Discrete Gossip Queen Part 2

I'm going to skip the self-flagellation for being such a sporadic blogger (with a name like Sporadic Sporkitudes, you have to expect periods of radio silence in between frantic, Fun Dip fueled rants and lame but lengthy lists). Basically what I've been up to these past few weeks has been just collecting stories. Oh, such stories. Wonderful, weird, so unbelievable that they could only be true, stories. Unfortunately, I can't really share many of them. I don't want to get in trouble. But one of these days, your new favorite prime time 'soapedy' (a phrase I just coined) will be based on the wacky land that is Studio City.

Especially if you are off your nut, balls to the wall, k-k-krazy!

With a population of residents larger than my hometown, there is no end to the hijinks that occur on a daily, no hourly, basis. Especially when that population consists of porn stars, child actors, their stage moms, struggling actors both attractive and not, (also talented and not), wannabe musicians, fading flash in the pan reality sensations, participants in the Witness Protection Program, spoiled rich playboys/girls, and the straight up bat-shit crazy.

Yes, I'm writing it all down. Observing to report later on. If nothing else but for my own amusement. I already had the idea for a show that was based upon the first apartment complex I lived in in Irvine. But Studio City blows that sleepy little college town out of the water and into the stratosphere. I'm actually overwhelmed by what goes on here. It's too much to even fathom at times. Luckily the stress has gone down now that we're not as busy. But there is no shortage of insanity.

So I guess this blog is a bit of a tease, but I will tell you some of the elements you will see in my future, probably never to be written much less produced soapedy:

1. Mistresses featured in major celebrity sex scandals. Yes, that was plural. (and finding out the preferences certain insane celebrities request when choosing their prostitutes).

2. Crazy ladies screaming in gibberish whilst running topless from one of the three gyms on the property.

3. Former one-hit-wonder rap/rock celebrity rehab junkies (the one that climbed the building a few months ago) trashing an apartment and then hearing on the radio the next morning about this person's arrest.

4. Rumors of a meth lab that could explode any moment and discussing whether or not this was a legitimate excuse to evict someone.

5. Residents using the move-in inspection as an excuse to attempt to seduce certain employees (which certain employees claim to have refused, but you never know ; ) )

6. A Russian mob shooting in the parking garage

7. Couple who may or may not be in the Witness Protection Program. (They're not very pleasant. But I guess you wouldn't be either)

8. A big time hip hop artist and producer's daughter's Crip boyfriend dragging her out in the hall by her hair wearing only a bra at the time.

9. A Saudi princess with her own security detail who did nothing but shop for Gucci bags all day.

10. I assisted an 18 year old male model with his very first taxes.

Even the dogs are actors. I met one who had been in multiple episodes of CSI New York among other things.

I'm sure there's more, but I'm just slowly taking it all in. There's years of crazy to sift through and find the juiciest bits.

On an unrelated note, I just found out that Kenneth from 30 Rock frequents the pub down the street where my friends and I went to trivia night the other night! And to think we were stoked to see the kid who played Elliot in E.T.!

Discrete Gossip Queen

I have the world's biggest blabber mouth. If I know something juicy (or even vaguely moist...ew...moist), I have to spill. Unfortunately, I'm not technically allowed to divulge any personal information from my job. And this is Sporadic Sporkitudes, not TMZ, so I have to keep it classy. But things happen and they're so weird/funny/crazy, and I feel like I'm going to explode if I don't tell someone. Because if no one knows about it, it didn't happen. And therefore my entire existence is invalidated. (Blow your mind just now, did I?)

Not actually me. But just so you know

how I feel when I see these things

and think, wow that's super cool

and can't say anything...

So I've decided to let y'all in on some of the wacky hijinks to which I am lucky enough to be privy. Well most aren't really wacky. But they do involve people you might recognize if I were not classy. What follows is the censored version. I won't give any names, any real info other than the situation.

Here is what happened in the past week:

1. A former Playboy model took family pictures out on our lawn.

2. A recurring character on the L Word took a tour of the premises.

3. I reset a password for a girl I recognized from a movie I had just seen on Netflix, as well as an episode of Grey's Anatomy.

4.5. I gave away a former resident/current Laker's parking space to someone else. Oooh exciting, right? But still it was cool to see his name in our system even if I don't follow sports and actively loathe the Lakers and everything this person stands for.

4. A former Nickelodeon star turned legitimate actor marveled at my strength as I lifted his enormous package. (Best compliment ever, "Wow, you're really strong." Darn tootin', former Nickelodeon star. Darn tootin'.) Get your mind out of the gutter. It was a cardboard box, not his penis. But it was really heavy, so be impressed nonetheless.

