change of weather, change of heart

If you happen to live in Arizona, Tucson particularly, you will note that we do not have all four seasons like other cities do, but rather, only two: summer and winter. It comes unexpectedly, around this time of month, prompting one to put away the thin cotton sheets, and pull out the goose down feather comforters. And though you never prepare for the swift change, it's something that's easy to adjust to. I wish the same could be said for friends.

It was Friday afternoon, and I was getting ready to go to the biggest concert in Arizona: Phooson. A combination of the cities Phoenix and Tucson, Phooson was an idea started by local morning show DJ's John Jay and Rich, that became a music palooza with Enrique Iglesias, Ne-Yo, Fabolous, Jonas Brothers, Paula Deanda and Kat Deluna and a whole bunch of other singers, including 2007 American Idol winner Jordan Sparks. I had planned to go with my friend Maria, but she unfortunately had to cancel, because she thought the concert was on Saturday and switched shifts with a co-worker who was of town. But lucky for me, I did have someone to go with.

Earlier that week, after I found out Maria wouldn’t be attending the concert, I called everyone in Blackberry phonebook, but no one was available. Partially, because it was last minute and partially because the concert was on a Friday afternoon. But then, as luck would have it, I found someone. I wont say their name, (which is a total first, I know) because they may or may not read this blog. My friend was ecstatic that I had tickets and agreed to come with me. They were actually in the middle of moving down from Phoenix, back to Tucson and since they were helping me out, I offered to help them move back in. They called me, but since I had my phone on vibrate, I didn’t realize it until 11:30 at night, when I very busy watching an old I Love Lucy rerun. I called them immediately as the end credits began to scroll over the iconic black and white heart, but this time, they didn’t answer. So, I went to sleep.

The next day, the day of the concert, I must've called my friend at least 10 times and text them, just as many times, all to no avail. They weren't answering, and as the minutes ticked closer and closer to the start of the concert, I was getting more and more nervous each time their voicemail came on. Two hours...One hour...Half an hour...fifteen minutes...five minutes...one minute...thirty seconds...fifteen seconds...one second...half a second...quarter of a second... Nothing. No call, no text, no nothing. I missed the concert. I should've just went, like my blog friend Carrisa suggested, but what fun is a concert if you have no one to share it with? On the other hand, what good is it sharing a concert with someone who doesn’t even consider your feelings and still hasnt called to this very day?

I think it's worse being stood up by a friend, rather than a blind date, because with a blind date, you’re stood up by someone who doesn’t even know you, rather than someone who does. Wait…I guess that’s a bad example, because being stood up by someone who doesn’t even give you a chance…yeah, never mind. The point is, being stood up is bad, and the thing that I don’t get is, why I was stood up? Am I a bad person?

Tuesday night, I went to the theatre with my boss Alice and her husband Azten and my friends Madelaine and Mick, and saw the most hysterical and absolutely entertaining Broadway show of my life: Avenue Q! Having grown up on an education taught by puppets and furry little monsters, the play totally spoke to me. As a kid, I always knew that the characters on Sesame Street had a hidden agenda, or a double life that PBS just never showed, and after seeing Avenue Q, I was so right on the money. It was absolutely one of the best shows, I have ever seen. And my friend Mick couldn’t agree more. In fact, he kept thanking me over and over again for inviting him to the show and cast party. What was a regular Broadway show night for me, was a party of the year for him. He couldn’t get over the fact that he was mingling with road tour actors and it actually made me feel good that somebody really appreciated me.

The same thing happened the following Sunday, when Alice and I attended a charity event. Every year, local Tucson business gather to design elaborate table settings (I have pictures, this time) that represent their company and allow fellow Tucsonites to get to know small businesses in their community, all to help children fight disease. Or plant trees. Or clean the seas. I don’t remember. But what I do remember is how thankful Alice and Azten were for my services. They couldn’t imagine pulling off the table setting without my help. They just kept thanking me and they even offered me one of their car’s because I had had car trouble earlier that morning. I mean, they were that thankful. Which I don’t understand…if there are some friends who value me very much, why are there some that don’t even value your feelings? And for that matter, why are they the ones you cant stop thinking about?

on the way down

I spoke too soon. I know I did. I should've known better. I should have finished watching the rest of that Will & Grace episode...

HEALTH
I wanted to have my annual family birthday dinner at the JW Marriot Terrace Restaurant but the hour long trip didn't even seem worth it, so I settled for The Claim Jumper. We were the first family there and the manager made a point to come and personally attend our table, making sure our meal was just perfect. After an appetizer of loaded potato skins, Southwest egg rolls and a couple of swapped stories the manager was so enticed with my family (I know...it still doesn't make sense to me!) that he told us to eat whatever we wanted, because our meal was on the house! You NEVER offer a Mexican anything free, because we will take advantage of that offer and include three truckloads of various family members. Poor manager...he never saw it coming. And neither did my clothes, because I totally gained back my 80s-theme weekend weight back. Ugh.

FAMILY
They all took the week off. I have not had a single moment to myself. Except at work, but that doesn't even count.

LOVE
Gwen is psycho. Like vindictive, spiteful psycho. My old co-worker Ashley came into my work the other day and like old friends, we caught up on old times. She recounted her adventures of traveling to South Africa to help feed the hungry and traveling to China to help tutor Chinese students. It was during a mid-travel tale that Gwen was on her way to the bank to make a deposit, when saw Ashley and I laughing at a picture of Ashley holding a baby panda.

GWEN: Hey David...what's up? Who's she?
ME: Uh...this is my friend. Ashley. Ashley, this is Gwen. She's the manager over at Mikes.

It was a stare down for the ages. Gwen did NOT like Ashley and I have no idea why. And to prove her jealousy was legit, Gwen started bringing her tumor-ed boyfriend, Adam, to work. At first, I thought it was just a one-time thing, but now that I've seen him FOUR times this week, including once in the lobby bathroom, I know he was not brought by mere coincidence. I needed more proof, before I could come to a definite conclusion, so I asked my friend Hadassah for the dirt on Gwen, since she used to work with her. I'm still waiting for that proof, but seriously...are girls really that spiteful?

FRIENDSHIPS
It seems as if though Phooson may be a no-go. The friend I was supposed to go with switched schedules with a fellow co-worker, thinking the concert was on Saturday, as opposed to tomorrow, which means, I am stuck with two tickets for an all-day music event and have absolutely no one to share it with! I'd take Gwen, but then she might bring Adam, leaving me as the desperate third wheel. I had told my friend more than several times of the date, so for them to just switch schedules, without even giving the concert a second thought, makes me wonder if it was a real accident or not.

WORK
The fax number I was given to send in my writer's contract is "temporarily not in service." So is my publisher's cell phone number. I've emailed him several times and he has not contacted me back. Neither has my friend, the sales director, Aleah. It's almost to the point that I am thinking this whole magazine thing is a hoax and I'm the butt of one seriously sick joke.

Why is it, when the most unbelievably good things happen to you, unbelievably bad things are right behind?

the five pillars

There’s an old episode of Will & Grace where Will and Grace are sitting on the couch, reading the newspaper and Will takes a test; The Five Pillars of Happiness. And, because it came with a free lotion sample, you know it's scientific. And since today’s my birthday, a birthday that for the first time in a very long time I am not afraid of turning older, I thought I’d take the test too.

HEALTH
There’s something about a time period where depleting the ozone layer with hairspray was a necessary fashion must and both Boy George and George Michael were straight that makes you want to party like it’s 1989. And that’s exactly what I did last weekend. It was my friend Rosie’s birthday party, which actually turned out to be a major bust since more than 95% of the party guests were manish lesbians. So I drank and drank and drank, until I lost all feeling in my hair. The next morning I lost about five pounds, just by laying by the toilet. I didn’t eat anything for the next two days and I can honestly say my pants feel looser. Check one for health!

FAMILY
My family is still very much odd. There’s no changing it, since it’s all genetics. But for the moment they’re OK. My mom made a new friend in a fellow psychotic Christian-fanatic who so happens to be an interior decorator and because their beliefs are outrageously similar, she’s redecorating our entire house for free. Not too bad I guess. My dad switched shifts with a soon-to-be dad and is now working nights at the Air National Guard and because my brothers are old enough to actually have jobs and contribute to society, I get a few nights free from all the channel switching and radio blasting. I know it doesn’t seem right that I’m happy I have free time from my family, but trust me…it’s a good thing.

LOVE
I’m not in love, right now, but I am kinda seeing someone. It’s a little iffy, though. There’s a new manager at Mike’s Coffee Shop and her name is Gwen. She’s cute, she’s funny and she makes me wanna feed her grapes and brush her hair (for the record, Gwen isn’t a monkey, although I do wish I could carry her all day). We’ve actually sorta gone out twice for drinks after work and each time it’s been really fun. There’s actually one little, teensy, weensy problem…she has a boyfriend. With a tumor. In his lungs. I know. But like they say…love makes you do crazy things.

FRIENDSHIPS
My friend life couldn’t be better. Even though we’re all busy with school and work and other aspects in our social lives, I think the fact that we all make time for each other says a lot. Before we used to make plans, days ahead. But now that were a little bit older and a little bit wiser, we've learned to make plans months in advance, because we know things can come up when you least expect it. I’ll be sure to include you in those events, too! One thing to look forward to? Phooson.

WORK
I officially got the magazine job! I signed the contract yesterday and am now officially a special features writer for 520Living! They’re gonna send me out to nightclubs and other hotspots in and around the 520 area and I’ll be writing all about it. To break it down, I’m gonna get paid to go out and have fun! On Tuesday, I met with the publisher and learned that his family owns their own publishing company, which is how he got into the magazine biz. They have lifestyle magazines in Los Angeles and San Bernadino, just to name a few. At twenty-two, I’m the youngest writer on staff and the only one without a history of prior experience. Unless you count my stint during high school when I was on the newspaper and yearbook staff. It’s a major step towards a career as a journalist and I couldn’t be more happier! After I left the meeting, I wanted to go out and do something. That’s when I came across this flyer that flew onto my leg:

Two roads lie ahead. One is straight and wide. The other winds it way through back roads. It's peak traffic time, though, on the big road. Success depends on you applying creative alternatives in achieving your goal. Discover a path. It's time to gaze far into the future to find meaning and inspiration, while paying less attention to the day-to-day issues that usually fill your thoughts.

