I Hurt (Kathy Ireland's) Feelings

Last night I was luxuriating in front of the fireplace at “The Batcave”. While flipping channels, I happened upon HSN and saw Badgley Mischka. I know...I was confused too. So I put 2 & 2 together and figured out that if they were on HSN they must be designing for HSN (I know, I’m pretty quick.) My heart began to flutter like I had a hummingbird flying around inside my chest. I grabbed my Mac & tweeted “Badgley Mischka is designing for HSN? **falls down stairs**” Badlgley Mischka has designed for Beyonce (she was wearing them in her “Sweet Dreams” video), and was worn on the red carpet by Latifah & others last Sunday at the Academy Awards. (Their gowns are always seen on the Oscars' red carpet.) The line is carried at Neiman’s & Saks and various high-end retailers globally. I immediately went to HSN.com, only to be disappointed by what I saw. I was hoping to uncover gorgeous gowns that would fit this Recessionista’s budget. Instead what I found was a god-awful off the shoulder maxi dress that looked like the hostess at On The Border should be wearing it, horrible pairs of granny shoes & other disgusting looking items that people in the Midwest will order (along with 4 lbs of  Emeril's mac & cheese and a Colts Slanket) just to say they own something from Badgley Mischka. I then tweeted “Badgley Mischka’s HSN line #womp. It looks like Kathy Ireland’s Walmart line threw up on it.” Fast forward to 24 hours later. After awaking from a long slumber this evening, I logged on to Twitter & checked my @replies and I see one from Kathy herself from 5 hrs ealier:  

**double blink** I responded “Sorry for confusing Walmart with Kmart. :/”

 Now, I have several issues. The 1^st is with "celebs" suffering from what I like to refer to as “Stacey Dashitis.” As you may know, Stacey frequently searches her name on Twitter and responds to people that have mentioned her name. I find that hilarious. Who has the time to search their own name on Twitter? Oh, I know. Out of work actors & washed up models. It’s a sad day when you say to yourself “Hmmmm…I wonder if anyone is talking about me” and you then proceed to search your own name. My 2^nd issue is that I said the BM line looked like Kathy’s line threw up on it. Theoretically, that would be an insult to BM’s line, not Kathy’s. Their line resembles what I imagine is the regurgitation of her now defunct line (which I’ve never even seen) but I’m sure was hideous because it was sold in the same place where you could buy a box of tampons, a loaf of bread, a 10 lb bag of Tidy Cat and Mariah’s “Glitter” DVD & you could pay for the bread with your EBT card. Kmart, Walmart. Tomato, tomahto. I’ve never shopped at either place and that’s for a very good reason. So, to Ms. Ireland I want to publicly apologize for insulting your defunct clothing line by suggesting that it was carried at Walmart when it was actually sold at Kmart. Kmart is suffering sales-wise, closing nearly 65 stores last year, while Walmart remains the number one retailer in the world. So by implying that her discontinued line was carried at Walmart, I was actually paying it a compliment. 

Death To Emo Tweeters

I know that Twitter is the place where people come to overshare. We share what we had for lunch, how bad a co-worker’s breath smells, and even details about body functions (“when did I eat corn?) But lately, I’m noticing an increase of emo tweets, and not just from women. If you’ve been guilty of tweeting any of the following on more than one occasion, please cease & desist effective immediately.

1.  Needy Tweets: “It’s so cold. I wish I had someone to cuddle with. ;(” The same person who tweets this will also get mad when a random follower replies “Hey ma. Want me to come over?” Not the attention you wanted? Welp, you opened that door.

2.  Tweets of Distress: “OMG! I just cut my finger. There’s blood everywhere!” Why are you Tweeting with a bloody finger? Go clean that up! I don’t believe you anyway. But I’m sure a Twitpic that looks like it was taken at a crime scene will soon follow to prove me wrong. “I have a fever of 103. Dizzy...” Ok, if your brain is baking, why are you tweeting? When I’m sick, the last thing on my mind is notifying all of my followers about it in real-time. I can understand tweeting “I’m not feeling well. Going to lay down.” And then actually going to lay down & returning when eggs can no longer be fried on your head. But no one needs constant updates while your face is in a toilet. I’ll never understand this. I’ve seen people Tweet from the hospital. Why are we getting constant updates from your deathbed? I’m not a doctor. I can’t help you! If you want to talk to strangers about your various medical issues, go to a message board on Web MD. I get it...you need constant attention. Get a puppy. Actually, don't. Because then we'll have to hear about him pooping in your shoe. 

3.  Subliminal Tweets: Any Tweet that ends with “you know who you are!” sends me into a tizzy. Why don’t you just take direct shots? Those of us who this is not directed at are now getting hit by stray bullets. Then, God forbid anyone should ask you who or what you’re talking about. The response is either “nobody” or “never mind” or my favorite…no response at all! You threw this out there because you wanted someone to ask. Well, I’m asking. So stop being so damn passive.