5. A former rapper/singer for a band that had a one-hit wonder when I was in 7th grade that my mom wouldn't let me sing because she thought it was dirty even though I didn't get the innuendo at the time but now I do (breathes) turned junkie turned Celebrity Rehab reality star turned back into a junkie ("who prefers to smoke rock-cocaine" according to the report) literally scaled several floors of one of our buildings to break into someone's apartment. Now that one I wish I could say his name, because it is the best name EVER. (Hint, it's an alliteration. And I do love me some alliteration)

6. This doesn't involve someone marginally famous, but I did get a call from a new resident asking if I had heard anything about the attempted murder in the parking lot. That one caught me off guard. But nope. No attempted murder. She was misinformed. But still. Weird.

7. And speaking of non-famous people who do weird things, a guy called our front gate to report that his psycho ex-girlfriend was so mad at him she was "pouring orange juice and kool-aid all over the floor." Who does that? I swear, these people may have money, but they crazy.

This is a very strange place. You can basically assume that anyone who walks through the door is in some phase of fame, whether it's child stars with pushy moms obsessed with dog poop, those you can tell probably won't make it, those right on the verge, those who will never make it out of the fringe, and the washed-up has-beens. And if they're not famous, they think they are and you should treat them accordingly. Sigh. Good stories though, even if I can't say everything.

UPDATE: 2/2/11 A sitcom child star is finally grown up to get his own apartment, but still needs his momma by his side. I think if I say the sitcom is based on a certain comedian, it won't give it away too much. Most of them are.

Nude Nuns with Big Guns!

"This sister is one bad mother." I swear to god, Nude Nuns with Big Guns is a real movie, and no it's not a porno. The rights to distribute it worldwide are on sale at the American Film Market in Santa Monica, so come on down! I saw the ad for it while running an errand and just about flipped out in front of all the international film executives. I NEED to see this movie because:

This could be the new greatest story ever told.

1. I freaking LOVE nuns!!! As evidenced by those joyful, leaping ladies in black to your right. Why do I love nuns? I'm not really sure. It's probably because I'm not Catholic and am therefore not frightened of them. Though I was a bit unnerved by the films "Sex in a Cold Climate" and "The Magdalene Sisters." (Which I highly recommend despite such painful thematic content). Maybe I identify with nuns on some level. I'm not sure how, since I revile all religion and any philosophy that practices extreme self-discipline and denial. But nuns make me happy. In fact, whenever I see them in real life I try to sneakily take a picture. It would take years of psychoanalysis to explain it, which I can't afford. So just accept that Hutch loves nuns.

2. Nude nuns? This intrigued me. How can a nun be a nun if she's nude? How do you know she's a nun if she's naked? Does she wear a habit? A cross? How do they solve this dilemma? My curiosity has been piqued. It's just such a contradiction.

3. I am sick and love violence for some reason. Especially when it's women kicking ass in any capacity. So nuns kicking ass, HELL YEAH!!

4. That tagline is priceless. So many taglines are just plain awful. So you have to reward their stellar marketing department's efforts.

5. I swear to god I heard this project being pitched when I was an intern at a small production company in college. I was sitting outside the producer's office listening to some overly-enthusiastic guy shout about "Nuns coming in with tits and guns a-blazin'." I don't know if it's the same exact movie, but I knew then and there that I had to check that out.

To make a long and complicated list short (too late), this is the movie of my dreams. Sadly, it will probably turn out to be awful. Especially now that I've put all my hopes and dreams into it. Just like what happened with "The Nun," a horror movie about a Satanic woman of the cloth. Not good. Wasted potential. You hate to see that happen. So maybe I should never actually see "Nude Nuns with Big Guns." Because it will never be as good as the movie in my head.

And in other AFM news, I could have sworn I spotted Dustin Hoffman walking on the fifth floor of the Loews, but upon closer observation of his badge...it wasn't. Oh well. Perhaps I'll never get to confront him about not hiring me to work at his production company (though I doubt he was involved personally in that decision). So no brilliant Oscar-Winning actors today, or even underrated sitcom dads. But there is rumored to be a Thai princess arriving later this evening. I guess she's in one of the movies being sold. There's even a red carpet for her arrival. Super keen.

I'd like to take this moment to say that if you are a potential employer considering hiring me for your high-profile production company that handles A-list clients like Dustin Hoffman and John Marshall Jones, please note that I swear I will be much more discreet about those persons of interest that I encounter.

Floyd and the Hendersons

After nearly dying twice in two separate elevators in the span of about five minutes, I was rewarded with a vision. And that vision goes by the name of Floyd Henderson, otherwise known as the dad on the short-lived but much-loved (by me) family sitcom, "Smart Guy." If you've never seen the show, which aired from 1997-99, it was about an adorable, precocious wunderkind played by the younger, more talented brother of twins Tia and Tamara Mowry (of "Sister, Sister" fame). TJ is so smart that he skips six grades and ends up in high school with his less gifted, more goofy brother Marcus, and snotty, overachieving sister Yvette. The Hendersons have their ups and downs, and their wacky hijinks, but they are all bonded together by the rock that is Floyd Henderson, their good-looking, wise-cracking single father.

