Because I can't come up with anything original today, I am shamelessly ripping off my friend Secret Spanko, who just wrote a fun entry about first blog posts. He did some thorough research, looking back at several people's first blog entries and commenting on the various types. I found it fascinating and thought I'd pick up the ball and continue with it here.
Among others, he mentioned my first entry here on Blogger, in which I was -- what else? -- bitching about something! This time, it was about how effed up MySpace was and why I moved my blog from there. However, he hadn't seen my very first blog post from MySpace. Just for grins, I dug it up. It's rather boring, but here it is in all its glory, from December 28, 2005:
Introduction
Current mood: bored
I guess I have to start somewhere with this thing, huh? OK, what do you want to know? How about some random stuff.
I work from my home as a freelance proofreader. So I'm a nut for grammar and spelling. Right now, because of the freaking holidays, my business is dead... hence the bored mood.
I pride myself on my sense of humor and my quick wit. My father was a comedy writer and won five Emmys, so I like to think I inherited his funny genes.
Guilty pleasures: Hostess Sno-Balls (you know, those revolting things with the bright pink coconut and the marshmallow), old surf instrumentals, watching Dark Shadows DVDs (the original show, not that crappy remake).
Things I love: my boyfriend, animals, milk chocolate, good books and movies, intelligence and humor, rainy days, the Beatles, and a lot of other stuff I'll think of later.
Things I hate: hot days, mornings, cottage cheese, tailgaters, tardiness, cell phone overuse, big noisy crowds, rap and hip-hop, the Capital One commercials with David Spade and that dorky fat guy, reality TV, and a lot of other stuff I'll think of later.
What else... oh yeah. I'm a big OTK enthusiast, very much in the national spanking scene, and I've been in eight spanking videos. Ooooh, am I allowed to say that here?
I guess that's enough for now. Happy hump day, everyone.
Don't you love how I downplayed the spanking bit? It was MySpace, after all. I wasn't sure how much I could talk about it. :-D The one thing I miss from the MySpace blog format is the nifty little "current mood" indicator. Oh, and their built-in emoticons.
How about some others digging up their first blogs? We could make a meme out of it!
In other news, we had some more misadventures on FetLife this week, another flame war centered around our favorite malcontent, droning on and on once again about her thinly veiled contempt for the "pros." It got ugly. It got snarky. And today, she finally erupted, bypassing her usual passive-aggressive approach and blasting us, calling us "pissy, petty, narrow-minded bitches" and "pathetic attention whores," and saying that no one in the spanking video industry would ever be welcome at one of her parties. Oh, dear. Pardon me while I hang myself over that one. :-)
John and I were planning to celebrate Valentine's Day this weekend, but that is now on hold. Besides his relentlessly swelling knee, he caught a cold when he went to the HMO last week and hung around several sick people in the waiting room. (sigh) I will never hear the end of that! Anyway, we decided there's no point in doing anything special when he is feeling so wretched, so we'll do it the following weekend instead. It's OK. It's just a calendar date. As he pointed out, we're each other's Valentines year-round. ♥
Have a great weekend, y'all.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Wednesday musings
My mind is off in a dozen directions today, so this blog may be a bit disjointed. I will attempt to weed out the blather and put down some coherent thoughts.
First, I read something just this morning (a quote from a book) that kind of irked me. I am not going to name the book or the author, because I don't wish to appear that I'm going on a personal attack here. It's the idea behind what I read that bothers me, not the book itself or its author.
The book is for women, and the subject is how to deal with a husband or boyfriend who has a sexual fetish. I haven't read it; I just saw some excerpts, but even in those, the message I got was clear: it's our responsibility to embrace these fetishes and fulfill the desires, if we love our men.
Here is a paragraph that particularly bothered me:
You have a choice: your husband or boyfriend can either be alone with his sexual fetish or you can learn to be the one who fulfills his every sexual need. Choose to reject and you will have a husband or boyfriend who will be secretive and stray. Choose to join in and you'll have a husband or boyfriend who will be loyal and appreciative.