How's that for a terrific birthday horoscope?

fired

Ugh. I just got fired from my job at Hallmark. Ok, let me explain.

My friend Rose was tired of me never making any time for her or her family, but with school and working full time at the flower shop, who had the time? So, she hooked me up with a seasonal part time evening job at Hallmark, which actually coincided with my plan to save up so I could visit Europe next summer. It was all going fine. Or at least, I thought it was. I was the first person in over seven years to correctly find all the cards in my training test and I sold six Precious Moments figurines to a customer on my first day. I thought I was doing pretty damn good.

But then on Sunday, my training manager called me to the back room and told me she had been observing me.

CORALEE: David…I’ve been watching you…and…I don’t think it’s going to work out between you and Hallmark.
ME: What do you mean?
CORALEE: You don’t seem that motivated. It’s like you don’t want to be here.
ME: Uh…no. I do want to be here. I like it here. It’s…
CORALEE: You’re heart doesn’t seem in it. You don’t approach the customers or talk to them…
ME: Are you kidding me? I’m always talking to customers. That’s how I sell them stuff.
CORALEE: You just don’t seem passionate about working here…
ME: Seriously? It’s selling cards. You really cant get too passionate about selling cards. I’m sorry I don’t have an orgasm every time I make a sale, but I think I do pretty good.
CORALEE: Mm-hmm. Well, it's not just me...Wendy the manager, has also observed you and she feels the same way. She says you have an attitude problem, something I really don’t agree with, but…
ME: But I’ve never worked with Wendy! How can she say that? I don’t have an attitude problem. I come in and do my work and I always make sure I have a smile on my face. I never complain that I always get stuck with the vacuum duties, I always offer to take out the trash…and I’m the best damn gift wrapper you have!
CORALEE: Well, there was that incident last week when a girl came in and asked us if she was interrupting you and I. She was David. I was in the middle of training you and you just completely ignore me to help her. That hurt.
ME: But she was a customer! I thought we were supposed to treat our customers as if they were guests in our home!
CORALEE: Yeah…I’m sorry David. We’ve just decided you and Hallmark are not going to work out. You’re a nice, sweet, young man and you’re a hard worker, but…I’m sorry.

And then she gave me a hug. A total Judas Iscariot hug. I knew my performance at Hallmark was impeccable, no matter what Coralee said. Maybe I was being let go because I was the only guy working there. I mean, it made sense. There were employees there who used their cell phones to text while out on the floor and some of them didn’t even know the location of certain cards, but yet I was the one being let go? I wanted to knock the Precious Moments out of Coralee and say, “How’s that for an attitude adjustment?” but I knew I had to show restraint. After all, I had shown restraint earlier last week.

There’s a networking business organization my boss Alice works with and when she found out they needed someone to write their monthly online newsletter, she recommended me. At first, I really liked doing it. I really liked attending the meetings and having total control of writing a newsletter. But then it got straining. And then it got draining. William, the founder of the networking business organization turned out to be a neurotic man who never slept and had a severe obsessive compulsive disorder. He would call at 11 or 12 at night, asking me to add an article in the newsletter or to ask me if I had noticed the changes he made. It got to the point where he would get upset with me if the newsletter wasn’t done within a week. I knew I had to quit. Our personalities just clashed and I just couldn’t put up with his neurosis any longer.

I was in the middle of writing my resignation letter ,with the help of Alice, when my phone rang. It was Aleah, a former sales director at a local radio station and a member of the networking business organization, who had called to tell me, my services were no longer needed for the online newsletter. William, told Aleah to tell me the networking business organization was “going in a different way.” They wanted an actual member to be in charge of the newsletter to “devote more time” to it. Ugh. “Devote more time,” my ass. I devoted plenty of time to it and I even put up with William’s insanity for five months! I couldn’t believe I was fired, before I could quit. So unfair.

But as luck would have it, there was a silver lining on a window that was just opening up. Aleah had recently left her position at the radio to work for 520 Living, a new lifestyle magazine that was launching early next year and she asked me if I would be interested in writing reviews for the magazine about all the trendy hotspots around town! I would be getting paid to have fun! I, of course, had to submit a sample review of the last nightclub I attended, but as of this morning...I have the job!

And as Coralee waved goodbye to me, I knew there was a silver lining somewhere in all of this. I just wish I knew where.

send in the killer clowns

The average college student will attend roughly fifteen hundred parties over the course of their college career. I’ve attended about half. All parties are generally the same, and usually what separates the “good parties” from the “bad parties” is how drunk you are. You’ll notice the best parties will not be the ones you arrive at in the beginning of the night, but rather the ones you stumble into at the end. Each party usually consists of one mix iPod shuffle, blasting the hottest hip-hop and R&B music, one keg of beer, one table of hard alcohol and chasers and one roomful of guys and girls you’ll recognize from class, drinking as much as their little red Solo Cups can hold.

Now, you may get the idea to hold a party at your place, which in itself is a very foolish and stupid idea. Unless you have the crazy notion to run around worrying that nobody spills anything, breaks anything, tears anything, or steals anything and then trying to convince the cops that everyone is actually watching a movie and eating pizza. Yeah. It’s much better to keep the party-throwing to losers who enjoy sacrificing everything they hold so dear to their hearts, and keep the party going, spilling, breaking, tearing, and stealing to yourself. So, when my friend Maria’s new boyfriend Manny invited me to a party he was throwing for Maria’s 21st birthday, earlier this week, I wondered just what kind of guy he was.

Maria had met Manny at the drugstore where she worked. They instantly clicked together when their training manager tried to describe the “Ethnic aisle” to them without sounding racist. As fate would have it, Maria and Manny had a lot of things in common, especially in acquaintances, because a lot of Manny‘s friends were in the same engineering club that Maria‘s ex-boyfriend used to attend. Maria couldn’t stop talking about Manny and I couldn’t wait to see the guy who had made my friend so happy. But now…after meeting him? I’m not so sure I ever wanna see Manny ever again.

It was a Monday night, which struck me as odd to hold a 21 year old party, but it so happens, that’s the day Maria’s birthday fell under this year. Manny lived in a neighborhood where the streets were named after people, places, and things associated with King Arthur, so at first glance, I thought surely the people who lived on magical streets would be magical themselves. But Manny was anything but magical. He was creepy.

Walking into the house, everywhere you looked, there were clowns! On the shelves, the walls, everywhere! It made me wonder who their decorator was? The Barnum & Bailey Brothers? I wasn’t really freaked, since clowns have never really bothered me, but just the fact that they were a factor in the decorating design was a little odd. I tried to look beyond the clowns and tried to feign interest in a framed print. Guess I wouldn’t be stealing anything. According to Manny, the picture was done by John Wayne. Who knew that the infamous cowboy actor painted too? But I think the bigger question is…why?

I went to the kitchen to get a drink and was greeted with even more horrifying decor. There were magnetic strips all along the three walls in the kitchen and hanging from the magnetic strips were knives - carving, pairing, filets, and cleavers, hanging like little, tiny swords ready to be used by little, tiny pirates. Well, actually, they were used to cut the red velvet birthday cake, Manny made for Maria. Yes…red velvet cake. Who makes red velvet for a birthday? Confetti, I understand, but red velvet? The party got even weirder when one of Manny’s friends asked him where is folks were and all Manny said was, “They’re not here.” I thought that meant they had moved on, you know, to the other side, but when his friend pushed for further details and Manny said, “They’re gone somewhere,” I wondered if his parents were maybe, forced to the other side.

Something was up and so I called one of the best investigators I knew. My friend Madelaine. Madelaine had a reputation for being able to locate anyone in the greater Tucson area and find out at least three secrets from their past. I knew she was a force to be reckoned with, which is why I asked her to research Manny. She, of course, thought I was blowing the weird mannerisms of Manny’s way overboard. So I had to do my own research. Google.com helped me learn that John Wayne never painted sad clowns. But John Wayne Gacy, AKA The Killer Clown did. Yeah. How convenient of Manny to leave off the name “Gacy,” when talking about the art in his home. That, plus the collection of kitchen knives and red velvet cake, which was probably made by human blood. And that weird thing he said about his parents about being “gone”? Who says things like that?!

I didn’t know what to do. I mean, really, how do you tell someone that their fellow co-worker, classmate and lover, loves a psycho killer clown? I’ve seen enough horror movies to know that it’s the friend who finds out who the real killer is that gets killed off first. And speaking of horror movies, I just got a text from Maria who just now asked me if I wanted to go to the movies with her and Manny. He wants to see Halloween…for the fifth time! I’ve already seen it, so I know it’s an OK-movie, but five times?! Come on! Am I the only one who sees the signs?!

it's a mad, mad, mad, mad friendship

Ok, so maybe it wasn’t exactly the end of an era, because the other week, I saw Colette. I know. I guess living an entire city away, just isn’t far enough for us to actually say goodbye. I’m still not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but it is what it is. And it’s not like it’s my fault that I saw her again. I was invited. Colette’s mom called me up, one fine morning, and asked if I wanted to drive up with her and Monette, Colette’s younger sister, to see Colette. I didn’t wanna say, “No,” because I thought that would be considered rude, so I went along for the ride. Along with about half of Tucson. Who knew Colette was missed by so many?

After we got to Phoenix and caught up with each other, we found ourselves just sitting around, in Colette’s new apartment, wondering what to do next. It was weird. I mean, I know the point of the visit was to visit with Colette, but how much could a person miss another person after only being away for a week? That’s when I suggested we go to a party. After all, it was the weekend before school, so surely there were a few kegs floating around the city, just waiting to be pumped. An hour later, we were at the party of Colette’s fellow classmates. That’s when we met Jason.

