I SAW TIM MEADOWS!!!

My friend Libby and I saw Tim Meadows today!! In real life. Standing on the street corner, waiting to cross. He was looking out into the world. I looked at him as I look at most people standing on street corners with me, and I thought, Hey, I like that guy's leather jacket, and that's an awesome Chicago flag patch on his shoulder. Then it hit me. I turned to Libby.

"Hey, is that Tim Meadows? I think that's Tim Meadows."

And he looked over as one usually does when hearing their name called out multiple times, and I star-struckingly stuttered, "I've always admired your work, Mr. Meadows. You're a really talented guy. Thank you." (I think that's what I said. I remember "admire," "talented," and I probably said "thank you." Because I believe all of those things; I think the guy's a great comedian and I grew up on SNL.) To which he replied with gratitude and a smile.

It completely made my day; made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, which made me immediately start sweating. And then I told a guy at the bus stop across the street, "Hey, Tim Meadows is over there." To which he replied, "You don't say?" I do, sir. I do.

While sitting at Sultan's Market over a falafel, I confessed to Libby how I wished I would've thought to talk to Tim in my incredibly awesome Ladies' Man voice. She said it was probably for the best that I hadn't.

He's looking good(!), in case you were wondering. Hints of gray sprinkled in his scruff, but that stuff's normal when you're 50, I guess.

Where he is now, or was a year or so ago.

The Guy Who Played Mr. Belvedere's Fan Club -- totally not good as a clip, but I couldn't find a full one.

10-24-11

To put my thoughts into the words of someone else.


Purposely he walked. Without a plan he lived. Mimicking others seen. He thought, if only I could do like they do. He dreamed of living the only dream worth dreaming: recognition. Sometimes he convinced himself he was already dead. Scarce interactions, or none. No one any longer called him son, and so he wandered wondering why.

As he walked he passed a black man in a white suit, flawless, long white coat, and a white heart painted on the back of each hand. Curtis immediately envisioned him with a hat and a cane to match the white loafers - everything - as he passed.

“Life is blessed. Love is blind.” Directed at no one in particular, though they were the only two on the street.

“Excuse me, sir. Why are you dressed this way?”

“What way? This is my way. I wear this everyday.”

“Where are you going?”

The man in hearts kept walking and turned into the park. “My way. I walked this route everyday.”

“Why the white?”

“You sayin’ it ain’t right?” But it wasn’t a question, and he kept on walking. Curtis followed.

“Am I alive? Because sometimes I feel like I’m dying side. It doesn’t hurt, but everything is fading. My organs grow numb. Sometimes when I want to snap I can’t find my thumb. There are days where I speed up the process by drinking and smoking and fighting with unfriendly types, but I keep coming back. I don’t know what to do, mister, sometimes living doesn’t seem worth what they say.”

Hearts on hand, the man continued on.

“Excuse me. Do you have the answer?”

“It depends on the question and the quantity.”

“Oh, I see.”

“I thought the problem was that you didn’t. Your life is worth whatever sum you make it, and there are people out there who will take it if you let them. A life is a blink in the history of the world. It doesn’t matter much regardless of your presence in it, life will bowl over you after you’re dead. But now, here you are, and here I am. If you ever need any help, I’m your man. Just look for the hearts in the near east of the park.”

And with that the man walked into a thick set of bushes.

As dusk was beginning to settle, Curtis felt uneasy and back on his path to nowhere, even more confused to it this life he seemed to be living was even real. Befuddled he turned on his heel and retreated to the sounds of cars busying themselves into night.

Squash Every Week into a Day

Life's moving fast. And in which direction we're going, I'm not really sure.

I was fired from my restaurant job on Monday. Fired. That's never happened before, and let me just say, it kind of sucks. More a lot than not. Yeah, I brought it up, but I'd rather not go into details... more like, I can't go into details because not being put on this week's schedule was the first sign I got, so I sent an email (because it was too late to call), and the next day a call from a manager came letting me know that they were "no longer in need of my service" regrettably, so they said. When asked why, all I was told was that I didn't live up to expectations. No one ever asked me to do anything differently. How do you improve when you don't know what to improve? That was frustrating. Is frustrating. There's a first time for everything, so they say.