Is it just me, or is this overly black-and-white? A one-size-fits-all statement? I know from personal experience that this isn't necessarily true for all. But what about the hundreds of women out there who will read this and feel like they have to do something that they don't understand/mildly dislike/hate/etc. in order to please their man?
There are a gazillion fetishes out there, and some are more easily fulfilled than others. The author, with this statement, is completely bypassing the third alternative: let your man get his fetish needs met elsewhere, with your blessing.
Of course, the ideal is to learn to fulfill the fetish desires yourself, so your man can stay home and be happy. But life and relationships seldom run along the ideal continuum. I don't think it's healthy to send a message that mates (male or female) have to adapt to a partner's fetish and fulfill it, if it goes against their grain. OK, you can experiment with ropes and blindfolds, with a bit of light spanking, etc. But what about the more hard-core fetishes?
I love John with all my heart. But he likes having things done to him that I couldn't do in my dreams. Am I a bad girlfriend because I haven't forced myself to do these things? Is he secretive and miserable? Yeah, yeah, I hear you guys out there. "Not all of us find playing with others outside the relationship acceptable." OK. But if it's such a selfish thing to be unable to fulfill your partner's fetish, isn't it also selfish to not consider allowing them to fulfill it elsewhere? If someone won't do either, then that makes things a bit non-negotiable. But there is that third choice, and I don't think it shouldn't be ignored in an instructional manual for couples.
Maybe I'm taking this a bit too personally, because it hits close to home. What do you guys think?
EDIT: I do realize this is one lone paragraph, taken out of context. However, some of the surrounding copy seemed similar. And while I take issue with this particular concept, I'm not taking issue with the author. This person is well known and experienced. This is just my gut reaction to the concept that a mate should be expected to embrace and participate in his/her partner's fetish.
In other news, I spent 5 1/2 hours with my former stepmother S yesterday. We talked and talked and talked, about everything imaginable. My parents. Her parents. Her marriage to my father. Her first husband, who just recently passed away. Show business (more Six Degrees of Hollywood: her ex-husband's son is one of the directors of The Big Bang Theory, my favorite sitcom). Politics. Euthanasia (we are both staunch believers in it). She had two adorable little dogs (terrier mixes), both rescues, who scrambled all over me, brought me their toys and covered me with kisses.
A random memory I have from when my dad and S were married: They had a set of four sterling silver wine goblets, which they used every night. The glasses had some initials engraved at the bottom. When they split up, S took two of the glasses and left Dad the other two. I asked him what the initials stood for, but he refused to tell me. Soon after that, he got rid of his pair, because Vampira didn't want him keeping anything that had to do with S. (rolling eyes)
Anyway, I mentioned these glasses to S last night, and she said she still had them! After all these years... I was surprised. She found them in the wet bar area -- they were tarnished, but still beautiful. Finally found out what the initials stood for -- I thought it was God knows what, the way my dad acted about it, but it turned out to be rather sweet. Then she said, "Would you like to have them?"
Oh. Would I. Kind of silly, I suppose. I don't drink wine, and the initials on the glasses are from another time, another love. But I cherish them anyway.
As we said goodbye, she hugged and kissed me and said, "I love you." I blurted, "I just adore you, and I'm so grateful you're in my life." I am, truly.
Once home, I found a silver-polishing cloth and spent several minutes buffing the tarnish off the glasses. They are gorgeous; elegant and classy.
Much like S. My beautiful stepmother, still lovely at nearly 81.
First, I read something just this morning (a quote from a book) that kind of irked me. I am not going to name the book or the author, because I don't wish to appear that I'm going on a personal attack here. It's the idea behind what I read that bothers me, not the book itself or its author.
The book is for women, and the subject is how to deal with a husband or boyfriend who has a sexual fetish. I haven't read it; I just saw some excerpts, but even in those, the message I got was clear: it's our responsibility to embrace these fetishes and fulfill the desires, if we love our men.