Jason was from our side of the tracks, meaning he came up from Tucson too. He had just moved to Tucson at the beginning of the summer and was still learning his way around Arizona. He wasn’t really all that interesting, I’ll admit, but I think he was just nervous being in another new city and not really knowing anyone. I was just about to leave to get my second cup of Jungle Juice when Jason said something that made my ears perked.

Every year, towards the end of the summer, 93.7 KRQ, a local radio station in town, holds a contest where the winner wins a $10,000 shopping spree at the mall. Jason was that winner. He bought an iPhone, DVD’s, designer sunglasses, a whole ton of stuff. He even got $2,000 more in gift cards to be spent at random apparel shops! Ugh…$12,000 given to someone who wasn’t even born and raised here! And the worst part of it all? Jason cant shop at the mall because none of the clothes fit him. More proof that God does have a cruel sense of humor.

So here was a guy with an extra $2000 and he couldn’t spend it. I swear, at that moment in time, I had dollar signs flashing in my eyes, like the screen of a coin slot machine in Las Vegas. I wanted that $2000 shopping spree. After all, if Jason couldn’t spend the money, then why couldn’t I? I mean, wasn’t I the one who wanted to go out to a party? Wasn’t I the one who had initiated conversation with Justin?

I made sure to get Jason’s phone number before I left the party and Phoenix. I knew I had to take advantage of the fact that I had a home advantage above all those Phoenixians at the party who may have overheard Jason tell me that he had $2000 laying around in gift cards. For the next week and a half, I had a new friend. I invited Jason to the movies, to a party, to everywhere. Some of my friends, the ones who weren’t at the party, couldn’t understand why I was “courting him”, but they didn’t understand that there was $2,000 here at stake. And I was gonna try and do whatever it took to get my hands on those gift cards. Apparently, everyone that went to the party had the same goal in mind.

It seemed I wasn’t the only one who heard Jason’s story that night. I found out Colette was just as textually active as I was. She even sent Jason a “Welcome to Arizona” gift basket. It was sneaky and vindictive and the worst part of it all? Jason actually liked it! I’m in competition with an entire group of people who are supposed to be my friends. Why cant they just let me enjoy $2,000 in peace? Which is where you guys, my fellow blogosphere friends, come in hand. I need some ideas on how to outwit and outplay my friends/competition. And don’t worry…I’ll cut you in for a little somethin’-somethin’.

grease is the word

Every few years or so, a movie comes out and 20 - 30 minutes, you realize you are watching an instant classic. Like Grease, for example. It’s got everything you could ask for …underage drinking, teen pregnancy scare, singers who can't act, actors who can't sing, and a plot so corny it should have its own husk. Which is why when I heard that there would be a sing-a-long playing at The Loft, I knew I had to go!

Sadly though, no one wanted to go with me. It’s almost as if they were embarrassed to be seen among fans dressed up like the characters, singing all the songs and dancing the hand jive in the aisles. But lucky for me, there was one friend, whose life motto was, “I may not be able to sing, but I sure can do one helluva ‘Hopelessly Devoted to You!”

Friday night, Hadassah and I made our way to The Loft, with little bottles of alcohol and wine stuffed in our pockets. We weren’t dressed as the characters, since we figured it would be more fun to watch gay men dress up as tough guys in leather jackets and perform synchronized dance moves in the aisles while singing their hearts out to Olivia Newton John's ballad. Instead, it was the lesbians who dressed up, which really wasn’t as fun, since none of them could sing or dance. But it was still fun just seeing the whole overgrown gang on the big screen with little yellow words all along the bottom.

After the movie there was a Q & A with three of the characters from the movie; Edd Byrnes (Vince Fontaine), Annette Charles (Cha-Cha DiGregorio) and Eddie Deezen (Eugene Felnic), which couldn’t have been more awesome. What wasn’t awesome was the fact that time has been totally cruel to Edd Byrnes. And judging by the fact that he was charging $25 for his 1996 biography, which sells on eBay for about $2.99, time obviously hasn’t been kind to his mentality. Time was, however, kind to Eddie, who I swear looks exactly the same and to his costar, Annette. Oh, Annette…

She was actually one of main reasons for going there. Ever since I can remember, I always liked Cha Cha, which isn’t really all that shocking since I’ve always adored troubled characters at a very young age. Like Ernie, Miss Piggy, Cruella De Vil. I mean, who didn’t wonder what a coat made out of puppies would feel like? And who doesn’t love the character of Cha Cha, the best dancer at St. Bernadette’s with the worst reputation and her hot tranny looks?

It was such a surreal moment walking up to that stage and that cheap card table and know that I was standing in the presence of cult cinema royalty. And it was even more cooler to know that Cha Cha was now a professor at some college in L.A. teaching communications, which is totally my field of expertise…or at least will be once I finish school. By the end of the night, I got the scarf Cha Cha threw out into the crowd, an autograph, and I got to do the cha cha with Cha Cha. I’d show pictures, but my “Hopelessly Devoted” friend was hopelessly passed out on one of the theater’s red velvet seats. And even though I didn’t get to ride that infamous Grease Lightening into that malt shop in the sky, it was still one heck of a womp bop a looma, a womp bam boom night.

the end of an era

My friend Hadassah had just come back from Europe. She now considered herself a world-class traveler, but considering she spent a week in Amsterdam, world-class pothead, probably wasn’t too far behind. She had experienced new things, saw new places, met new people. But inside, she was the same girl. The same girl, who had left to Europe to decide who her heart belonged to: Guy or Bry. It would’ve been easier if she met someone in Europe and started fresh, but things are never that simple. After all, this is real life. And like real life, Hadassah couldn’t put off her decision any longer. So, she chose Guy, after realizing he was the one she thought about the most and the one she wanted to come home to.

Hadassah had arranged to let Bry down easy in a public place, that way there’d be less of a scene and no chance of one last seduction. It happened at a sushi restaurant. Everything was going according to plan. The cucumber salads were fresh, the wine was impeccable, and Bry was just as perfect. But as the dinner progressed, so did Hadassah’s feelings. It didn’t make any sense. She was over Bry. At least that’s what she thought. But seeing him there, in his crisp white shirt and the light blue tie she had gotten him for Christmas, caused Hadassah’s heart to flutter and her speech to stutter. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bring herself to break this innocent man’s heart. So, she excuse herself to the bathroom, pulled out her BlackBerry and called me asking me for help on how to say goodbye.

HADASSAH: David! I cant do it! I cant! I didn’t think it would be so hard!
ME: Just do it. It’s not that hard to say "good" and "bye".
HADASSAH: I know, but it’s like…the end of an era!

Hadassah was right. It was the end of an era. All those times when we all went out for happy hour after work and all those times Bry and Hadassah shared a look in the lobby of the Frontier building when they thought nobody else was looking...it was all over. I guess I could kinda see why it would be hard for Hadassah to say "goodbye" to those memories, but I really didn’t know what to say. I mean, I’ve never really had to tell anyone goodbye before. The people who mean the world to me have never left me and the ones who don’t, well, let’s just say, saying goodbye was never so easy. It wasn’t until Colette, that girl we all know and love, asked me to help her move.

Colette had been accepted to asthetic’s college and needed help moving into a new apartment, once city, two hours and a hundred and twenty miles away. My blog friend Nikki suggested I go and help, because if anything, it would bring closure to one, very weird, unexplainable thing we had between us. And if I didn’t get closure, Nikki assured me that she would come over and slap one of us upside the head, hoping that some common sense would fall right in. Who knew violence could be used as a great motivator?

The following morning, I headed over to Colette’s house. She told me more than half her stuff was packed, which I took to meant that it had already been placed in the U-Haul and I would just be going along for the ride to help unpack later on. No. I was there to help put the stuff into the U-Haul, including one very large wooden dresser, that I swear, must have been built inside the room, because it was so huge and the drawers didn’t pull all the way out. Did this girl not know the advantages of shopping at Ikea? It was extremely heavy and if it hadn’t been for Joey, I don’t think I would have been able to do it.

Joey was a guy just like me. A guy infatuated with Colette, yet could never really understand her. It was a modern day love triangle. It was almost like that movie, There’s Something About Mary, with Colette being Mary, Me being Ted and Joey being Tucker. Pat Healy and Woogie were somewhere and it was a shame they never showed, because it would have made for one interesting afternoon. Not that me and Joey didn’t have our own fascinating thing going on. There we were, two guys trying to outdo each other by lifting and carrying furniture down a flight of stairs and into a moving van, each one trying to outdo the other. What is it about girls that brings out the Neanderthal in guys? Thinking back on it, it was so not worth the sore forearms and the strained back. Especially since it was about a hundred and four degrees out that day. But at least I know now I’m not made for manual labor. It’s better to know now at an early age, that I will need to hire help. That way I can start saving up! Smart.

My arms were stiff. I couldn’t move. I wanted to cry and have someone rub Icy Hot all over my body. But I couldn’t because I was driving up to Phoenix with Colette. Joey was driving the U-Haul, and from the few glances I made through the rearview mirror, I could tell he was in no worse shape than I was. But at least he got to be by himself and could cry without anyone hearing him. After we got to Phoenix we performed our masochist act all over again, this time, carrying the furniture up a flight of stairs. Never again will I ever help a person move. I am willing to pay for movers because the way I see it, it’s a whole lot less than the Swedish masuse I will need to employ very soon.

After one last dinner and one last conversation, it was time to say goodbye. First, Colette said goodbye to her mom and sister. Then, she moved to Joey. Then me. It was like that last scene in The Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy hugs all her friends goodbye, but saves her final goodbye for the Scarecrow, telling him, “I think I’ll miss you most of all.” I didn’t think I would miss Colette this much, given our history and the fact we were only a city away, but seeing her drive away and start her new life in a new city was really bittersweet. Then someone, somewhere had turned the radio on in their car and Paula Deanda came on.