4.  Billy Badass Tweets: “I just finished cussing this fool out at the Taco Bell drivethru!” Good for you. I hope you realize he spit in your Enchirito. “I wish this &%$# would call me one more damn time!” Girl, bye. You aint finna do nothin’. Showing Twitter what a badass you are doesn’t make you look like a tough guy. It makes you look like a crazy person with no self control. Chances are, the person this tweet is directed at isn’t even following you on Twitter so why are we being subjected to your threats? Text them that shit, since you’re so hard.

5.   Lovesick Tweets: These are usually shoved down our proverbial throats via some corny ass song lyric. “Tell me how I’m supposed to breathe with no air?” I don’t know. But I bet if you were out of air you’d tweet about that too. 

6.  Reaching Out…But Not Really: “I’ve been crying all night. My eyes are swollen. I don’t know how to fix this.” Again, you’re opening the door to questions that you don’t want to answer. You don’t need Twitter. You need a diary. Now, I can totally understand feeling down & hopping on Twitter hoping that a little entertainment will cheer you up. But if your current state can't be described in 140 characters and my timeline is now filled with how “numb” you feel, you need to log off & thaw out.

7.  Rants Nobody Gives A Shit About: Last time I checked, Twitter was a social networking site. It’s kind of hard to be social or network when every other day you’re tweeting about how misunderstood you are and about how little you care about your haters or people who aren’t “real”. “..and if you can’t see that about me then unfollow me cuz I don’t need you in my life!” Twitter isn’t therapy. That’s what blogs are for. And vodka. And Zoloft. You’re limited to 140 characters for a reason. Some of y’all need way less than that.

Here’s a tell tale sign that your followers no longer give a shit about your emo tweets: If you tweet “I just got hit by a car & my leg is hanging on by a tendon” and no one responds, you’ve lost your captive audience. You’ve been annoying all of your followers for some time. Stop crying wolf all the damn time & maybe someone will actually ask you if you’re ok. After all, that is your main objective right? 

Issues!

My letter in response to the article found here: http://tinyurl.com/ykamlgv 

I just finished reading this steaming pile that you call a response to the insensitive comments that John Mayer made in his Playboy Magazine interview. What concerns me most about your “response” is that in light of his racist, sexist & degrading comments, all that you seem to be concerned about is that your chances of ever getting to ride his David Duke are now out the window. It’s pretty clear to me that you’re insecure and that you have issues with your blackness that started WAY before this article leaked yesterday. First off, my legs did NOT snap shut when I read his interview. They were NEVER open to John Mayer! I don’t find his sophomoric fart humor or “off beat” TMZ sound bytes intriguing or humorous. He’s made a name for himself (outside of his music) by being a complete douche nozzle. I’m only familiar with 2 of his songs & I couldn’t hum a single bar to either one if Jigsaw had me chained to a water heater. So you’re clearly delusional if you think millions of black women have been checking for John Mayer like that. Second, you’re placing blame on John Mayer for your own feelings of invisibility whenever you enter a room full of white men. Honey, it’s not John Mayer’s fault that white men don’t find you attractive. It’s not his fault that you’ve never in your 22 years been “hit on” by a white man. It’s YOUR fault. YOU need to stop looking for scapegoats and start looking within. I’ve never met you in my life and I can tell just by reading this article that you’re self-loathing. So I can only imagine that you exude this while in social settings. When you go out, your mind is already made up that none of the white boys will approach you and I’m sure your body language & overall aura makes you both unapproachable & undesirable. I’ve dated men of every color. I guess you can say my heart is Benetton too. And them approaching me had nothing to do with how I was dressed or how I look. I’m fun, and confident, and smart & not desperate. I don’t go to social gatherings for sexual validation. I don’t feel ugly or unsexy in a room full of any race of people. I couldn’t care less if I get approached by men when I go out. I’m confident & happy with myself. And when men see women that exude these qualities, they’re intrigued by it. As soon as you begin to realize that you’re your own worst enemy, you can stop blaming douchebags that would never give you the time of day anyway for your own shortcomings. You grew up “hearing” that black is beautiful. You grew up “knowing” people who felt this. But you clearly don’t feel it yourself. How do you expect anyone else to think you’re beautiful if YOU don’t believe it yourself? Work on yourself La Toya and stop blaming others. 

Ooops! I Did It Again!

Ok, so I was dating this guy years ago. We’d been seeing each other for a few months exclusively. He lived about 30 miles from my house so to be fair we’d trade off on whose house we’d spend time at. This one particular weekend he was off Friday & Saturday so he came down to my house to stay with me. He had to work Sunday morning so he brought his work clothes with him so that he could get up Sunday morning, get dressed, and head to work.