Everything happens for a reason,
When one door closes another door opens.

At least I only cry when I'm alone have trivia... yeah, I'm a two-night a week trivia host. That's not going to pay the bills, though. And so I've been applying/interviewing for jobs like mad. Scheming and dreaming and thinking up new things. I'm not giving up on 'merica. I made the plan to stay here at least a year, and by jove! I'm going to make something of myself while I'm here! Ideally that would encompass teaching and writing. There's a part of me that doesn't feel right teaching in another country because education builds the foundation of a country's success, and we all know that America needs success right now.

There are no rainbows without the rain.
Day by day.
Baby steps.
Breathe.

These are things I tell myself when I think of the position that I'm currently in and I feel the panic begin to rise in my chest. Or, as my late and [am told] great Great Grandpa Fonce said: From the time that you're born, 'til you ride in a hearse, there's nothing so bad that it couldn't be worse.

If there's one thing my family's taught me, it's resiliency, and I will pick myself up from the fall, brush off the dirt and walk on. Repeating as necessary when life knocks me down.

MUSIC!

I'm  helping my friend, Sammy Joe on his music blog: http://thesongstack.com/ WHEEEEEEEEEEE!!! Check us out!

Now that I have mastered the whole HTML posting I must pack for friends are getting married in St. Louis this weekend!!!

Perks of the Job

Mark Twain: a true cat lover. (insider info from Cat Fancy's Jan '12 issue. MARK YOUR CALENDARS!!)

It's not all bad. Sure, after taxes I make less than Canadian minimum wage... probably before taxes, too, but the calendar information I enter will provide me with stories long after I've made my nest under the nearest bridge.

I say good-bye to this corporate temp gig tomorrow and move back into the restaurant industry FTish. Oh, the job applications and interviews of the past that I shake my head at, and the ones in the future which I'm trying to remain hopeful for, but am skeptical about with the amount of scams on Clist. I won't start on that.

Basically I just wanted to share the Mark Twain business, and then I felt it necessary to provide some context. Until later, interneters.

the ole switcheroo

There were a few mornings where I poured orange juice over my Corn Flakes or Fruity Pebbles thinking that would combat my continuously grumbling stomach. “I must be lactose intolerant.” As if three days of no dairy would be an instant cure-all. Unfortunately, dysentery by water supply wasn’t that easily cured.

That damn island; I loved it, but apparently it didn’t feel the same about me.

9/3/10

"Today was all relax, though I wish I could transport everyone I've ever met and loved in my life to this place with me, and we would all swim and spin in the sea laughing for all the happiness in the world."
--Boracay, PI
__________________________________________________________

SCUBA certification with Team Lone Rangers and Big Blue Diving in Koh Tao, Thailand on September 22, 2010.

Bus in PI going to Taal from Manila, when Lizzikins was still with me.

Recently I've been thinking a lot about my travels. Dreaming of the days spent wandering in wonder, and I'm in love and I'm lost. I can't help it; September's the month of change, new beginnings, and I feel like I'm back at square one. I'm thinking a lot about where I've been: "this time two years ago I was living in Korea" and "I was in Thailand, living out of a backpack and sleeping on bouncier than you would believe buses this time last year." Right now I can't see where I'm going and that's feels more scary than exciting now that I'm back home.

But that fear of the here and now and seemingly desperate times is something else that's not for now or here, and so we move on: I just started re-reading my travelogue which feels like kind of a big deal - probably because I built it up as such. I have a slight inkling as to why it's taken me almost a year to re-crack the bronze-wood journal's binding. At first I thought it was because I didn't want to have to come to the realization that my travels were over, and I suppose that is a part of it, but the main reason I discovered was fear that my words wouldn't hold a candle to the truth, thus sparking no memories and completely void of inspiration. In truth, I hope that my fragmented thoughts spin themselves into stories with my prodding.

