Doin' the Kitchen Redo - Oh vo-de-o-do!

Last month John said, "I think it's time to remodel the kitchen. I'm thinking new counter tops and cabinet doors."
 
Well, that sounded simple enough.
 
He called a few contractors and got bids. We fell in love with Jenny Housey of Golan Remodeling: a Sabra. Soft-spoken, but easy to picture with an Uzi if circumstances warranted. 
Fortunately, she was on our side all the way.

Everything in the kitchen had to go somewhere else. In our house, the only somewhere else is the living room or the bedroom and the bedroom is full of bed.

The next thing I knew, the rest of the kitchen went oopsdefloop

out the garage door into a dumpster. Not as easy as it sounds.

A temp kitchen materialized on the dining room table.

Fine for cooking.

Washing up? 
Where else?

Miss Puss, who considers the bath her private domain, was not amused.
"Much safer up here."

Custom-built cabinets arrive 

and are installed apace.

The new stove stands by in the garage.

Once it's installed, John is a very happy camper.

So much for "just new counter tops and cabinet doors." Hell, it's his kitchen. He did all the negotiating and contracting.

I did hold out for a broom closet where the old hot heater was. 
We got one of those eco-friendly on-demand units. Takes a little longer to get hot water at the kitchen sink, but I'm getting used to washing up with cold water. At the new sink, washing up with anything is a joy.

The overseer makes a final inspection...

...and approves. 

The scissors are just a play for sympathy.

Josh Alan Friedman

There's so much to Josh Alan Friedman, I don't know where to start.

Musican, composer, raconteur: I groveled before his quiet, unassuming, personage at a book signing/reading fest organized by the ever-resourceful Wyat Doyle last year. 

I was so overwhelmed by Mr. Friedman's MUSIC, I almost forgot to get him to sign my copy of Black Cracker - almost. I've read that book three times. Not because it's hard to understand. Au contraire. Because it's just that damn entertaining, even while it's provoking hell out of one's thoughts.

When Wyat emailed me that Josh was going to be in town this week, I started trying to find a way to make it to one of the only two (alas) appearances he will make. Much depends on what state our house is in by then. Oh yes. We are in the throes of FINALLY getting John's kitchen built. I promised him the sales of The Devil Made Me Do It were gonna pay for a new kitchen for him who loves to cook and is so very good at it. 

Well, it's taken a few years, but we're finally getting it done!

It's been such fun camping out in the living room 

with our makeshift kitchen in the dining room. We've blown the circuit breaker four times, so far. But, we haven't missed a meal.

The newest member of the household, Miss Puss, is less than enthusiastic about the whole thing.


Do go hear Josh. He's amazing.

ALERT THE MEDIA

My far-better-half, John, is taking me out for dinner and A SHOW this coming Sunday evening, May 15th at the Studio Grill in Gower Gultch, southwest corner of Sunset and Gower in Hollywood. Email cabaretidol@yahoo.com for reservations.



 

We're going to see our friend, Miriam Birch, who dazzeled us with her winning performances at the Cabaret Contest shows held at this same great venue last year. 

Now they've brought her back to do a show of her very own. Well, her side-kick, Raf Mauro, who happenes to be John's cousin 
(which has nothing to do with his talent) will do a number or two, he says, if we insist. We'll insist.

It's best to get there at 6, when the doors open, if you want to have dinner first. This place is famous for it's great seafood. They serve a boss burger as well, though. Me? I'll prob'ly do the fish tacos as usual.

More great news!
My first "leading man" from those gory glory days - Harry Reems - got in touch! 

Much more than a leading man, it was he who
introduced me to Jerry Damiano, director of the ever-popular Devil in Miss Jones. 

I wish someone would publish Harry's story. I think he remembers all the stuff I've forgotten. Well, he's much younger than I.

Here just some of the good stuff about him that's "out there."

Harry Reems  
filmography
biography
and a wonderful article in the e-zine New York Movies.





 

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.