I cant explain this feeling
I think about it everyday
and even though we've moved on
it gets so hard to walk away...

That was weird. But not as weird as the next song…4 in the Morning. Just hearing Gwen Stefani sing made me remember the concert Colette and I went to and all those memories we shared together since that first day in middle school, when we sat across from each other in the cafeteria. It’s almost like it was yesterday that I fell for the girl with butterfly barrettes in her hair and silver braces on her teeth. And even though they say that all things must come to an end, I really don’t know if this is the end for us. Only time can tell. But what I do know? It’s the end of an era.

dog show down

Some people are born to be dog lovers. Some are born to be dog haters. It’s just a rule of life. But it’s funny how the ones that are dog haters think they are capable of escaping a dog's sneaky charm. Their sneaky, vindictive, manipulating charm.

Take my mom for example. She’s a born dog hater. Everything about a dog, from the way they sniff your toes to the way they jump on you, annoys her. It was actually an honest-to-God miracle that she let Lucy, the little Pomeranian Chihuahua puppy I found at work, stay in our home. The first few weeks, I think, were a grace period, since Lucy was still weak from her hospital visit. After the third week, I heard her telling neighborhood walkers and family members alike that she was just putting the word out, that she was looking for a nice family who could care for a little puppy. I was appalled! Here I was, trying to nurse my puppy back to health and my mother was scheming behind my back to give her away! She claimed she had too much heart to just throw the defenseless creature out into the street, which is why she was trying to find a nice decent home for it, but as far as I was concerned, the matter was settled. No one was separating me and Lucy.

Lucy and I went everywhere. In fact, she was starting to become my favorite shopping partner. Dog lovers would stop us to pet and admire Lucy, while dog haters would just stop us and tell us we weren’t allowed inside their store. It didn’t take much to change their mind. Just a simple head tilt and a hind leg jump from Lucy was all it took to let us through with a warning that this was a “special once-in-a-lifetime chance”. Yeah. Sure. Whatever. But it made me realize, if Lucy was capable of changing the minds of these so-called dog hater’s, maybe she could do the same for my mom.

She started off by refusing to eat her dog kibble. Just like that. We tried three different brands including a doctor prescribed one, but she walked away from each one. It worried me, since the reason she had gone into the hospital the first time was due to malnourishment and low blood sugar. So, I called the doctor who suggested table scraps. Of course, coming from a Mexican family, we barely know the word “leftovers,” so we just had to add an extra helping when it came to feeding time. Eggs and oatmeal for breakfast, sliced ham and cheese for lunch, non-fat yogurt and rice pudding for a snack, and roast chicken or beef tenderloins for dinner (of course, the menu changed daily, as everyone knows you cant eat the same thing twice without getting tired of it, but for the most part, that’s Lucy’s diet).

Then Lucy started “telling” us her favorite TV shows. She loves old reruns of The Nanny and Sabrina the Teenage Witch (I think it has something to do with the talking cat and those special guest appearences by Chester the pomeranian), and will sit on the couch, not moving at all, until commercial time. Usually, she’ll watch whatever I watch, but the moment Yes, Dear or 7th Heaven comes on, she’ll start barking at the television as any self-respecting human and animal would do. She had a preference for goose feather pillows than the fiber ones. She preferred going to the bathroom in the backyard, rather than the front, since it was more discreet. She is a lady afterall. I’ve even caught her stopping in front of the mirror once in a while, just to look at herself from all angles, to make sure she looked good. Only five months and so brilliant! In fact, it was because of her lady-like personality that my mom realized, this dog wasn’t just any old dog. She was special. Which, I know, all people say about their dogs, but I think that’s only because they’re embarrassed that their dog doesn’t realize their tail is part of their body.

And being that Lucy was special, I couldn’t understand why her being of mixed breed mattered. After all, in this day in age, aren’t mixed people to the human race what Dolce & Gabbana is to fashion? So why aren’t dogs? It happened one day at the local PetSmart where a girl and her poodle met a boy and his mutt.

AMY: Hi, my name is Amy. Cute dog! What is it?
ME: She’s a Pomeranian with a little Chihuahua.
AMY: Oh. She’s mixed? Like a mutt?

There was something about the way she said, “mixed” and “mutt” that unnerved me. She didn’t say it in a mean way, but the way her left eyebrow lifted slightly when she said it, made me put up my guard.

ME: No. She’s not a mutt. She just wanted a little bit of both in her DNA.
AMY: Oh. Well, she‘s still kinda cute.

Kinda cute? I didn’t understand what the deal was with Amy or why she kept making such cruel comments. In my head, I came up with about five comebacks that would’ve totally put her in her place, but instead, I just smiled as she introduced Lucy and me to "Darlene, a full-bred, miniature poodle." Darlene just sat there, her head cocked to the side, gazing into the distance. In truth, she looked like maybe had been dropped several times over and over again. And then again, just for fun. And then once more. If it weren’t for the tongue hanging out of her mouth and the string of drool in the corner, I would’ve thought she was a statue. Full-bred? More like half-dead.

The icing on the cake came when Amy asked why Lucy didn’t have a collar. According to Amy, a dog’s collar spoke volumes about their personality, since it was the only accessory they could wear 24/7. Darlene was wearing a light pink synthetic woven cotton/nylon collar with sparkling rhinestones which made me wonder what level her volume stood at. What Amy didn’t know was that I had taken Lucy’s collar off before walking into the store, on account that I promised she wouldn’t have to wear it inside if she promised not to chase after big dogs during our walk. So you could imagine my delight when I pulled out of my pocket, a Coach Signature jacquard fabric collar with gold leather trim. It was a gift from one of Lucy's many admirers and I knew as I walked away from Amy it was the ultimate final and silent word.

Two days later, I went back to PetSmart to return the toy I had bought for Lucy. It was bigger than I thought it was, so I figured a smaller one would do better. That’s when I saw Amy and Darlene. Did this woman, seriously, have no other place to go? Did she plan her days around taking her dumb dog to pet stores, dogging dogs? Ugh. At least my collar stunt prompted Amy to buy Darlene a new collar, a rhinestone choker that could have easily doubled as one of those bracelets most commonly found at Icing’s or Claire’s. It was actually a pretty good idea, and if Amy wasn’t such a hater, I would’ve given her the proper snaps she deserved for being so creative. But instead, I made sure the little brown C’s on Lucy’s collar were visible through her golden fur.

There we were, standing in the presence of each other, each one waiting for the other person to make the first move. It was like one of those old black and white western movies where the sheriff and a runabout renegade with the words, “the kid” placed after their name, stand in the middle of a dusty town at high noon. But instead of a tumbleweed rolling between us, a black male lab walked on by, sniffing Lucy out, swooning over the adorable little lady. She wasn’t interested so she just yawned and looked away. At that moment, another dog walked by. It was a border collie who was also interested in Lucy, but like before, Lucy wasn’t interested, so she turned away and looked longingly down the aisle at the toys and treats. The first dog, the black lab, took notice of the border collie and growled at it, before lunging at it’s throat! Two grown dogs, shrieking and snarling at each other, over little ol’ Lucy! As their owners struggled to pull back on their leashes with such force, I couldn’t help but look over at Lucy who was now sitting on the floor watching everything play out as if she knew the attention was all for her.

AMY: Can't believe all that fuss over a dog who isn’t even that skinny.
ME: Can't believe you’re trying to outdo Coach with cheap jewelry.

Ok, I didn’t say that, but I was thinking it, which is just the same thing, except it’s in a more refined and dignified manner. But it made me realize, it doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor, full-bred or mixed. All that really matters in life is that you own some designer goods. No, I’m totally kidding! But it sure comes handy when you meet narrow-minded people and their full-bred, half-dead dogs!

the good, the bad, and the straightenin' out to do

There comes a point in time, when you start to wonder about the good things and the bad things in your life. But mostly, it’s the bad things that get the most attention. And you wonder, if it’s a bad thing and you know it‘s a bad thing, then why is it a part of your life? It’s like frozen cookie dough. You plan on using it to make dozens of cookies to be shared with friends and loved ones, but instead, you end up eating it in large chunks, knowing in the back of your mind that it’s probably not a good idea to be eating raw dough with all those cases of samonella being reported, but you do it anyways because it’s oh-so good. And then you discover, by the end of the night, you only have enough dough to make two decent-sized cookies. It makes you a little sad, but you just shrug your shoulders and put the rest of the chocolate-y goodness in your mouth, thinking in the back of your mind, to hell with it. It’s exactly what I was thinking when I thought of my is she-isn’t she friend, Collete.

Ok so maybe things with Colette weren’t as resolved as I thought they were. Maybe I just didn’t get it, like I thought I did. But it’s hard when you’re a guy. Girl’s just have this weird power/control over guys. Just look at Samson and Delilah. Edmond Dantes and Mercedès. Paul McCartney and Heather Mills. Poor guys. Never saw it coming. But I was smarter than that. I knew better. And that’s when Colette called me.

Apparently, when we were in Phoenix the previous week, she had entered a contest at the mall to go see pop singer Fergie and won two tickets. And who did she invite? Yeah. Me. Colette told me that as soon as she found out she won, she could think of no other person to invite but me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t honored, but I didn’t know if...oh to hell with it, it was Fergie! And anyone who can piss their pants in public and still hold their head up high is A-OK in my book. I mean, we’ve all been there after a couple of drinks and dancing in a party bus with a stripper pole, right? And besides, this was just a friend only outing…as Colette pointed out many times. God. You take somebody to a Gwen Stefani concert and your pegged as “Concert Buddy” for life. Ugh.

Two days and a two hour car ride later, we were at the Dodge theater rockin’ and a-rollin’ to a really awesome performance. I was wearing my Ed Hardy jeans, the ones with the skull bone and heart patch in the back pockets, which I had been saving for a rainy day, but since it never came, I figured now was as good a time as any. Fergie was awesome. Who knew that a thirty-something could still do cartwheels? Sure, her back would probably be killing her the following morning, but hey, it wasn’t my back, so…rock on! And it was during this rockin’ performance that Fergie sang a song that really spoke to me. Even though it was entitled, "Big Girls Don’t Cry", I felt the lyrics could go either way. Minus, of course, the exception of the word, “girl.”