To end with the words of a man I dubbed "Jacksonville" on flight KE621 from Incheon, KR to Manila, PI who sat next to me and spoke about the book full of  25 potential wives to the woman who was returning home after 30 long years (GOLDMINES ALREADY!!! Skeletons that I must flesh out.): if you are confident, you will be a success.

My Oh My: Chiang Mai!!

I knew it was going to be a good trip when I boarded the sleeper car in Bangkok. After purchasing a few beers and a "dinner snack" of this mysterious pizza bread from the station convenient store, I stepped out into the smoky platform area...

(I started this around this time last year, and then I was probably distracted by something more exciting going on outside the internet cafe... Story to continue some time.)

there is no perfection, only life

en route to the Dalai Lama's Residence in Dharamsala (Upper McLeod Ganj), India

I have a strong desire to re-read Milan Kundera's "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" for a number of reasons:

In recently moving (this weekend) I re-acquired a heavy burden of old possessions from a friend's storage space, this is great in that I now have books and DVDs and furniture and clothes, but it all felt very heavy when I had the truck loaded (maybe it was just my muscles) and I found myself slouching into the self I was two years ago, though things do not hold possession over you if you do not let them, it was still a strange sensation. Needless to say, I look forward to the Great Release, during which I will slowly rid my life of its physical clutter and unnecessities, and lighten the load on my soul; starting fresh in a new place, in my old city full of memories from moments past.

Also, a girl I know just moved to the Czech Republic.

And it is a book which I currently do not hold in my possession as I left it in MO, at my mom and step dad's house. Therefore, I want it because I do not have it. Which I know is missing the whole point.

"The goals we pursue are always veiled. A girl who longs for marriage longs for something she knows nothing about. The boy who hankers after fame has no idea what fame is. The thing that gives our every move its meaning is always totally unknown to us."  --MK

From Posters to Frames...

The posters to frames thing is weird, and one adjustment that I'm not altogether ready for, maybe more so financially than willingly. At first it was strange to see all my friends older because that must mean that I'm older, too. And, yes. I am. 

I turned 24 two months before I left America. I arrived back in Chicago days after turning 26. In the time between these dates my friends have upgraded from posters to frames, weekend boyfriends and girlfriends to live-in ones, or husbands and wives. I think maybe that was one of the most shocking things of all to return to: seeing all the changes my friends made face-to-face after hearing about them for so long. People moved, lost jobs, got jobs, had babies, or fell off my radar screen; such is life.

After a month and a half of worrying that I made the right decision in coming back to Chicago, I'm finally feeling good about my decision. I'm employed (albeit temporarily), moving into a new apartment soon and riding my bike all over the place (though I have a bad feeling that it won't hold out on me much longer). I'm happy here, even though good ole fashioned nature is at least an hour car/train/bus ride away... And I just signed a lease, so I'm staying put for at least a year, though after that... who knows.

Unfortunately with employment comes a weekday exhaustion that I'm still getting used to on top of my 21+ mile round-trip commute to/from work, and I'm spending more time thinking about writing than I'm actually writing, though my friends and I are in the beginning stages of putting together a creative team of folks who want to write and create sketches for a YouTube video channel. Things are in progress, slowly but surely.

I just wanted to drop a line about what I'm doing to those who I haven't been so great about keeping in touch with. I hope you're happy and healthy, and that we talk soon.

Feel good time (with NPR's "All Songs Considered").

peace and love,
Kate

FACT:

Working in an office is decidedly less fun than visits to my dad's office as a child.

But boy does it feel good to be employed! I wrote the above during my first week, if not first day, of employment (back at the beginning of August - where is the time flying off to?).

More and more I'm thinking that I might want to go into the education field... we'll see. I want to do a lot of things, and right now I seem to be just checking the scene.

Trickle. Trickle. SHEETS!!

It's been raining a lot in Northwest Missouri recently. It didn't rain last night, but it rained the night before that. And maybe even the night before that, but I was asleep in Kansas City, so I'm not really sure.

And not just rain. It's been thunderstorming, which is apparently not one word, but because I want it to be I am not going to insert the "appropriate" spacing.