Here is a paragraph that particularly bothered me:
You have a choice: your husband or boyfriend can either be alone with his sexual fetish or you can learn to be the one who fulfills his every sexual need. Choose to reject and you will have a husband or boyfriend who will be secretive and stray. Choose to join in and you'll have a husband or boyfriend who will be loyal and appreciative.
Is it just me, or is this overly black-and-white? A one-size-fits-all statement? I know from personal experience that this isn't necessarily true for all. But what about the hundreds of women out there who will read this and feel like they have to do something that they don't understand/mildly dislike/hate/etc. in order to please their man?
There are a gazillion fetishes out there, and some are more easily fulfilled than others. The author, with this statement, is completely bypassing the third alternative: let your man get his fetish needs met elsewhere, with your blessing.
Of course, the ideal is to learn to fulfill the fetish desires yourself, so your man can stay home and be happy. But life and relationships seldom run along the ideal continuum. I don't think it's healthy to send a message that mates (male or female) have to adapt to a partner's fetish and fulfill it, if it goes against their grain. OK, you can experiment with ropes and blindfolds, with a bit of light spanking, etc. But what about the more hard-core fetishes?
I love John with all my heart. But he likes having things done to him that I couldn't do in my dreams. Am I a bad girlfriend because I haven't forced myself to do these things? Is he secretive and miserable? Yeah, yeah, I hear you guys out there. "Not all of us find playing with others outside the relationship acceptable." OK. But if it's such a selfish thing to be unable to fulfill your partner's fetish, isn't it also selfish to not consider allowing them to fulfill it elsewhere? If someone won't do either, then that makes things a bit non-negotiable. But there is that third choice, and I don't think it shouldn't be ignored in an instructional manual for couples.
Maybe I'm taking this a bit too personally, because it hits close to home. What do you guys think?
EDIT: I do realize this is one lone paragraph, taken out of context. However, some of the surrounding copy seemed similar. And while I take issue with this particular concept, I'm not taking issue with the author. This person is well known and experienced. This is just my gut reaction to the concept that a mate should be expected to embrace and participate in his/her partner's fetish.
In other news, I spent 5 1/2 hours with my former stepmother S yesterday. We talked and talked and talked, about everything imaginable. My parents. Her parents. Her marriage to my father. Her first husband, who just recently passed away. Show business (more Six Degrees of Hollywood: her ex-husband's son is one of the directors of The Big Bang Theory, my favorite sitcom). Politics. Euthanasia (we are both staunch believers in it). She had two adorable little dogs (terrier mixes), both rescues, who scrambled all over me, brought me their toys and covered me with kisses.
A random memory I have from when my dad and S were married: They had a set of four sterling silver wine goblets, which they used every night. The glasses had some initials engraved at the bottom. When they split up, S took two of the glasses and left Dad the other two. I asked him what the initials stood for, but he refused to tell me. Soon after that, he got rid of his pair, because Vampira didn't want him keeping anything that had to do with S. (rolling eyes)
Anyway, I mentioned these glasses to S last night, and she said she still had them! After all these years... I was surprised. She found them in the wet bar area -- they were tarnished, but still beautiful. Finally found out what the initials stood for -- I thought it was God knows what, the way my dad acted about it, but it turned out to be rather sweet. Then she said, "Would you like to have them?"
Oh. Would I. Kind of silly, I suppose. I don't drink wine, and the initials on the glasses are from another time, another love. But I cherish them anyway.
As we said goodbye, she hugged and kissed me and said, "I love you." I blurted, "I just adore you, and I'm so grateful you're in my life." I am, truly.
Once home, I found a silver-polishing cloth and spent several minutes buffing the tarnish off the glasses. They are gorgeous; elegant and classy.
Much like S. My beautiful stepmother, still lovely at nearly 81.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Takin' it for Cane-iac!
Recently, the good folks at Cane-iac wrote and asked if they could send me a few new things, so I could test and review them. Naturally, I said yes, without even asking what was coming my way.