Fairytales don't always have a happy ending, do they?
And I foresee the dark ahead if I stay.
I hope you know, I hope you know
That this has nothing to do with you
It's personal, myself and I
We've got some straightenin' out to do
And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
But I've got to get a move on with my life…

Amen sister. Story of my life. But little did I know that while I thought I was dealing with a major problem, somebody else was dealing with an even bigger problems.

After the concert, we headed to a local gas station to stock up on energy drinks and peach candy rings, since spending the night at a hotel was out of the question. I wanna say that it’s because temptation was just not a road I wanted to travel on, but the truth is, I forgot my credit card and Colette was overdrawn on her debit account. Ironically, the road we were traveling on ended up being closed due to forceful winds and a monsoon-like rainfall. Guess it was a perfect time to be wearing those Ed Hardy's, after all. We had no option but to turn back. We ended up at a Denny’s, where we ordered banana fosters, chocolate chip pancakes and a side order of chicken strips and french fries. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best idea to eat such a random mix of food so late at night/early in the morning, but when you’re killing time and trying to stay awake at a 24-hour diner, you do what you gotta do.

We left the restaurant at the crack of dawn, and after being in town for not more than one hour, I got that fateful call. It was from my boss Alice, giving me a rundown of the tasks that had to be performed and completed that day. After assuring and reassuring Alice that everything was under control, she told me that Freddie, her brother-in-law was like Nicky. Nicky was a close, personal friend of Alice and her husband Azten, until he was shot and killed in an alley this past March. To this day, no one really knows what happened, but it’s assumed that Nicky got caught up in a drug deal gone bad.

ALICE: David…Freddie is like Nicky. I don’t know what to do.
ME: You mean he’s weird? Yeah, I could’ve told you that Alice. Why? What he do?
ALICE: No, I mean, Freddie is like Nicky.
ME: Cuz he sells drugs? Well, there’s nothing you can really do…
ALICE: No. David. Listen. Freddie. Is like. Nicky.
ME: Alice. I get it. He’s weird. But why?
ALICE: David. Freddie is where Nicky is.
ME: Well where is Nicky?
ALICE: David, I have my daughters in the car. So please understand when I tell you that Freddie is exactly like Nicky.

It was then that I finally got it. I later learned that Freddie was shot and killed in an apartment complex over a pair of designer jeans. I know! I mean, that could've been me! I could've been THE guy shot in Phoenix over the pair of jeans I was wearing! It was so surreal. After all, I had just seen Freddie the week before when he came in to see Alice. He was his usual self, wearing a button down shirt that was fully open, exposing his chest tattoo of an Aztec god holding a half naked Aztec woman with enormous breasts and telling me of his weekend and how some girl at some party just couldn’t get enough of him. Which is weird, because every girl I know that has met him have told me specifically that they would never, in a million years, go out with him.

Still it was sad. I mean, here was a guy, who was my age, wore designer jeans…was unlucky in love…and the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if maybe I had the same fate in store for me. Ok, I’ll admit it’s selfish of me to even think of my own well-being during a time when someone had just passed away, and I may as well have booked my ticket for that hand basket people are always talking about, but the similarities was just way too much to not be considered a coincidence. I mean, I don’t think I’ll be killed in a tragic shooting, but who’s to say I wont? I always felt that the way I would go would be falling to my death, that way I could get that flying thing out of the way before I go. The point is, you just never know when your time is up. That’s why everyone’s always saying to make each and every moment count. So is it bad that my each and every moments are still associating with Colette?

got it? get it? good?

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. And you know what? It’s true. I’ve really missed my blog! Not that I took a break or anything, but when your busying living life in the moment, some things will lose their significance. I’ve really missed turning on my laptop and just writing away like a famous Southern author. Of course, I cant think of any right now at the moment, but you know what I mean. There’s nothing like the warmth of your computer on your legs, with the scent of cinnamon hot chocolate lingering in the air and an empty webpage, waiting to be filled with all kinds of thoughts and ideas that you cant keep caged any longer.

And speaking of cages, my friend Hadassah was in the middle of trying to escape from one. Not a physical one, but an emotional one. She was still trying to decide between the two guys she was seeing and it was even more difficult, when they both told her they loved her and wanted to be exclusive. Two guys after her heart? Some could (some even did!) wish she would just drop dead. But since I didn’t want a dead friend, I suggested she make a pros and cons list. Which really wasn’t helpful, since both lists seemed to balance out about the same. So she did what any twenty-something, who’s dealing with matters of the heart- she flew away to Europe, promising she would return with a final answer.

I personally, thought it was a little crazy, but like they say, to each his own. If I was a betting man, and there was a line on this in Vegas, I'd lay down ten-to-one that it all comes down to the fact that Hadassah would come back, no closer to a decision then when she left. Hadassah was a wild spirit, one that couldn’t be tamed or controlled. She needed to be free like the wind. Or like one of those majestic deer’s you see in the woods, before it’s shot down.

Truth be told, my friend Hadassah reminded me a lot like one of the most famous girls to ever come out of literature. Holly Golightly. She was naïve, totally eccentric, but all in all, she was a girl you rooted for, hoping that in the end, everything would work out for her. I saw the similarities one Saturday night, when my very good friend Madelaine and I went to the historic Fox Theatre in downtown Tucson to watch on the big screen, Breakfast at Tiffany’s. It was a sim-u-date, which is kinda like a real date, except, like a Sims game, you have more control over everything and don’t have to worry about whether or not the date will end with a kiss or a figuratively castration. That’s the thing about having great friends. They’re always there for you when you wanna go out for a dinner and a movie, but not by yourself.

After all, the person who I most wanted to go on a date with was never available. For the past couple of weeks, Colette was MIA After telling me that she removed articles of clothing for strange people, she wouldn’t return any of my calls or any of my texts. I began to wonder if I had judged her too harshly. Maybe if I had been less shocked when she decided to share the information…or if I had been more accepting of her new job, we would still be on speaking terms. In any event, during that period of one-sided silence, I came to terms with the fact that Colette and I just were never meant to be. We just weren't meant to be. Our's was a love that was to never be, like Orpheus and Eurydice, Romeo and Juliet, Justin and Britney. And I accepted that. It took about eight or nine years, but I finally got it, you know? I just...got it.

And it was just after I got it, that Collette called me. She claimed she had been busy with work and trying to get into an aesthetics school in Phoenix, which I took with the verbal grain of salt. After all, I was the one that had gotten it, whatever "it" was. I was the one who knew that we would never be. The entire time we talked, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for poor Colette. There she was. Talking on the phone with out any clue or the slightest idea, about having “it.”

A week later, Colette called me up again, asking if I wanted to travel with her to Phoenix to help her apply to the International Academy of Beauty. I figured it be a fun trip as well as a much needed excuse to get out of town. And it was. The director of the college was fantastic and for a brief mortal minute, I even considered going to the school. But alas, I don’t believe the study of skin is my forte. I can barely pop my own zits without getting grossed out, so working on other people‘s skin? Yeah, right.

After being admitted to the college, Colette and I did some sole searching at the Chandler Fashion Square and left with some really awesome clothes including a major Gino Green Global jacket. I also left with a startling discovery. As we were leaving the mall, Colette got a phone call and though they say it’s impolite to eavesdrop on a conversation, I’m really glad I did on this one. Apparently, one of Colette’s friends wanted some advice on dating and this is what she said:

“Dude, it sounds to me like you’re not ready to be in a relationship. You sound like my friend David. Yeah. He told me it’s cuz he’s too selfish. Being with someone means you cant be thinking of yourself all the time. You have to devote some of your time to the other person and sometimes that means having to put their feelings before your own. David’s not ready for that. Hell, he’s even told me that he’s even skipped dinners with friends to go shopping for new clothes...”

Ok, I don’t remember saying any of that. And if I did, it was absolutely a long, long, very long time ago. And that’s a big IF. But if I did say that, could that be THE reason why this has been an overprocessed, overdrawn out thing? Ugh...maybe I really didnt get it, like I thought I did...

a bummer from a strummer

The John Mayer concert was beyond amazing. His music is just so inspiring and the way he plays that guitar, well…let’s just say that Jessica must be pretty happy in bed. And speaking of happy things, Hadassah and I were pretty happy to discover that margarita’s were only three dollars! Oh, it was the best of times! And even though I was buzzing more than a bee, it was right then and there that I decided to do something creative and artistic and share that creative and artistic thing with the world.

That’s when I remembered the Art Fair mural project. A couple months back, a local downtown art program asked me if I would be willing to paint a giant three-story high mural in their stairwell. They liked the little doodles I drew on the chalkboard at my work and figured it was just the thing they needed. I had put off the project for a while, since I wasn’t sure what I wanted to paint. I mean, three stories worth of art? It had to be something that would inspire anyone who walked in the building and it had to have meaning that would last longer than a minute. And it was all thanks to John Mayer.

The day after the concert I stopped at an art supply store and picked up a blank drawing pad and a box of colored pencils. When I got home, I put the pencil to the pad, and the ideas just flowed out of me. Bright, colorful things just started to appear and before I knew it, I had several pages filled with stuff. I couldn’t wait to show my ideas to the director. Unfortunately, I never got the chance.

When I went to Art Fair to talk with the director, Ann, I ran into Greg, the guy who “discovered” me. Turns out he had just been fired. Apparently, Greg, who had been a volunteer had decided to ask that he paid for his services during the summer. Just a little gratuity. After all, summer months meant longer hours, which meant more opportunities for some extra cash. So it only made sense that he ask. Who knew the answer would lead to a harsh firing? Did those selfish Art Fair people not know how to recognize a good thing when they had it? I mean, if it weren’t for Greg, I wouldn’t be there painting the mural and neither would half the teachers that were volunteering their time to help teach classes. I felt bad for the guy, but I didn’t want all my ideas to go to waste. So I stuck with my meeting, but throughout it I had this really wretched feeling in my stomach. Damn conscience.

