The Lusty Month of May

"Tra la. It's here. That shocking time of year. When tons of wicked little thoughts merrily appear."

Yes, It's official. From Seders to Sunrise Services to the idiocy of "Daylight Savings" (where? in a jar?) to the inarguable tilt of the planet and the Whickershim wirlings of the wild Wiccan waifs: 

IT'S SPRING. 

The absolute proof is here at the annual egg decorating baccanal chez Scott/Nakamura. 

Nobody throws an egg-fest like these ritcheous elves. 

Here is John working on a creation. 

And some of the finished product.

Our homage to the extended hours of sunshine - expansion of the deck not densely shaded to accommodate a lounger. 

 

I know. Sunshine is no friend to the skin, but I can't resist the lure of a wee bask now and then. No more than twenty minutes at a time - tops - I promise.
Poor Miss Puss is gonna miss her dirt baths when it's finished. Who
knew dirt could be so enticing? 

Our neighbors with the pool stopped by to tell us a new tenant has moved in. Tommy Flanagan. No shit. We haven't seen nor heard any sign of a motorcycle - yet. 

House owner and friend, Sean, said Mr. Flanagan said we were still welcome to use the pool, but I'd be way too shy to just go over and introduce myself. Maybe if we meet one day in the drive way, I'll mention it. Or maybe I'll just climb over the fence and fall in accidentally.

Did Debbie Does Dad

Me with BFFL Richard Pacheco

Not dark of night, nor hail, nor gale, nor even raging sciatica was gonna keep me from seeing the scion of my BBFL Richard Pacheco's son, Bobby, in his one-man tour-de-force, Debbie Does My Dad. 

Howie "sizing up?" his scion, Bobby.

Me with another BBFL, Penny Antine

Here's what I emailed my pal, Penny Antine when she asked me how the show went.

"You missed an AMAZING piece of theater and a look at a talent that, if there's a god at all, is gonna be BIG - in any arena he chooses. Of course, the biz of show does not always reward ability and talent, but it sure helps if you have it.

Bobby was PHENOMENAL. Howie, his ladywife, Jeremy and Bobby's two sisters were all popping their vest buttons, as well they should.

I am so glad I got to see this at this time. I know it's got, as we say in the biz, LEGS, and the next venue may not be as convenient or affordable. Yeah, the Pantages is convenient to our Hollywood Hills home, but the prices!!!

Hey, I've been trying all day to think of what to say on my blog about last evening. I think I'll just copy this email.

And so I have.

The Burbank Marriott Celebrity Show

True to his word, NY based radio host and horror film maven, Matt Beckoff, knocked me up (in the British sense, i.e., stopped by) at 8:30am Sat. April 2nd, 2011 and ferried me to the Burbank Marriott Celebrity Show. We made it a more comfortable 9:30 the next morning. I filled that extra hour Sunday pulling weeds in the front yard. Big mistake. After a week of daily physical therapy at the spa, I can again face the monitor and get this blog post up.

Yeah, yeah. I  said never again and I meant it. Still do. But then I found out I would be seated at the Police Academy table. And though I am only represented as a leg on the original promo art, that leg grew legs, as we say in "the biz." That is, much good has come of that brief and limited exposure, not the least of which were the residuals that kept me on the SAG health plan. Thank you Paul Masslansky.  As I say in the epilogue of my book, "...may your tribe increase."

The Police Academy contingent 

welcomed me with open arms, even though I was only briefly in the original and PA III.
Alas, my secret love, George Gaynes couldn't make it after all. 'Twas put about that he had the flu. At 91, I suspect he may have had a touch of my major malady, the fuggits. Naaaah. Not the mighty Comander Eric Lassard.

Donovan Scott and my far-better-half, John, are old improvisation  buddies, so I felt completely comfortable with him when we did our "hot" scene in the first Police Academy film. But, in truth, around the rest of the company I felt like an impostor. "What business had I on a set with these pros? I was a porn actress for pity sakes." My perception, entirely. But, I was so flummoxed by it all, that when Bubba Smith asked me if I'd like to join him for dinner, I stammered something about not eating dinner the night before a shoot or some such tripe. I was terrified that he'd think I was "open for business." If I'd known anything about him, or had taken the time to get to know him at all, I would have realized how really stupid that was. I do now. And I am soooo glad I got a chance at this gathering of "the old guard" to apologize to him for my seeming brush-off. I even got to sit next to him at lunch on Sunday - be still my heart!

I wasn't that much more comfortable in my skin when my lucky star passed overhead again and I was called back to appear in Police Academy III, Back in Training.

When the formidable (yet utterly charming out of uniform) Leslie Esterbrook invited me to have lunch with her, I didn't do a paranoid freakout and pull up a lame excuse. No, I jumped at the opportunity. She made me feel totally accepted. She was equally outgoing and charming at this signing thingy all these years later, and, again, made me feel like I was one of the club. What a gal!
 
AND, speaking of great gals, eternally effervescent Marion Ramsey was there, as ebullient, adorable and funny as ever.
 

Scott Thomson , my "leading man" in a "racy" scene in PA III,  was at the table to my right. John's and my pal, Donovan Scott, was to my left. Surrounded by Scotts my two "love interests" in the PA films, I felt positively blessed. And quite at home. I had a really, really good time. I really did. Really. I did.

So yeah, after the weed-pulling, leaning over a table to hear what folks were saying and to sign stuff like this poster for new friend Mike Mosley I was in dire need of the daily self-administered physical therapy I refer to as my workout.

OH, and I got to meet and greet Todd Fulkerson and his Mom Paula. Todd it was who contacted me in the first place to ask if I would be there, as he had pictures he'd like for me to sign. Thank you Todd, for making me make it.

What's going on?

Was unable to post the blog I spent several hours preparing. I am trying this simple sentence to see if it will "fly." If so, I'll go back and try to find out what I'm doing wrong on the full post.

Doing Debbie Does Daddy

John and I are taking our pals Lanny and Jerry to see this Friday night April 8th at Highways in Santa Monica.
(Sorry for the old date on the flier.)
Here's a review:
"In Debbie Does My Dad performance artist Bobby Gordon uses spoken
word theater to tell the bawdy and beautiful story of his experiences growing up as the son of a former adult film star.

Gordon’s father, Howie Gordon (Stage Name Richard Pacheco) won Playgirl
Man-of-the-Year Honors in 1979 and had a Hall of Fame X-Rated acting career appearing in over a 100 features.

    Having spent his childhood “in the shadow of his dad’s erection” Bobby Gordon dives into his experiences dealing with overly excited friends, meeting (or really failing to meet) unreasonably high expectations from female classmates in school, his own sexual development, confronting and rebelling against his father, and ultimately working to redefine manhood for himself.
       Nothing is what you’d expect in this show where the words “sensitive” and “male porn star” go together as easily as “masturbation” and “inevitably getting walked in on by your parents.” Gordon offers an intimate window into his journey to come to grips his father’s former career, and create a world where a man can be an emotional and a sexual being; a world where fucking and feelings can co-exist.

    "Bobby Gordon plunges into the creative rhythms, images and sounds of spoken word poetry with courage, honesty and sensual delight to talk about sex, porn and fathering. This is a must see show." – Warren Nebe, Director of Drama For Life
More info and ticket availability.

Howie and his lovely ladywife have become good friends over the years. I am really looking forward to seeing what Bobby has in store for us.

I'll post a post mortem on the Hollywood Celebrity Show that I attended last weekend in a few days. As expected, leaning over a table to sign pictures and posters and lord-only-knows-what-all for two days, has landed me in backache hell. This too shall pass.