Their package arrived late last week, and I opened it to find the Pink Stripe Rubber Loop Set (two sizes: 12" and 18") and the Lexan Paddle OTK, a 12" paddle sized perfectly for over-the-knee.
(gulp) Rubber? Lexan? I hadn't experienced Lexan before, and I'd heard it described in many colorful ways, from mild (it's not very forgiving) to strong (it sucks). But I was determined to be a brave spokesperson and put myself in ST's capable hands with thesebeasts beauties. After all, I do believe in this company and their product.
So tonight when ST arrived, I showed him the new toys (and watched his eyes light up, the sadist), and we talked about how we'd handle the testing. I remembered the last time I'd done a demo with their implements, ST had given me a nice long warmup, and as a result, I didn't get lasting color or any marks. Bravely I suggested that perhaps we should forego the warmup and go straight to the new implements. His eyes lit up even more and his grin was positively diabolical. Of course HE thought that was a good idea.
Off to the bedroom we went. I tried taking a "before" picture, holding all three implements, but as it turned out, they didn't show up well against my sweater:
So we did this type of before picture instead:
We decided to do 20 strokes of each toy per round, taking pictures in between.
He began with the Jr. (12") rubber loop, which is a great OTK toy. Without a warmup, the first round with the implements hurt like crazy, but I could still get a clear sense of how each one felt. The rubber loops were very snappy, more of a sting than a thud (which I like), and the loud CRACK they made was impressive. After 20 each of both the Jr. and the Sr. (18"), ST picked up the Lexan paddle.
Perhaps it's a good thing we weren't filming. Upon my first taste of Lexan, I used some language that would have been inappropriate for Cane-iac's site. Ouch, ouch, ouch.
Once I acclimated a bit, I realized it had a feel that's unlike leather or wood. It's not as thuddy as wood, even though it's more solid and firm than leather. It has a very crisp sting and a bite upon impact (this particular one is 1/4" thick). Cane-iac's Lexan paddle is well made, with smooth, rounded edges and a non-slip vinyl handle. ST wanted me to mention that it felt very good to him (rolling eyes) and it was easy to use.
Here I am after two rounds of 20 with all three (120 strokes total):
We're just getting started!
Time for another position -- instead of on the bed, now it was bent over a chair. By now, I was quite warm and that sweater had to go.
Third set of 20 with all three -- bit more color now. And I was stamping and fussing a lot more.
(Big thanks to Zelle for Photoshopping the damn tag out of my bra! ♥)
But wait, there's more! All three of these toys could be used OTK, even the 18" loop. So over his lap I went.
We stopped counted the sets of 20; he just whaled away at this point. ST takes his product testing duties very seriously.
After three positions and countless strokes, I'd say we'd done a good test, and all three implements passed, even the Lexan. Once I was warmed up, I sorta kinda didn't completely hate it. OK, I loved to hate it. Or I hated to love it. Something like that.
So now I have three new additions to my collection, and I would recommend these to anyone who wants something different from the usual. The prices are excellent, and you cannot beat Cane-iac's customer service or quality of craftsmanship.
My one caveat about the rubber loops? I would say exercise caution about using them anywhere you're concerned about noise, because they do make a distinctive and loud snap. But as I always say, if your neighbors don't hear an accompanying shriek, they can't say for sure what you're doing. So make sure you stifle your reactions with a pillow or bedspread and you should be fine.
Oh... did you think we were done?
Hell, no. I had to retrieve the rest of my Cane-iac arsenal.
I was so sore after all those, he even let me rub:
However, despite it all, I couldn't stop giggling. I tried to tell him it was hysteria, but he didn't buy it. I pushed him a bit too far with this pose -- you can't see it very clearly, but I have my middle finger stuck through the loop:
OK, OK! I'm sorry! Sheeesh... Some people have no sense of humor.
By the way, I broke my Junior rattan cane. I would have taken a picture of it, but we couldn't find the piece that flew off. Honest to god, we searched all over the bed, on the carpet, under the bed -- that damn thing just disappeared. Knowing me, I'll find it with my bare foot eventually.