But oh, the thunderstorms are so lovely. I haven't experienced one of those in a long time. The smell of the earth and lava rocks moistening. The sound of the grass growing. Splish. Splash. I can bathe outside. But then the lightning strikes, and I'm forced inside to peer through the blinds as the flashes of white dance across the sky to nature's crashing cymbals.

The other night it sounded like legions of leprechauns were throwing rocks at my windows. It was hail. HAIL!! I haven't seen snow in over 14 months!! I felt like I was at the beginning of Garcia Marquez's 100 Years of Solitude! Cold to the touch. I wanted to gather a handful and put it in a glass of water to give someone (I prefer room temperature; I have sensitive teeth), but everyone was asleep. Sheets of rain and driving winds woke me up at 4am. It was either that, or my bladder. I stared into the darkness in between the flashes of light, watching the blinds clang angrily against the window. Worried. The window was open because I like falling asleep to the sound of nature, but in waking up in the middle of the night I convinced myself that it was an early warning system of sorts. I wanted to be able to the hear sound of an approaching misplaced train - or tornado - over the thunder. First alert to holler to the family and run down into the cellar. Or basement, Dorothy.

Is that a green sky, or metallic blue? Pewter. Ochre. (That wouldn't be right. But at 4am when I wrote it, it made perfect sense, and the sailor's say to 'take warning' in the event of a red sky at night... oh wait, it's morning...) A flash of lightning simultaneously coupled with a crash of thunder, indicating the storm was directly overhead. I moved away from the window and back to my bed. As I drifted back into a fitful sleep I imagined downed trees and power lines, crushed roofs, and ruined dreams upon waking in the morning.

The sun shone slanted through the blinds the next morning as my mom's dog, Ditka (a Foxoodle - Fox Terrier/Toy Poodle mix) licked my face awake.

(Do yourself the favor and imagine the following story as if it were a Robert Stack "Unsolved Mysteries" narrative.)

Did you know: Lightning can go inside houses. It doesn't even have to knock or be invited in, unlike the Land Shark or vampires, respectively. Well, a door or a window has to be open, so maybe the thunder knocks and the next lightning comes in. My mom said it happened to her once when she was a small child in Lincoln, Nebraska. The front door and back door were both open as to allow for circulation, she and her siblings were playing a board game in the living room and her mother and father were on the couch, when BLAMO!! lightning cut straight through her house. My mom remembered being scared, and said that her mom ran to shut the doors and was very hesitant to have open doors in storms ever after that.

Something Else

That's how I would describe Los Angeles. It was something else; definitely not what I had made up in my mind's eye. Oh yeah, it was fun. A real good time. I was so happy to see friends I haven't since August 2009 to farther back in time.

PROs: overheard conversations (I love you, loud Americans! You're so inspiring!), hiking in the hills, murals and graffiti, celebrities as normal people, ocean, pho, the buses, Richard Simmons, LACMA, trees and houses, that my friends live there

CONs: all the cars and lack of public transportation, that my friends live there




My plane landed on Monday, May 30th at 4:40a.
My amazing, awesome, fantastic, Chicago concert companion, mind boggling buddy, Ty, came to pick me up at LAX. We dropped off my luggage at his apartment and went for omelets and coffee, and stories at some real American diner.

Everybody in LA wears hats. This is not an overstatement.

I was in a daze as Ty drove me from the airport to his place, passing through the neighborhoods - we opted for the "scenic" route instead of the freeways - full of houses and trees. (For some reason I thought everyone in LA lived in mansions or cardboard boxes, and that it was full of streets, highways and byways. Some childhood fantasy that was only recently dispelled, along with Madonna being in every limo and all my friends being only children orphans until I met their parents, shocked and confused that said friends didn't actually live in train cars with wealthy grandfathers bringing them meals and letting them play in gardens and solve mysteries in their spare time - which, let's face it, all time was spare time in childhood.)

The day was jam-packed full of LA/America overload, but in the best way. My eyes zig-zagged across the scenery as if watching things fly by from a train window.

I was actually in a daze for most of my first week in LA. Maybe it had something to do with the smog, but there really didn't seem to be any. Stereotypes!!! Shattered! It was cold though. So cold. After living in the 80s for the past year, essentially, 60 degrees with the sun shining was a major shock. Unpleasant, LA.