After the meeting, Ann invited me to an all-expense paid dinner later that night. It would be a chance for everyone at Art Fair to get to know each other and to have an opportunity to give recognition to those who deserved it. It was a super nice gesture, and for a mere mortal minute, I thought that maybe the people at Art Fair weren’t all that bad.

That night, I went I went to the all-expense paid dinner. At Taco Bell. I know. But it was all they could afford, and so I just stuck with a Chalupa. After everyone was seated in the plastic cream-colored booths, I couldn’t help but think of Greg and the recognition he deserved. Sure, he didn’t create Art Fair, but he made it what it was. It just wasn’t right to be there at the all-expense paid dinner without him there. So I resigned. I went right up to Ann and told her I was leaving and I wasn’t coming back. I was so nervous the entire time, because I knew my resignation would let down a lot of people, especially those unimaginative, non-creative people who were waiting to be inspired. But it had to be done.

A girl who was sitting two turquoise, spinning chairs over, overheard me resign and stood up to announce her resignation. Apparently, volunteering at Art Fair didn’t count as an after-school club, which meant she couldn’t put it on her college application. So she left. And so did two others.

Sunday afternoon, Greg called me to tell me that Art Fair had officially been shut down. Apparently, some of the guests at the all-expense paid dinner were benefactors of the art program and a city official was there too. When a lot of people walked away from their 99-cent tacos and burritos, the benefactors and the city official were not happy and decided something was not right with the way things were being handled at Art Fair. So the city official decided to shut it down…at least for the time being. You know, just to figure things out. Who knew doing the right thing would be such a terrible thing? This was all my fault. Actually, if you think about it…John Mayer really is the one to blame. Him and his inspiring music.

irreplaceable

A couple of weeks ago, I found out that an old high school friend, Celina, was pregnant. Eight weeks to be exact. Which was weird, because when I ran into her at the Gwen Stefani concert, she was downing rum and coke like there was no tomorrow. Guess she didn’t know then, either. But once she did know, Celina’s life changed. She had just turned 21 and realized that she could no longer indulge in twenty-something activities, like going out to a club, ordering a drink and have an adventure that would most certainly qualify her as a cool grandparent. Instead, she would have to spend her first legal drinking year at home, listening to friend and family members alike, recount their wild weekends. And even after she had the baby, she couldnt go out for another two, three years! Talk about a major downer.

But as I soon discovered, I was kinda floating around in the same boat.

With Lucy, my life changed. I found myself putting her needs before mine, just like a parent would do for their own flesh and blood. I was canceling happy hours and outings with my friends just to come home and be with Lucy. I was even discussing different types of dog food and her bowel movements. I didn’t realize I was putting a major damper on my social life until my friend Madelaine pointed it out. She had invited me to a wine tasting event and I had to decline because I needed to feed Lucy. Ok, I guess that was a bad excuse for not going out. After all, when I went to work, I left Lucy in the care of my brother, Collin. So it’s not like she would starve to death or be unsupervised. I was afraid I was becoming like one of those parents who could do nothing but only talk about their new babies and so when Madelaine invited me to dinner and a play, I decided to do something about it.

I made a few phone calls, switched some things around and accepted Madelaine’s invitation. Unfortunately, I took a little too long and Madelaine made other plans, giving me a free and lonely Saturday night. I had successfully (or would it be considered un-successfully?) transferred from the Parenthood Prairie to Loser Land. And it was during my brief stay in Loser Land that I discovered a horrifying fact: Lucy liked Collin, more than me. She followed him more, listened to him more, and even played tug-o-rope with him more. I couldn’t help but feel like I was doing something wrong. I thought I was doing everything a good parent should. I gave her the best food, the best toys, even the best in puppy couture! So why was Collin being favored over me? Was I being replaced?

Meanwhile, somewhere in San Diego, in La Jolla to be exact, three girls were having fun in a nightclub. My friend Hadassah went with her friend Sally to support their friend Ruby in a marathon to help fight lung cancer. Ruby had been practicing for over a year and now it was her time to shine, but like all shinning moments, it made Ruby nervous. So, Hadassah figured a wild and crazy night in a beach city like La Jolla would help out. And it did. For a while, until Sally got really drunk and started throwing up everywhere; the bar, the dance floor, the bathroom, the parking lot, everywhere.

The next morning, Hadassah discovered that not only was her entire party hung over from the party last night, but the alcohol seemed to put a damper on Sally’s mood for the rest of the weekend. She didn’t feel like participating in any of the activities they had planned. Instead of shopping or hanging out at the beach, all Sally wanted to do was stay in bed and sleep, bitching and moaning about everything: the sun, the people, the weather, everything.

Everyone figured that Sally’s sour mood was probably due to the drastic change in location, but when it followed her back home and stuck around during a “Welcome Back!” party, it was enough. One person in particular who had had enough, was Keely, who got into a verbal fight with Sally after hearing her bitch and moan about a “horrible, sucky weekend.” Then, out of nowhere, Keely threw a fast fist right into Sally’s face. The entire party was put on pause for a few moments, but regained its energy once the girl-on-girl fight was in full mode. It ended when Keely threw her body into Sally and broke her leg in a bizarre lower body twist, sending her not only to hysterics, but to the hospital. The fight, the sour mood, and other past problems with Sally led everyone to the same conclusion: she had to go. It was so third grade.

A couple days later, during a mid-Thursday afternoon (why is it everything happens to me, mid-Thursday afternoon?), Hadassah came by to the flower shop. She had just finished having lunch with her mother, when she decided to ask me if I wanted to go to the John Mayer concert next week. I accepted and asked how she came about an extra ticket. In a calm and rational voice, Hadassah explained that it was originally Sally’s ticket, but since she hadn’t paid for the ticket yet, and the fact that nobody was talking to her, it was up for grabs. I felt like I should take back my acceptance for the ticket. I didn’t wanna replace Sally. I didnt wanna do to her, what I thought Collin was doing to me. But then again, it is a John Mayer concert, a guy who Rolling Stone magazine recently named one this century’s rock guitar gods...

P.S. I know this is kinda old and all, but if you have any extra time or just wanna search through some blogs, check out my friend Mel's blog. She went to the Hollywood premiere of Pirates of the Caribbean and got to meet all kinds of world-famous celebrities. Totally blows my tale of Kathleen Turner right out of the water.

i love lucy

It's been said before (and not just by 1980's hip hop group, Whodini), that freaks come out of night. I guess there's something about the dark, soulless streets that attracts something inside the freaks to come alive and to be merry. But for the freaks in Tucson, it's not the night that attracts them. It's downtown. There's Kenny, the guy who wears a leather vest and a headdress made out of soda can pull-tabs and stands in the corner asking people for money for medicinal marijuana. There's Jaime, the mannish woman (or womanish man, depending how you look at it) who's always buying random gifts for married women all around downtown. There's even Ms. Kitty, the lady who owns the shoe shine stand across the flower shop, who hired a homeless man, fell in love and married him two months later. But the biggest freak of them all is the strange lady who came in last Thursday.

It was mid-afternoon and like most mid-afternoons, I was bored. Then She came in. I say She, since I have no idea who she was or if I'll ever see her again. She came in with a spring in her step and some really good, top-notch Amphetamines in her system. I mean, it made sense, since she kept raving about all the beautiful, positive energy that was coming from the flowers from our shop, floating all around downtown, creating beautiful, positive energy for everyone.

SHE: Beautiful. Just beautiful. Yes. Your flowers are beautiful.
ME: Thanks.
SHE: You are beautiful. Life is beautiful. Everything in your shop is beautiful. And I love the beautiful, positive energy coming forth from your flowers. It's making my spirit soar to outstanding heights. It's feeding creative energy to everyone downtown. I could feel it a mile away. My inner me is brimming with happiness and I feel so beautiful and bright. Thank you. Thank you.

She actually went on for several more minutes, inhaling the scent of the flowers to the point where I thought she would have an orgasm, right there in the Frontier Building lobby. God. I wish flower energy could make me feel that good. And that's when I noticed She's crocheted bag move. She saw me look at her bag with interest and pulled out a tiny, little brown ball of furry fluff. It looked like a toy, only it wasn't. It was a real live, adorably cute puppy! I had to hold this tiny little thing! The puppy was so small, it fit right in the palm of my hand, looking up at me with these big brown eyes. The moment an "Awwwww…" escaped from my lips, She came up with a "most wonderful, beautiful idea."

SHE: I have a most wonderful, beautiful idea! Look at you two! Oh! How it makes my beautiful heart cry out with beautiful joy! I am looking, with my soul, at your luminous auras and they are a beautiful, beautiful match! You two are meant for each other. It is your destiny! You belong to each other! I cannot take her away from you. She is yours.

And with that, She walked out the door and into downtown. I didn't know what to do. I was stuck with this tiny little puppy and I wondered if She really left her dog behind. Was I being Punk'd? I had to be. This was too weird not to be caught on camera for millions of people not to enjoy. But there were no secret cameras or Ashton Kutcher jumping out of the plants telling me to look into the camera. This was real.

Soon people began to notice I was holding a tiny puppy and they began to ask where it came from, who it belonged to, and if they had any more, could they buy one. I didn't know if She would come back and ask for her puppy, so I had to come up with a story. Fast.

ME: She belongs…to…my friend! Yeah! My friend. She's in, um, you know, court and so…you know. I'm dog sitting. For her. My friend. You know.

The story sold. I knew I would have to tell my boss Alice the truth, when she came in, but for the time being, my little white lie was working perfectly. That is, until our delivery driver Chamo came back to the shop to ask if there were any more deliveries. His eyes lit up when he saw the puppy and I tried hinting to him, that I would tell him the story later, since we had customers who were admiring the little puppy, but he demanded to know right away. So. I told him the same white lie. I felt bad for doing it, but I didn't want half of downtown thinking I stole a dog.