Even without a warmup, I didn't mark. Scary. But ye gods, I'm sore. Happily so, though. I needed this tonight.
(Right, Erica. When do you not need it??)
Thank you, Cane-iac. And thank you, ST, Testing Partner Extraordinaire. :-)
Their package arrived late last week, and I opened it to find the Pink Stripe Rubber Loop Set (two sizes: 12" and 18") and the Lexan Paddle OTK, a 12" paddle sized perfectly for over-the-knee.
(gulp) Rubber? Lexan? I hadn't experienced Lexan before, and I'd heard it described in many colorful ways, from mild (it's not very forgiving) to strong (it sucks). But I was determined to be a brave spokesperson and put myself in ST's capable hands with these
So tonight when ST arrived, I showed him the new toys (and watched his eyes light up, the sadist), and we talked about how we'd handle the testing. I remembered the last time I'd done a demo with their implements, ST had given me a nice long warmup, and as a result, I didn't get lasting color or any marks. Bravely I suggested that perhaps we should forego the warmup and go straight to the new implements. His eyes lit up even more and his grin was positively diabolical. Of course HE thought that was a good idea.
Off to the bedroom we went. I tried taking a "before" picture, holding all three implements, but as it turned out, they didn't show up well against my sweater:
So we did this type of before picture instead:
We decided to do 20 strokes of each toy per round, taking pictures in between.
He began with the Jr. (12") rubber loop, which is a great OTK toy. Without a warmup, the first round with the implements hurt like crazy, but I could still get a clear sense of how each one felt. The rubber loops were very snappy, more of a sting than a thud (which I like), and the loud CRACK they made was impressive. After 20 each of both the Jr. and the Sr. (18"), ST picked up the Lexan paddle.
Perhaps it's a good thing we weren't filming. Upon my first taste of Lexan, I used some language that would have been inappropriate for Cane-iac's site. Ouch, ouch, ouch.
Once I acclimated a bit, I realized it had a feel that's unlike leather or wood. It's not as thuddy as wood, even though it's more solid and firm than leather. It has a very crisp sting and a bite upon impact (this particular one is 1/4" thick). Cane-iac's Lexan paddle is well made, with smooth, rounded edges and a non-slip vinyl handle. ST wanted me to mention that it felt very good to him (rolling eyes) and it was easy to use.
Here I am after two rounds of 20 with all three (120 strokes total):
We're just getting started!
Time for another position -- instead of on the bed, now it was bent over a chair. By now, I was quite warm and that sweater had to go.
Third set of 20 with all three -- bit more color now. And I was stamping and fussing a lot more.
(Big thanks to Zelle for Photoshopping the damn tag out of my bra! ♥)
But wait, there's more! All three of these toys could be used OTK, even the 18" loop. So over his lap I went.
We stopped counted the sets of 20; he just whaled away at this point. ST takes his product testing duties very seriously.
After three positions and countless strokes, I'd say we'd done a good test, and all three implements passed, even the Lexan. Once I was warmed up, I sorta kinda didn't completely hate it. OK, I loved to hate it. Or I hated to love it. Something like that.
So now I have three new additions to my collection, and I would recommend these to anyone who wants something different from the usual. The prices are excellent, and you cannot beat Cane-iac's customer service or quality of craftsmanship.
My one caveat about the rubber loops? I would say exercise caution about using them anywhere you're concerned about noise, because they do make a distinctive and loud snap. But as I always say, if your neighbors don't hear an accompanying shriek, they can't say for sure what you're doing. So make sure you stifle your reactions with a pillow or bedspread and you should be fine.
Oh... did you think we were done?
Hell, no. I had to retrieve the rest of my Cane-iac arsenal.
I was so sore after all those, he even let me rub:
However, despite it all, I couldn't stop giggling. I tried to tell him it was hysteria, but he didn't buy it. I pushed him a bit too far with this pose -- you can't see it very clearly, but I have my middle finger stuck through the loop:
OK, OK! I'm sorry! Sheeesh... Some people have no sense of humor.