We went to Target. TARGET!! That beautiful store. I got toiletries and a trac phone. Then we drank bloody marys (Ty should win an award) and my friend, Katie came over.

After laughing and catching up for a glass, we headed out to Griffith Park and hiked all over those hills.

There was one point we came to - under Ty's beckoning - that seemed to be a sheer vertical climb, with a family to the left of us using a system of jump ropes tied together to pull each other up. Katie and I looked at each other nervously and scrambled up after Ty who had scaled the face in a matter of seconds, and stood at the top, looking at us with his hands on his hips. Tapping his foot, too, I'm sure.

That evening there was grilled fish and veggie kabobs (I'm currently not eating animals of the walking or flying variety. Someday I might stop eating those swimming ones too, whether out of consciousness or the fact that there aren't any more, I'm not sure yet.) and confusion in my exhaustion of the longest day ever: jerking asleep on the couch, I wondered aloud what time it was. Eight fourteen. But the sun was still up!!! Ty was confused. I was confused! In Guam it set at or around 6:30 every day, being only 14 degrees north of the equator and all. Summertime in the middle of the northern hemisphere, days last forever, it's like the opposite of Siberia in the wintertime.

Everything LA: Part I

A meeting of strangers, adversaries... future friends? Don't take my sand.

Two metal detecting treasure hunters. The one on the left has pulmonary fibrosis and he carries a tank of oxygen in his truck. And Alan, on the right, thought he found a ring of Cloris Leachman's one time, but when he put it online someone posted "Hey that's not a ring, that's a doorstopper." (I don't really see how you could confuse the two.) Still there's a part of him that wonders if it was hers since she was sitting where he found it earlier in the day.

Day Dos!! Tuesday. A new day! Ty met me at Santa Monica Beach for sandwiches in the sand. (He had to work for a few hours, so he dropped me off at the beach and went to teach. He's a Renaissance man of sorts: teacher, actor, caterer, mime, baker, among other things.) The we napped and walked the b'walk. Jesters lined up panhandling their tricks; snakes in suitcases - that can't be safe - with a $5 charge per picture; Whitney Houston crackstress singing Rhianna by the pelican in the sea.

A walk to Venice Beach followed with peace signs, pot and hats. The doctor was in, charging $250 for medical marijuana cards.

Stands lined the way.

After Danny's Deli & Bar (where we saw Andy Dick, apparently he's the kind of celebrity who seems to follow you around) we checked out a skate park where boards were flying across the walls in dips and falls.

A race in the sand followed by a "Hey! That guy looks just like Ty! Hey Ty!" from two of his friends, Lynn and Kalen and their pal, Brittany. Laughter and stories and tales of Asian glories. Apparently you never run into anyone you know in LA, but this was the first of three times this myth was shattered during my stay.

That night it was a buddy of Ty's bday, and to celebrate we were going roller skating!!! $10 for admission and rentals and organ music grinding all night!! Organ music and old guys. Backwards skating ruled the floor. Wigs and suspenders, party-goers all decked out, the man in the green was what it was all about.

Ty's neighbor, Nick, me and Ty

Me: "You're a great skater."
Him: "I love it and it's fun... thank you."

The key to a happy life.

I only fell once and it was more damaging to my pride than anything else.

There was a film crew there, who at first I thought was filming the seniors and their roller stories, following them to different rinks and getting their skating backgrounds. Then I thought maybe they were with the two Frenchies (man: geared and padded-up, bracing himself in fear of a fall. woman: tight jeans with racy slits and mid-riff flowing gray top, smiling and flirting with the old men), documenting their discovery of America through the rinks from LA to NYC - both which would've been awesome and I totally would've paid admission to see in theaters. In the end though, I think it was all a show for the bday boy, Matt.

I can listen in on conversations now - I can't help it! Reverse culture shock or sensory overload. We'll see how it goes.