Chamo decided to stick around and even helped me close the shop, he wanted to meet "my friend" and ask, "my friend," if they had any more puppies. Of course, when "my friend" never showed, I knew She was never coming back. I had a brand new puppy! Now all I needed to do was get Chamo off his crazy idea of keeping the puppy, if "my friend" never came back from court. That and convince my parents I found the puppy on the side of the road. I could already hear my mother's voice telling me I should have ran to the person who gave me the puppy and told them a puppy was the last thing I needed in my life. Oh, wait. That was my mother, who said exactly that the moment she saw me holding the adorably, cute puppy. But since I, "found her" there was nobody to take it back to and so we welcomed a new addition to our family. A new addition, named Lucy (named after that classic Beatles song, Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, because that's the song that was playing on the radio when She gave her to me).

The next day, Lucy and I became better acquainted and I fell in love. Lucy totally took over my heart. As well as the house. As far as Lucy was concerned everything was hers and she let us know this by peeing in the middle of every room. She gave kisses to everyone she came in contact, but being that she is so small, her kisses only came up to everyone's ankles. My parents got the most kisses, as if Lucy knew where her next meal was coming from. She was so smart, so spoiled and so sick.

It was three in the morning when I heard Lucy cry. I had made the living room into a modern Arabian Nights palace, complete with pillows, blanket throws and a canopy made of three chairs and a thin linen sheet. I didn't know how Lucy would fare on my sleigh bed, so I figured a floor bed would be the next best thing. And it was until her crying woke me up and I saw that she was leaking diarrhea. I tried stroking her, comforting her, hoping to God it wasn't anything too serious, but as the minutes turned into hours, I knew something was up and so I rushed to the hospital.

By the time I got to the hospital, the towel I carried Lucy in was covered in shit. Her body was limp and her cries became louder and louder. I was scared. I loved Lucy so much and to see her in pain was just heartbreaking. And when she had a seizure while the nurse was looking her over, I lost it. Tears just started streaming down my face and the nurses had to escort me out. Suddenly, I understood all those Sally Field movies where she deals with the possibility of losing something precious to her, like Not Without My Daughter, Steel Magnolias, and almost any other movie she's ever done.

In the waiting room, time had slowed down. The minutes felt like hours and it seemed like a lifetime before the doctor called me back in. Dr. Shauna Stevens sounded like that secretary Roz, from Monsters Inc., but with a Cindy Brady-like lisp. I couldn't understand the words she was trying to form with her oversized, thick-as-fuck tongue, and I began to cry even more, hoping somebody with articulate speech could tell me what was going on with my puppy! Her blood sugar was really low and her white cell count was really high, which resulted as a seizure. And though low blood sugar was a major factor in Lucy’s seizure, there was also the possibility of parvovirus and distemper, which, according to the doctor, could lead to an early, untimely death.

That’s when they gave me the bill. $800. Well, $765.45, to be exact, but when a bill that’s high, you may as well round up and start imagining life without your morning white mocha macchiato from Starbucks. Of course, being a college student, I did not have that kind of money just laying around and so I turned to my financial aid. My parents. They of course, choked, the moment when the nurse explained the bill and I wondered if the animal hospital was capable of diagnosing two full grown human adults. They asked me if I was sure I wanted to keep this puppy. After all I had only spent a day with the puppy. How attached could I be? Would it really be so bad if I put it to sleep?

I couldn’t believe what they were saying. It was like the first chapter of Charlotte's Web. How could I kill an innocent little puppy? How could I kill my baby? It wasn’t her fault she got sick. She looked so helpless in her incubator with an IV attached in her left leg and it just made me cry even more. Guess this is what it feels like to be a parent. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat. Oh, who am I kidding. I’m Mexican. When we stress, we eat. The food just comes to us in large quantities. And its all covered it in gooey, delicious cheese.

For the next three days, I couldn’t get out of bed. I kept calling the hospital every two hours, checking Lucy’s status and even though they kept telling me her health was improving, it wasn’t enough to comfort me. I was in shambles and I would be until that memorable Memorial Day, when I got the call that Lucy was ready to come home. There she was, all smiles and all ready to go home. Since then, I havent slept for days, I’ve completely lost my figure, but in the end, when it’s for somebody you love, it’s all worth it.

the highs and lows of dining

It all started, two weeks ago, when my best friend Madelaine was looking for a restaurant to celebrate her upcoming Twenty-First birthday. Something "fabulous" and "light". The winner was a Mediterranean restaurant called Casablanca, located in downtown Tucson. It sounded so classy and adventurous, that I could already picture myself walking into a candle-lit room, like in those old-time black and white movies, where the people drank martini's, smoked cigarettes, and winked at the guy playing the grand piano in the corner, saying in a raspy, sexy voice, "Play it again, Sam."

We were all set. We would dine in good old-fashioned glamour and dance the night away at Level, Tucson's most exclusive club where patrons were not allowed to wear sneakers or torn jeans (finally, somebody was able to perfect the natural selection and thin out the herd of the unwanted...it was bound to happen in our little city, sometime). Then something tragic happened. The day before the party, I found out, through Alice's friend Jaz, that Casablanca was not a sanitary place to eat. Up until a few days before, Jaz was the bartender at Casablanca, but quit her job after she realized she was the only one who used soap when washing the dishes. It was just not a sanitary place to be.

I didn't know what to do. If I told Madelaine, then she'd have to find a new place to hold her party and as everyone knows, trying to find a new restaurant during graduation weekend is like trying to find humor in a Jamie Kennedy movie. On the other hand, if I didn't say anything, well…isn't there's something, anything, to say for stomach-pumping stories?

With less than 24 hours to the party, Madelaine was in panic mode and I being the good friend that I am had to help find a last minute restaurant. We went through restaurant guides and newspaper reviews, reading all about the fascinating and delicious foods that Tucson had to offer, other than the Mexican food were so well known for. Who knew there was such a vast selection? We eventually settled on an Asian fusion restaurant but then, through a series of unfortunate events, that could only happen to a couple of twenty-something’s like us, everything changed and we ended up celebrating Madelaine's birthday nuptials at Applebee’s. Eh. At least they had a half-off happy hour.

At a little past eight, I was dressed to the nines and ready to hang ten and have some fun. Everyone had called me and text me earlier that day to remind me to wear dressy shoes and not sneakers, because being turned away from Level would be just too humiliating. As if. Like I didn't know how to dress. Granted at the last formal affair I went to, I wore a skeleton pirate T-shirt with dirty denim jeans, but still. I learned from that experience, and went to the party wearing a grey Banana Republic goodie underneath a dress jacket, a look inspired by Justin Timberlake and Adam Brody, but perfected by me. Then it turns out, Level's natural selection process was on high alert and potential party-goers were being turned away, left and right, making the club an exclusive place where half of Tucson went to see if they could and or would be selected to join the worthy few. We already knew where we stood on the list (accepted, of course) and ended up spending the night in a little, crowded Mexican nightclub, El Charro, dancing and getting drunk until we could no longer say the word, "Margarita."

All in all, the birthday night wasn't a total disaster, because what came out of it, was an interest to go out and try new restaurants and new food. Maybe it was because I read so many different entrée's from so many different menus. Or maybe it was the fact that my dear blog friend Carrie had recently just written a post about her top five restaurants in Ottawa, Canada. Or maybe it was because, being a fan of the Rachel Ray show, $40 A Day, I've always wanted to go to new, far away places and enjoy three meals a day with only $40, but I figured since there were a lot of restaurants in my own city that I've yet to try. Whatever the reason was, the person who couldn't agree with me more, was none other than Colette. She had recently discovered a restaurant called NoRTH and couldn't get over the amazing cuisine that they served. And so, on five different days, during the past week, Colette invited me to five different restaurants, each pricier and more delicious than the last. Thus began the ritual known from here on out as, The Five Dinners.

1)NoRTH - Taking its cue from an Italian trattoria, NoRTH offers a contemporary approach to Modern Italian Cuisine. The carefully thought out menu highlights unique antipasti which reflects the best of the season, wood fired pizzas, inventive pasta dishes and secondi that feature many wood roasted and grilled dishes. My selections? The Prosciutto and goat cheese pizza and the salmon entrée with roasted squash and sweet onions.

2) Elle - Set in the historic Broadway Village building, designed by famed Tucson architect, Josias Joesler, Elle is a beautiful restaurant with a beautiful menu to match. The restaurant is a simple, yet tasteful place to be. Just like the food. By itself, the ingredients are simple, but together they create something spectacular. Organically-produced, locally-grown items are featured year 'round, including over forty different types of wine that give the delectable dishes an added je nais se quois. Colette and I shared the fried brie with spiced green apple chutney and roasted garlic cloves and for the main course I had pan-seared ahi tuna with a terrific pineapple-cilantro sauce.

3) Café Terra Cotta - Somewhere in the marvelous Catalina Mountains, is a marvelous restaurant that considers itself as Arizona’s first introduction to Southwestern cuisine. It combines fundamental ingredients native to the American Southwest and northern Mexico (chiles, corn, tomatoes, squash, and beans, etc.) with dishes that are normally found deep in Mexico, especially to the Yucatan, central Mexico, and Oaxaca, where the sauces are more robust, complex, and balanced, and presented in a classical French contemporary cooking techniques and presentation style. It’s really unique and really different than the Mexican food I'm used to. I had the Chef's special, which was herb-roasted quail with a pesto glaze and a garden vegetable medley, and it would have been one of the most perfect meals of my life, had I not seen a quail family run across the parking lot as we were leaving.