By the way, I broke my Junior rattan cane. I would have taken a picture of it, but we couldn't find the piece that flew off. Honest to god, we searched all over the bed, on the carpet, under the bed -- that damn thing just disappeared. Knowing me, I'll find it with my bare foot eventually.
Even without a warmup, I didn't mark. Scary. But ye gods, I'm sore. Happily so, though. I needed this tonight.
(Right, Erica. When do you not need it??)
Thank you, Cane-iac. And thank you, ST, Testing Partner Extraordinaire. :-)
Friday, February 3, 2012
"Stop calling me 'ma'am,' you jackass!"
That, ladies and gentlemen, was the line that sealed my fate in the latest clip on Spanking Court. I was happily surprised to see Clip #5 up so soon after #4. One more to go...
This is the one where the Judge oversaw my punishment and I broke down in tears on camera. Watching it yesterday made me squirm!
I think I was wiping my eyes or my nose or whatever in this shot. Look how heavy that paddle is. But I'd earned it.
Some excellent news! For those who would rather not join the Spanking Court official site, they have just opened a Clips4Sale store! For now, there are just a few of the early videos, but they will be adding new ones in succession and I assume their full library will up on there eventually. Very cool!
In other news, it's a great Friday. Not only did I get Chrossed (and congrats to all the others as well), but my beloved finally went to the doctor this morning. His knee hasn't been getting any better and it's been two weeks.
He's improving, folks. Last year, it took him five weeks to go to a doctor when he was sick, with some rather dire consequences, as you may recall. This year, it only took him two. (sigh) I've never met anyone so averse to seeing doctors in my life.
Or to taking anything. I had suggested he take Advil for the inflammation, but he refused. He iced it every day, but that's all he would do for it.
So, double good news. First, nothing is broken. Second, the doctor told him to take Advil, every day, for the inflammation. Yes, you stubborn man, love of my life, I told you so. (Don't worry, I didn't actually say that to him.)
Happy kitty, purr purr purr! (Any Big Bang Theory fans among us?) Have a great weekend, y'all.
This is the one where the Judge oversaw my punishment and I broke down in tears on camera. Watching it yesterday made me squirm!
I think I was wiping my eyes or my nose or whatever in this shot. Look how heavy that paddle is. But I'd earned it.
Some excellent news! For those who would rather not join the Spanking Court official site, they have just opened a Clips4Sale store! For now, there are just a few of the early videos, but they will be adding new ones in succession and I assume their full library will up on there eventually. Very cool!
In other news, it's a great Friday. Not only did I get Chrossed (and congrats to all the others as well), but my beloved finally went to the doctor this morning. His knee hasn't been getting any better and it's been two weeks.
He's improving, folks. Last year, it took him five weeks to go to a doctor when he was sick, with some rather dire consequences, as you may recall. This year, it only took him two. (sigh) I've never met anyone so averse to seeing doctors in my life.
Or to taking anything. I had suggested he take Advil for the inflammation, but he refused. He iced it every day, but that's all he would do for it.
So, double good news. First, nothing is broken. Second, the doctor told him to take Advil, every day, for the inflammation. Yes, you stubborn man, love of my life, I told you so. (Don't worry, I didn't actually say that to him.)
Happy kitty, purr purr purr! (Any Big Bang Theory fans among us?) Have a great weekend, y'all.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Odds and ends not in my book, part 7
The Bar Mitzvah Story
Most of you know that a Bar Mitzvah is a Jewish coming-of-age ritual for 13-year-old boys. A similar ritual for girls is the Bat Mitzvah, but when I was growing up, they were far less common. I'd been to several in my formative years -- my brother, a couple of cousins, some friends. To be blunt, in general, they are all a crashing bore. They go on and on, and the only reason you endure them is you get to go to a fun party afterward with dancing and catering at some posh ballroom.