The Henderson family, with their kooky friend Mo,

who is not known for his failed catch phrase, "Hello d'ere!"

It was a typical sitcom, nothing revolutionary about it. But it was just dandy. I looked forward to watching reruns of "Smart Guy" and "Boy Meets World" when I got home from school and did my homework. (I just found out today that the two shows actually used the exact same high school set, thrifty!) So when I was making the badge for John Marshall Jones to attend the film industry event I work for, I could have sworn his name sounded familiar. When I saw his picture, I immediate recognized him as Floyd, one of television's most underrated dads. There are a lot of interesting people coming to the event (I won't drop names...actually I probably will). But John Marshall Jones was the one I was most stoked about. We don't usually see the people that come to the event, being trapped downstairs in the offices with the ocean view. But just knowing that he was attending, made me feel a slight sense of unwarranted superiority.

John Marshall Jones. You so crazy.

As I said, I almost died in the elevator, twice. So when I finally arrived, breathless and heart racing, at my destination, (the registration room) who should be standing there talking to my co-worker, but FLOYD FRICKIN' HENDERSON! It took me a second to recognize him, but I flipped out internally as I waited for him to finish talking. I didn't know what to say! (Though I always wonder what you're supposed to say to celebrities when you encounter them in real life. And yes, I use the term 'celebrity' loosely here.) "Hey Floyd! I mean John...You were in that awesome but quickly cancelled tv series over 10 years ago. I kinda dug you. How's tricks?" Not bloody likely. So he left, without ever knowing that I enjoyed his performance and took great comfort in his tough but amused love approach to parenting the gifted and the goofy. I later found out that my friend got even luckier and saw Jenna Fischer (Pam Beesley from "The Office") at the Ralph's in Studio City. She wins, but still. FLOYD!

The point is, after being so close to death, (or stuck in an elevator when I had to pee really bad), it was nice to see a reminder of my childhood. And the rest of the day I couldn't get the show's awesomely awkward theme rap out of my head. "He's got a way with the ladies, and he's keepin' it real. Your favorite little study buddy, he knows the deal!" Classic.

How do you talk to a celebrity?

I've seen a few celebrities in my time, but rarely had the opportunity to actually speak to one. I went to Molly Malone's when Jesse Spencer (pretty blonde Aussie from House) stood next to me at the bar. Didn't say a word. I also stood next to Oscar-winner Ellen Burstyn for twenty minutes at the Newport Beach Film Festival and couldn't think of one goddamn thing to say to her either. Granted, it was in the back of a darkened movie theater that was premiering her film. But the whole time I kept wondering how I could impress her with my witty repartee. The time passed with neither of us saying a word. I lost my chance to talk to someone who has actually stood onstage and said "I'd like to thank the Academy..." A few years later I would meet Thelma and Louise screenwriter Callie Khouri who also won an Oscar. I managed to hold a semi-intelligent conversation about brains and what a pain it is to read scripts.

"I'm gonna be on television, Harry!"

As amazing as Callie Khouri is though, she's not an actress or a recognizable mainstream icon (tragic, I know). So she didn't mind gabbing with a nobody like me. But real celebrities, the kind you get excited about encountering because people will actually know who they are, are a mystery to me. They are used to people gawking and taking pictures (like when me and my aunt saw Sean Astin/Samwise Gamgee/Rudy at Disneyland). They probably have people fawning over them, telling them how much they love their work. Maybe people are even ballsy enough to ask them for a hookup of some sort. It's also weird to talk with one of your idols when you know everything about them so you ask questions you already know the answers to.

Wifebeater was the best I could do.

His shirtless photos all feature Nazi tattoos. Eff that.

My question is, how do you actually start a conversation with someone famous, without bothering them? I know they like their privacy, but I hate that I keep letting these chances go by. You never know when you could run into Edward Norton in an elevator and next thing you know, you're best friends and he's setting you up with choice jobs, VIP seats at awards shows, and riding around in limos to glamorous after-parties. It could happen... So I'm going to take a primitive poll here. You meet a celebrity somehow. In the bathroom, at a bar, whatever. Do you:

A. Play it cool, pretend not to notice, while subtly getting your friend's attention.

B. Drop your jaw and let flies get in, but don't actually say anything while they stare at you weirdly.

C. Wave and shout, trying to take a picture with your cell phone while they run away screaming.

D. Have the perfect opening line which is "________"

Sawyer

I apologize for the multiple posts in a row kick I seem to be on, but I'm trying to make up for 6 months of silence. And if you know me at all, you know that I do not do silence well.