4. Café Poca Cosa - Hidden underneath a parking garage is a fantastic restaurant called Café Poca Cosa. In its place is a sweeping, stylish dining room with objects of Mexican art, on display, as if in a museum. I’ve raved about this restaurant in posts before, because it is simply one of the best and most satisfying Mexican restaurants in town. The menu, which seems to be inspired by Laura Esquivel’s novel, Like Water for Chocolate (side note, it’s one of the few, really great books that I think would make a terrific movie…), doesn’t feature traditional Mexican food, like tacos, burritos or enchiladas, but has a fresh selection of chilies, spices, vegetables, that Chef Susana Davila changes, several times a day. Because of the constant change, it is hard to recommend a dish. However, there is one thing that does stay the same and that is The Café Poca Cosa plate, which is a selection of three, mouth-watering entrée’s, selected by the chef, who decides what gets to go on each plate. Like a snowflake, no two plates are the same. My plate came with a breast of chicken, covered in a cream sauce made of red chile, chocolate, and wine, a grilled, shredded beef with a jalapeño chile and tomatillo sauce and a corn tamale pie, topped with a mango and cinnamon puree.

5) Montana Avenue - The menu is a delicious blend of updated comfort foods, taking its cue from the rich culinary traditions of Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona and California. A well chosen wine list will reflect a boutique selection from some of the finest American wineries and a unique specialty cocktail menu will feature one of a kind creations. The Rainbow trout and macaroni and cheese with the andouille sausage is simply to die for. At least that’s what I hear. I don’t remember.

Now, you’re probably wondering how two twenty-something’s without high-paying executive jobs could afford such places. And actually, I wondered about that too, since I didn’t pay for anything. Colette, wouldn’t let me. This was her idea, therefore, according to her, it was her tab to worry about. But still. It made me wonder how she could afford such an extravagance. That’s when she finally told me. We were at Montana Avenue, when Colette confesses that she was a stripper.

Colette had only been working as a topless performer for two weeks. It started after she quit her job at Vitamin World. Her boss, who used to be a local radio DJ, invited her to go see Spiderman 3, after closing the store one night, and Colette went obligingly. It wasn’t until the next day, that Colette regretted her decision. Her boss told her he had a great time and Colette knew he was hitting on her. So, before he could hit on her and sexually harass her, she quit. With no job and more than several bills to pay, Colette needed money. And fast.

The classifieds were chockfull of audition ad’s for strip clubs and topless bars. Sure it wasn’t as glamorous as Hollywood made it out to be, but it did help keep bread on the table and off the streets. That’s when Colette remembered that our mutual acquaintance, Devona Monet, who worked at TD’s West Club. She went in and immediately Devona got Colette a job as a waitress. Sure it wasn’t as much as Devona made, but it was a living. And the best thing was that Colette liked it. That’s when her boss took notice of her and asked Colette if she would like to try her hand at performing on stage. She was guaranteed at least $600 for one night, and the rest, as they say, is history.

So was the possibility that there could be anything romantic between us. At least I think so. After Colette confessed how she came into so much money, I didn’t know what to say. My silence reeked of confusion, disapproval, and judgment. I felt bad. And besides, it's not like The Amy Vanderbilt Complete Book of Etiquette didn’t have any pointers when a person confessed that they removed articles of clothing for strange people.

After dinner, my friend Maria called me up and suggested we go for a midnight snack at In N Out. After I told her everything about Colette and the fancy dining we had done, I realized, you can rave all you want about rich, fancy food, but when it comes to plain, good eating, there’s just nothing in the world like a simple restaurant like Applebee's or a simple meal, like a cheeseburger, French fries, and a strawberry shake.

when david met kathleen turner

Ok, so last week, when I was writing my latest post about my latest adventures around town, I realized I had way too many things to talk about. Things like the Centurion Casino Royale Party, my friend Madelaine’s birthday dinner, and of course, Colette. And if I had this many things to talk about, it probably meant that the work part of my life, you know, the boring part, was suffering. Ugh. Which explains my absence. That and the fact that something, awesomely cool has happened.

It all started two years ago when Mr. Scott Wolley, my English teacher showed the entire class the classic movie, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? It was so dark and intense…I loved it. And so did Madelaine, who sat right next to me in class. So it only made sense that we both would go see the play when it came to town. And lo and behold, when the day finally came, I knew exactly who to call, once I got my free tickets from Broadway In Tucson.

The morning of the play, it seemed as if the entire city was in a frenzy over the arrival of Mrs. Kathleen Turner. The Broadway in Tucson staff was running around, like little children in the schoolyard, playing tag while we, at the flower shop, were preparing extravagant arrangements for Mrs. Kathleen Turner and entourage. It was so exciting to create something that would be appreciated and housed in the dressing room of a Hollywood legend. While, I was making Mrs. Kathleen Turner’s arrangement, I kept picturing how I would present the flowers to her and what I would say.

“Hello, Kathleen.” Too friendly.

“Hello, Mrs. Turner.” Too formal.

“Hello, Mrs. Kathleen Turner.” Too used.

“Hello, Mrs. Kathleen Magnificently-Opulent-Tremendously-Talented-Stupendously-Spectacularp-Gargantuan-Goddess of Film, Television and Stage Turner.” Perfect.

And what was even more perfect, was my plan to have her sign my DVD copy of Romancing the Stone and record my voicemail at the cast and crew party, which I made certain the staff of Broadway In Tucson invited me to. I had to meet her and get her autograph and voice on my phone. Imagine. Whenever somebody would call, I would have the one and only voice of Mrs. Jessica Rabbit telling all my friends and family to leave me a voicemail. Wow.

Later that night, me, Madelaine, and a couple of our friends sat in Row D, and watched a couple of couples play verbally, savage games against one another. It was terribly dramatic and oh so intense. Like an episode of Jerry Springer that you know you should turn away from, but cant help watch with amazement (God, I hope Edward Albee never hears me compare his work of art to low-class, trashy entertainment…) It was so surreal to see Mrs. Kathleen Turner and Bill Irwin (who played Mr. Lou Lou Who in How the Grinch Stole Christmas and Mr. Noodle in all those Elmo’s World videos…don’t ask how I know…just trust me) on stage instead of on the big screen, performing for us mere mortals.

After the play, Madelaine and I attended the cast party, at the historic Congress Hotel. It was the perfect setting for an intimate dinner with a celebrity. Walking across the marbled foyer into a room of rich, dark wood with , I felt like one of those old-time black and white movie stars. It’s the same feeling I get whenever I go to Disneyland and ride The Hollywood Tower of Terror. Soft lighting, smooth jazz, and delicious baby lamb chops. This was one big budget, for one big star. And speaking of big stars, I wondered where Mrs. Kathleen Turner was. It wasn’t until I was seated, that I realized I had just walked right by Mrs. Kathleen Turner’s table. For a big Hollywood legend, you’d think she’d walk around with her own lighting. You know, to shine and stand out in the crowd. I mean, I would. But there she was. Sitting across from me, at the next table over, looking all legendary and Hollywood, just like I imagined she would be. Here was my chance to meet some greatness.

But when I got up to meet Mrs. Kathleen Turner, so did Madelaine, my boss Alice, and her friend Julia, editor-in-chief of the local Arizona Jewish Post. Guess my meeting with Mrs. Kathleen Turner would have to be in groupie form. Ugh. There we were, not two feet away from Mrs. Kathleen Turner in stunned silence. That is until Julia broke the silence and asked Mrs. Kathleen Turner if she could bother her for an autograph. As Mrs. Kathleen Turner obliged, Julia then introduced her to Alice, as the lady who provided the snapdragons that were used on stage and the flowers that were placed in her dressing room. That’s when Madelaine got the bright idea to market Alice’s Downtown Flower Market using the simple slogan, “Flowers, as seen on stage with Mrs. Kathleen Turner,” which made Mary excited, which made Julia talk about possible advertising ideas, which made Mrs. Kathleen Turner annoyed. You could tell by her forced smile, she was not amused to hear everyone talk about a flower shop when she was standing right there, waiting to be worshipped. She even refused Madelaine’s request for a photo-op, saying she was tired. It was so humiliating. Was I the only one that knew how to act around a celebrity? Was I the only one who knew that when in the presence of a celebrity, you’re supposed to bow and speak only when spoken to?

And for a brief few moments, I lost all hope that I would ever get to shake hands with Mrs. Kathleen Turner or even get her to sign my DVD. It seemed as if it just wasn’t gonna happen. But then, thanks to the great support of my friends, I got my confidence back. Everyone at the cast party knew I was on a mission to get Mrs. Kathleen Turner to sign my DVD and when they saw that my first try had failed, they encouraged me to try again. After all, nobody gets to meet celebrities by sitting on their ass. Unless, of course, you have the TV set to Access Hollywood or the E! Network.

I had two choices. I could continue to sit and eat my skewered lamb chops, which were served on the same plate, by the same caterer, in the same intimate setting as Mrs. Kathleen Turner or, I could get up, walk right up to her, and have her sign my DVD and record my voicemail. And that’s exactly what I did.

ME: Mrs. Kathleen Turner, my name is David Tellez and I am a HUGE fan I loved you in The Man with Two Brains and Serial Mom, The Virgin Suicides, Chandler's Dad you are so amazingly terrific and I was wondering if you would be so kind as to honor me by signing my copy of Romancing the Stone I loved you in this movie because you are so incandescent and if you hold on real quick, let me just pull this cover out and oh my God, this is so embarrassing because my friend wanted me to ask you to do my voicemail, but never mind about that, thank you so much for doing this for me, you have no idea how much this means to me thank you, thank you, thank you...

Not once did I breathe or leave any room for punctuation or for Mrs. Kathleen Turner to get a word in edgewise. I didn’t even get a chance to ask Mrs. Kathleen Turner to record my voicemail. I was shaking the entire time, and I’m sure, Mrs. Kathleen Turner thought I was from the Make-A-Wish foundation. I even walked away, still bowing to her. Ugh. I was like one of those losers when they meet William Shatner at a Trekkie convention. But nonetheless, I got my DVD signed and I got to meet a big-name, classic celebrity. It doesnt get much twenty-something than that.