Anyone who has read me for a while knows I have a cousin famous in the TV industry. Because he married a younger woman late in life, he has young kids. About 10 years ago, his son was Bar Mitzvah'd. John and I went, along with my mom and stepdad.
The ceremony itself was the usual protracted yawnfest. Celebrity's child or no celebrity's child, the ritual was the same, with endless readings, getting up and down (for whatever reason, they keep having you stand up for certain readings -- perhaps it's so your legs won't go to sleep), singing, Hebrew passages, yada yada yada. John and I were squirming in our seats.
Of course, there were Hollywood touches. At one point, the boy read a poem that had been written for him. OK, that's nice; any kid can have a poem written for him, I guess. But this particular poem was written by renowned author Maya Angelou. And signed, "Auntie Maya."
Whatever. By the time it was over, we fairly ran out of that shul (temple). Once outside, a few feet from the doors, John grabbed me, pulled me to him and laid a huge kiss on me.
"I saw that!"
We turned to see who'd called that out -- it was Carl Reiner.
OK, for those who don't know the name, Carl Reiner is one of the few people from vintage TV who is still with us (he'll be 90 in March). He is an actor, writer and director, and his TV career spans from Your Show of Shows (with Sid Caesar) in the 1950s, to the Dick Van Dyke show in the 60s (he played Rob Petrie's boss Alan Brady) all the way to the present, playing Betty White's love interest on Hot in Cleveland. He did The 2,000 Year Old Man with Mel Brooks. He's won nine Emmys and one Grammy (for comedy album). His son is Rob Reiner, who played Mike on All in the Family. Oh, and his wife Estelle delivered one of the most well-known lines in movie history -- "I'll have what she's having" from When Harry met Sally. You can read more about him here.
Anyway, so here we are with this TV icon mock-glaring at us. I laughed and said, "Wanna see it again?" "Sure!" he said.
So John and I went at it again. Carl then shot his hands up in the air dramatically and blurted, "No tongue! You're in front of a shul!!"
Later, when he came over to say hello to my mother, he nodded toward us and asked who the "kissing fools" were. Too funny.
The long-awaited reception was held at the Beverly Hilton Hotel, or was it the Beverly Hills Hotel? One of those Beverlys. Once there, we mingled among throngs of people and enjoyed huge shrimp and baby lamb chops (and those were just the appetizers). There was also a full sit-down dinner, with entertainment.
Often at a Bar Mitzvah, "entertainment" consists of a cheesy band playing old standards for the adults and elevator versions of rock tunes for the kiddies. Not this time. This Bar Mitzvah had a stand-up comedian.
Was it Uncle Morty, fortified with a couple of belts of Manischewitz, telling the old chestnuts about how a Jew, a Catholic and a Protestant meet in a bar?
Nah. It was Lewis Black.
I don't remember whether or not he downplayed his usual angry, epithet-laced style of delivery. I'm thinking not. What a night.
I've been thinking about Hollywood stuff this week, after seeing an obituary in the news on Monday. Another one of my father's peers, a director of comedy TV shows. I'd met him several times when I was a kid. He and my dad had an extra connection besides show biz, though. My dad's second wife, S? (not Vampira; this was the nice, pretty one, the dancer). She was this director's first wife, before she met my dad. It's a small world.
I dropped her a note to express my condolences (she did have a child with him, after all). I haven't seen her in over a year, but we're having lunch next Tuesday. I look forward to that; I just adore that woman. She's 80 now; I hope she'll stick around for a while.
She knows nothing about Erica Scott. Sometimes, I wish I could tell her, share my deepest secret with her. She's known me since I was eight. But I can't, and I won't. I doubt anything would faze her, as she's seen and heard it all. But it's still TMI.
Hope everyone's having a good week so far. :-)
Most of you know that a Bar Mitzvah is a Jewish coming-of-age ritual for 13-year-old boys. A similar ritual for girls is the Bat Mitzvah, but when I was growing up, they were far less common. I'd been to several in my formative years -- my brother, a couple of cousins, some friends. To be blunt, in general, they are all a crashing bore. They go on and on, and the only reason you endure them is you get to go to a fun party afterward with dancing and catering at some posh ballroom.
