Night of the Living Spatula

Today is my oldest niece's 6th birthday. It makes me feel really old to remember a time when this person didn't exist and now they are practically a teenager (kids today grow up so much faster than we did). Naturally I got all nostalgic about the night Miss Ally Paige was born...(insert clip of Wayne and Garth wiggling their fingers diddly doo diddly doo diddly doo as the screen dissolves into black and white).

APRIL 13, 2005

The reason I was not present for the birth of my brother Scott's firstborn was because I was goofing off with the rest of the advanced placement English students in Ashland, Oregon. We were all at the Shakespeare Festival, a kickass celebration of the Bard and adolescent tomfoolery. The APES to Ashland trip was on occasion notorious for normally well-behaved honors students to get footloose and fancy free, Oregon-style. And after studying our fannies off the whole year for the AP test, it was time to rock out with our codpieces out. Of course the year we were finally old enough to go, the administration (read: The Man) decided to get tough about kids sneaking booze, pot, and other various paraphernalia of debauchery (how do you like them SAT words?). Anyone caught during the random suitcase searches would be sent home immediately and worse. Well, crap. I guess we'd just have to enjoy the quaint Ashland scenery and Elizabethan theatre (note the 're' spelling).

Ashland Shakespeare Festival

Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of Shakespeare. But I was looking forward to some crazy "what happens in Ashland, stays in Ashland" stories. Especially since I had never done anything wild in my life. (Unless you count buying condoms and chocolate pudding from Raley's the year before as a gag gift). Nevertheless, my friends and I were having a great time crammed into a tiny hotel room with a buffet of delicious treats (I recall cheez-its, mini muffins, and gummy bears specifically). Things did get a little wacky when we were all simultaneously locked out of our rooms and had an impromptu hall party that was promptly squashed. Then my friend somehow made our toilet explode into a beautiful fountain and we had to have maintenance come save us from the rushing tide of toilet water. We rewarded them with mini-muffins.

Forever Plaid

That night we all got ready for our non-Shakespeare night. We got to see Forever Plaid at a cabaret type theater, which was quite the treat. It was kind of a broadway meets barbershop quartet show that was just delightful. During the intermission I checked my voicemail and discovered that my sister-in-law, Nay, had gone into labor earlier that day! I could barely concentrate during the second half knowing that I was about to become an aunt for the first time! As we piled back onto the bus after the show, I announced to all that I was officially an aunt at the tender age of seventeen. My fellow students didn't seem as excited for me, but I was walking on air! Though I was a little pissed that I missed the birth itself. Miss Ally, impatient as ever, decided she couldn't wait to terrorize the world until her Aunt Pooe (long story) could get to the hospital. Silly girl.

When we got back to the hotel, a bunch of us had gathered in our hotel room to hang out, watch TV, plunder our junk food buffet, and do whatever it is teenagers abroad do. It wasn't enough for me though. We had to celebrate the occasion by doing something crazy! They had already taken away the booze we would never have had the guts to bring anyway, so a toast was out of the question. We were high enough on sugar, like cracked out little squirrels. Looking for some way to act out against the Man's oppression, we decided to go on a quest for porn. Don't ask me how we came to that conclusion. None of us had seen any before, and felt this was a rite of passage we had missed. The only place we could think to find some was the Albertson's across the street. Surely they had some sort of dirty magazine we could giggle and shriek over.

So about eight of us snuck out into the hall when Mr. Duda caught us red-handed. "Where are you guys going?" He demanded. Me, "We have to make a quick Albertson's trip." (Which was true.) "What could you possibly need from Albertson's at this time of night?" (It was like 10pm). Me, not missing a beat, "It's personal." To which Mr. Duda got really flustered and most likely assumed I meant feminine hygiene products. "Oh, well you can take one person with you, but be quick about it." So I took Kirsten, the only one of us who was 18 and could legally purchase pornography. We headed across the street to Albertson's, barely avoiding getting hit by cars.

After looking around the store for a good 20 minutes, we discovered that grocery stores in Ashland do not carry porn. What a shame. But the porn wasn't the point. It was the epic and dangerous quest, fraught with peril in the form of grumpy old English teachers and speeding vehicles. We couldn't go back empty-handed. So we scoured the store for something to bring back as proof that we had made it. Then we came across the kitchenware aisle. The plastic spatulas seem to have a heavenly light about them. Of course! Spatulas! Spatulas are just as good as porn! So we bought two of them (and some batteries for my camera) and ran back across the treacherous street, laughing hysterically all the way.

A Spatula.

We walked back into the hotel room, the spatulas behind our backs. TA DA!! We revealed our loot, and the group seemed a little confused. But being just as hopped up on sugar as we were, they suddenly burst into peals of laughter too. We had a mock swordfight with our kitchen utensils and collapsed on the floor.

When I finally got back into town and was able to visit Miss Ally Paige in the hospital, my brother Nick and I bought her a yellow duck we named Spatula with a promise to explain the story one day when she was older.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALLY!!

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.