At this cafe down the road from Ty's place, we were sitting outside, hunched over a crossword puzzle when we witnessed the end of an AA meeting. Alcohol holds no judgments over people, just like crazy, it isn't discriminatory.

Urth Yoga, also just down the street from Ty's house, has $5 yoga classes at 6:30a and 12:30p every day!! What a deal! And celebrities go there pretending to be average people! Olivia Thirby was there. And her hair was short. It was a good sweat-inducing class and while we were packed in like sardines, there was just enough room for fun.

Ty had work in the afternoon, so I sat and wrote in a park, and then we went to climb Culver City's Stairs. I loved all the hiking areas!! The 320-something stairs were unevenly spaced and weren't as easy to climb as we assumed them to be, but still FUN!!!

There was pho (I didn't eat it right when I was in Vietnam. I didn't know what to do and I don't think the restaurant I stopped in was too keen on having customers, let alone ones who didn't speak the language) at this place with "Escro" (missing "W) for a sign on Sunset, and it was as delicious as everyone raves about it being. Whoa!

                                                             Ty and his vermicelli                                                       My tasty pho

Everyone eats pho in LA. Pronounced either "ph" or "phO" - you choose. You'll be silently judged either way though most people will tell you it goes both ways.

Then there was The Dresden.

Marty and Elayne (the lounge singers in "Swingers") played while some other lady sang and the saxophonist had gas which was unfortunate for us, sitting behind him and all.

Ty's guy, Corby, Ty, me, Katie and her bf, Wes

Finished the night off at Tiki-Ti at 4427 Sunset. Interesting Tiki bar history there. A family operation. The grandfather came over from the Philippines in 1930 and worked at a number of tiki bars before opening Tiki-Ti in 1961. The place is full of Polynesian splendor, and if you have something to add, donations are always welcome (if it's small and fits the rest of the decor).

                                                                Wes and Katie at Tiki Ti.                                           Corby, me and Ty at Tiki Ti.     

That was Wednesday. On Thursday I hung out with my buddy and old Chicago roommate, Pat and then my friend Suzy's friend Adam picked me up and we ate at a place called the Vegan House (not too shabby) before blasting Lady Gaga's "Born This Way" down Sunset to Suzy's place over in Beverly Hills. Adam pointed out all Silver Lake's clubs that he loves to frequent.

Everyone is writing a screenplay. Everyone. Also, not an overstatement.

Everything LA: Part II

Friday found me back in Culver City, meeting my old camp counseling buddy, Josh, for lunch in the Sony lot. Fancy, right? He's doing well and is happy, so that was good to see. He also saw people he knew while we were walking around. #2. On the way back to Beverly Hills, there was a man - homeless, I presume - waiting for the bus with a rigged up roller suitcase contraption and cooler. He was wearing jean shorts, a Bahama shirt, straw hat, had an unfortunate strawberry blond dye job, facial hair, and wait for i t - ski goggles (yellow/orange-tinted) for sunglasses. If I wasn't convinced he was a murdering psychopath, I would've talked to him.

I walked around a lot that afternoon. All flat in Beverly Hills. I got blisters and talked to a Korean mail man for a minute. No Korean spoken, just him asking me how I liked it and him responding that the people love Americans. Good news for me. (He had seen me walking in one direction in the morning, for the bus stop, then again in another part of BH in the afternoon, so he was wondering why I was walking instead of driving and then I was wondering if he was Korean, so we chatted.)

Suzy, Katie (I love it when my friends become friends! Suzy is a good pal from college and I met Katie in Chicago through my friend, Ali) and I ate dinner at a delectable Mediterranean place with a yummy veggie spread and flowing wine - bless those BYOB places!

Afterward, we took a drive up Mulholland. Lights in LA and vomit-inducing (there wasn't any, but boy! those roads in the hills are curvy!) road, we wound our way up, up, up.

My buddy Steve came up from Dana Point on Saturday. Initially we were going to check out an urban farm in Silver Lake, but they don't give tours on Saturday, so we roamed the roads instead. La Brea Tar Pits and LACMA's Sculpture Garden, falafel sandwiches and then driving through hills and talking and laughing.