Anyone who has read me for a while knows I have a cousin famous in the TV industry. Because he married a younger woman late in life, he has young kids. About 10 years ago, his son was Bar Mitzvah'd. John and I went, along with my mom and stepdad.
The ceremony itself was the usual protracted yawnfest. Celebrity's child or no celebrity's child, the ritual was the same, with endless readings, getting up and down (for whatever reason, they keep having you stand up for certain readings -- perhaps it's so your legs won't go to sleep), singing, Hebrew passages, yada yada yada. John and I were squirming in our seats.
Of course, there were Hollywood touches. At one point, the boy read a poem that had been written for him. OK, that's nice; any kid can have a poem written for him, I guess. But this particular poem was written by renowned author Maya Angelou. And signed, "Auntie Maya."
Whatever. By the time it was over, we fairly ran out of that shul (temple). Once outside, a few feet from the doors, John grabbed me, pulled me to him and laid a huge kiss on me.
"I saw that!"
We turned to see who'd called that out -- it was Carl Reiner.
OK, for those who don't know the name, Carl Reiner is one of the few people from vintage TV who is still with us (he'll be 90 in March). He is an actor, writer and director, and his TV career spans from Your Show of Shows (with Sid Caesar) in the 1950s, to the Dick Van Dyke show in the 60s (he played Rob Petrie's boss Alan Brady) all the way to the present, playing Betty White's love interest on Hot in Cleveland. He did The 2,000 Year Old Man with Mel Brooks. He's won nine Emmys and one Grammy (for comedy album). His son is Rob Reiner, who played Mike on All in the Family. Oh, and his wife Estelle delivered one of the most well-known lines in movie history -- "I'll have what she's having" from When Harry met Sally. You can read more about him here.
Anyway, so here we are with this TV icon mock-glaring at us. I laughed and said, "Wanna see it again?" "Sure!" he said.
So John and I went at it again. Carl then shot his hands up in the air dramatically and blurted, "No tongue! You're in front of a shul!!"
Later, when he came over to say hello to my mother, he nodded toward us and asked who the "kissing fools" were. Too funny.
The long-awaited reception was held at the Beverly Hilton Hotel, or was it the Beverly Hills Hotel? One of those Beverlys. Once there, we mingled among throngs of people and enjoyed huge shrimp and baby lamb chops (and those were just the appetizers). There was also a full sit-down dinner, with entertainment.
Often at a Bar Mitzvah, "entertainment" consists of a cheesy band playing old standards for the adults and elevator versions of rock tunes for the kiddies. Not this time. This Bar Mitzvah had a stand-up comedian.
Was it Uncle Morty, fortified with a couple of belts of Manischewitz, telling the old chestnuts about how a Jew, a Catholic and a Protestant meet in a bar?
Nah. It was Lewis Black.
I don't remember whether or not he downplayed his usual angry, epithet-laced style of delivery. I'm thinking not. What a night.
I've been thinking about Hollywood stuff this week, after seeing an obituary in the news on Monday. Another one of my father's peers, a director of comedy TV shows. I'd met him several times when I was a kid. He and my dad had an extra connection besides show biz, though. My dad's second wife, S? (not Vampira; this was the nice, pretty one, the dancer). She was this director's first wife, before she met my dad. It's a small world.
I dropped her a note to express my condolences (she did have a child with him, after all). I haven't seen her in over a year, but we're having lunch next Tuesday. I look forward to that; I just adore that woman. She's 80 now; I hope she'll stick around for a while.
She knows nothing about Erica Scott. Sometimes, I wish I could tell her, share my deepest secret with her. She's known me since I was eight. But I can't, and I won't. I doubt anything would faze her, as she's seen and heard it all. But it's still TMI.
Hope everyone's having a good week so far. :-)
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