When I moved to LA, I thought I would see famous people everywhere I looked. In reality, I rarely see celebrities, though recently sightings have picked up. I saw John Francis Daley (Bones/Freaks and Geeks/Waiting) for the second time at the Burbank movie theater, Rosario Dawson at the Venice boardwalk, and David Krumholtz walking in front of me on the sidewalk in Westwood. Those I'm pretty sure about. However, I often think I see famous people, when they turn out to be not who I thought they were. Which makes gawking at them even more awkward.

Case in point, I was driving home from work the other day when I could have sworn I saw Sawyer/Josh Holloway from Lost driving a silver Porsche down Wilshire. How did I know it was him? I identified his sideburn. When I drove closer I realized that in fact it was not a hulking, blonde Southern television star, but a scrawny 24ish Persian guy who, according to his license plate frame, is a USC law student. Ok, that one was a bit off. But one of these days, I'm going to meet someone really famous, and it will actually be them. Instead of whatever the opposite of a doppelganger is.

Celebrity Divorce

I was very saddened today to hear that Kate Winslet and her husband Sam Mendes are getting a divorce. It's certainly never a surprise when celebrity marriages break-up, but in this case, I really feel bad for them. Kate Winslet is one of my favorite actresses, so talented, beautiful, and classy. And Sam Mendes is one of my favorite directors, very astute and interesting. They've been together for seven years, which is a lifetime in Hollywood. Now they're going their separate ways. I know that it in no way affects me, nor is it important to anyone besides themselves. Still though, when you see a marriage fail that you really thought would succeed, it tends to make you believe in the whole institution even less.

Ok, enough stalling by pontificating about more interesting peoples' lives. I have to focus on reading these scripts, but finding it difficult with all the ghetto noise (loud neighbor's music, car alarms, police sirens, ice cream trucks, "Tamales Tamales" guy, helicopters, booming sub-woofers of passing cars playing Michael Jackson). It's a wonder I get anything done at all.

How to sneak into Fox Studios

1. Know someone who works there (even if it's just temporary).

2. Have them get you a visitor pass. Ok, so it's not sneaking in technically.

3. Be seen eating lunch with them/walking around.

4. Make sure you look fabulous in pointy shoes and sunglasses (so they can't see your shifty eyes).

5. Start walking. But when you walk, walk fast and make it look like you know where you're going.

6. Don't ever pull out your map or look at the posted signs.

7. Don't dawdle, or look too interested in any one thing.

8. Pretend to be an extra and cross the fake New York street when they shout "Background Action!"

9. Don't freak out when you see someone famous (in my case, I only saw John Francis Daley of Bones, which they were filming, Freaks and Geeks, and Waiting). Ain't no big thang.

10. Don't get in anyone's way, introduce yourself to anyone, hit anyone up for a job no matter how much you want to.

11. Resist the urge to Maeby Funke your way into an executive position.

12. If you need a minute, pretend to text someone on your phone, but don't actually call someone.

13. Leave, still acting like you own the place. Even if you can't find your car in the parking garage for a good ten minutes.

14. Stay cool at all times even though you really are freaking out inside. EEEEEEEEEKKKK!

That was by far one of the coolest things I have ever done! I can't believe no one even questioned why I was walking around (looking like I had someplace to go). I had several cover stories ready just in case I got stopped by a security guard. I was Joss Whedon's niece. I got lost on the way to casting. I was a background player. I was visiting a friend. Anyway, it was magical. It felt like a college campus, only with nicer cars and rich people eating lunch in fake New York. The highlight, besides watching Bones being filmed and seeing the adorable John Francis Daley, was spotting Joss Whedon's parking place. His car wasn't there, but still. If it was, that's where it would be. Triiippy.

Fox-y Ladies

Today I am going to "do lunch" at Fox. As in 20th Century Fox. I've always hated the phrase "do lunch," but right now I am completely embracing any and all Hollywood phoniness. And I'm suuuper excited in a completely lame, star-struck way. A friend of mine is temping there in the casting department and has already seen quite a few celebrities meandering through the halls. (One well-known TV star even asked my friend where she could breast pump, ka-razy!).

I'm hoping that after our sophisticated and glamorous lunch, I'll be able to wander around the lot, dodging security guards behind bungalows and fake New York brownstones. I'm not going to lie. A little part of me is hoping that once I'm actually there in the Promised Land (ie a genuine film studio), a big producer or even actor will approach me and either offer me a fabulous job, and/or perhaps their hand in marriage. I'll probably turn down any marriage offers I receive today, but you bet your ass I'm going to jump at the chance to work for Fox.

Clearly I'm aware that I'll be lucky if I even catch a glimpse of someone marginally famous, much less someone who is ready to hand me my dream on a silver platter. Still, it's nice to know that it's not completely and utterly inconceivable. Hey, it's more likely to happen on the Fox lot than if I were to stick to my normal routine of lounging in bed in my PJs, watching silly sitcoms on the computer.