Sunday saw hiking in Runyon Canyon, In 'n Out Burger (grilled cheese!), Grauman's Theater, and Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris" which if you haven't seen, you must! You must go at once! Run to your movie theater!! Elbow your way through the line. Don't spoil the movie for yourself by reading spoilers in reviews, just trust me and go. It's movie magic. Such a wonderful thing. Best thing I've seen on film in the theater in I don't know how long. GO!

Monday... I'm sure I did something... Ty and I went to a cafe and did a crossword puzzle, then we went to Runyon Canyon, got fish tacos (the salsa was great, but I wasn't a fan of the deep-frying-ness), headed over to Echo Park to check out 826LA's Future Store and Ty's going to start volunteering there, YAY!! -- You should volunteer there, too!! 826 is in LA, San Francisco, Seattle, CHICAGO!, DC, NYC, Boston, and Michigan.

On Tuesday, LACMA!!

Ty and I went to see the Tim Burton exhibit (GO THERE TOO!! If you find yourself in LA, of course) and exhausted ourselves wandering through the rest of the museum. Museums make me tired and thirsty, but I love 'em enough to keep going back. We also wandered around the Grove's Farmer's Market in between Tim and the rest, for falafel sandwiches(!!!) and there were two celebrities there. These tween girls were excited to take pictures with them. Ty thought they might've been in that Twilight nonsense or some teen drama on ABC Family.

La Brea Tar Pits for a quick walk-through on our way to find a cafe and crossword puzzle. Then we  found our way over to Beverly Hills to take Richard Simmons's class!!

He's still got it, that crazy ole fool!! $12 for an hour and a half long class. Sweaty. Back handed encouragement. "Maybe if you hadn't eaten that quarter pounder for lunch you could get your leg up higher!!" and "You're all a bunch of pansies! Weak, baby pansies!!" Those faces of his, and that energy! He was something else. He would shout about keeping correct form for push-ups, and then retract saying if you needed a modification to listen to your body.

The studio itself was non-descript on the outside, blending into the Beverly Hills background of strip mall doctors and spas. Inside was a completely different air with speakers blasting electro-synth workout music. A crowd registering late, myself and Ty included, was shouted at by Richard, "C'mon slowpokes! This whole class is waiting for you shits!" He was a lot more vulgar than I remembered from his bejeweled PBS show. (Note: he's still sporting his tiny diamond-encrusted tanks and rolled socks.)

The studio's walls were windows into the souls of the participants, or mirrors if you want to be simple. A banister ran along the front and side wall and the floors were buffed to realize the full potential of their lacquered shine. The lights were bright and a big exhaust fan was turned on 20 minutes into class which consisted of following manic Richard's flailing fun dance moves while attempting not to bash the person next to you. We were packed in that room like unitarded tunas in a net. Maybe considered a big room on most days, the night's full class found it cramped and trusting that your neighbor wouldn't crush your toes or punch your shoulder.

An hour of cardio and light stretching, complete with him taking me and Ty out for a spin around the room to YMCA! which he did for a few pairs, but we were up there the longest (he recognized Ty from another class and liked his jazz, so I think that's why we got special treatment). Then arms, chest and back with the weights; abs and push-ups. He ended with a special talk about loving with your whole heart and soul. Anything you do, put all of you into it.

That night I say "adios" to Suz and went to stay with Katie over in Hollywood.

Wednesday was full of more crossword fun, and gelato!!!! A park while Ty taught, and then we went to Griffith Park and checked out the Abandoned Zoo.

Real fun and super creepy. After the zoo portion, we hiked around some more and caught a glimpse of a coyote gnawing on the arm of a dead bum. (I'm just kidding, but we did see a coyote in the distance.) That night, Katie, her boyfriend Wes, and I went to eat Thai food and then Katie and I went to this bar called Birds, based on Hitchcock's "The Birds" and I was a little disappointed it wasn't more divey, but their 1/2 priced Happy Hour from 11-12 was quite alright with me.

I SAW A KID I HAD CLASSES WITH AT MIZZOU!!! #3 in the instances of seeing people you know!! We talked about professors and his mustache.