Saturday night/Sunday morning we were in the bed knocked out. I was in that serious REM when I hear “OH SHIT.” I woke up startled. “What’s wrong?” I asked. He didn’t say anything. My heart was beating fast. I fumbled for the light on the nightstand. I looked over and he was just sitting up in the bed. “What’s wrong?” I asked again. “I peed in your bed.” he said. I’m thinking I know I didn’t hear that right. “What?” I asked. By now I’m FULLY awake. “I peed in your bed!” he repeated. “Well GET UP!” I shouted. I was a little irritated by him being so casual about having just urinated in my bed! I sprung to my feet & snatched back the sheets. Sure enough his pants were saturated and so were my sheets! He slowly got up and walked to the bathroom. I was tired and didn’t appreciate being awakened by someone yelling “OH SHIT!” But I took into consideration that he was probably VERY embarrassed and I didn’t want to treat him like a leper. I told him it was ok, these things happen sometimes. I remember even telling him about the time that I had a “pee dream”. I had this dream that I was at The White House and needed to use the bathroom. I remember walking down all these confusing hallways until I found this grand lavatory with golden sinks & toilets. I sat down to pee and the warmth is actually what woke me up. Of course I was a 9 year old girl when this happened, not a 27 year old man. But I digress. I pulled the wet sheets & the soaked egg crate off the bed. I rolled up the crate & stuffed it into the kitchen trash. That crate actually saved my mattress. I put on some fresh sheets and after he was all cleaned up, we got back in the bed & went back to sleep.

Fast forward to a few weeks later. SAME scenario. We’re asleep again at my place. It’s late night/early morning. I’m KNOCKED out. And I hear “Not again!” I woke up and he says, “I peed in your bed again.” This time supportive Christine was not in the building. “WTF is wrong with you!” I yelled. It was the 1^st thing that came out of my mouth. I’d gone to Target a few days before to get a new egg crate & they didn’t have queen size so this time the only thing between his wet pants & my mattress was a soaked sheet. I was FURIOUS. Once again, I snatched the sheets off and he just stood there watching me as I scrubbed the mattress with a sponge & Pine-Sol in my yellow rubber gloves. I couldn’t believe that I had been awakened out of my slumber AGAIN because this grown man couldn’t control his fluid intake before bed and I’m having to flip my mattress over at 3:00 in the morning. I asked him if this had ever happened to him before and he swore that it hadn’t. I actually Googled “adult bed wetting” to see if I could make some sense of this. The search results said he either had a prostate issue or some psychological issue or he just needed to stop drinking beverages before bed. Whatever the case was, it was a huge turn off. I didn’t give him a 3^rd chance to pee in my bed. We ended pretty soon thereafter.  

Why We Can't Be Friends

Dear ______________:

I remember the last time we spoke. Things had changed between us. Actually, they’d probably been changing for a while and I was just ignoring the signs. I was ignoring what I knew deep down inside was the inevitable. I wanted things to be like they were at the beginning. I guess I was grasping at straws. You were pulling away. You were growing distant. And I felt it. So I held on tighter, which only made you pull away even more. Our daily contact eventually dwindled down to no contact at all. Days turned into weeks, which turned into months, which leads us to where we are today.

As you can probably imagine, I’m shocked to be hearing from you again after all this time. If one were to use the analogy of me having a wall built around me, I’d retort that you were one of the masons on the project. I’m a little more guarded now because of you. I’m a little less trusting now because of what you put me through. Sure the wounds have healed but the scars are still there. And now after all this time has passed you want to be my friend? Now you want to be all chatty as if nothing ever happened? You think you can just step back into my life as if nothing ever happened & pick up where we left off? Do you have the attention span of a goldfish? Have you forgotten everything that quickly? Or are you hoping that I have? Well, I haven’t. And I’m a little insulted that you think I have. Seeing your name pop up in my inbox brings back too many memories, both good & bad. But mostly bad. I remember how things were the last time we spoke. I remember being in a place emotionally that I didn’t like being in. I remember feeling insecure & paranoid & sick to my stomach. I remember not being able to eat or sleep and crying. A lot. I remember the months & years that went by when I tried to avoid certain songs, certain movies, even certain foods because they reminded me of you. And truth be told, I didn’t WANT to remember you. And guess what? It worked. I managed to suppress thoughts of you for so long, I actually stopped caring & I forgot about you. I stopped wondering what really happened. I stopped asking myself “how could someone who says they care about someone treat them like this?” I filled my life with people and things that make me happy. 

My life is great now and I’m in a great place. And now you want to know what I’ve been up to? Now you want to catch up? If you wanted to be a part of my life, you should have stayed in it. You chose to remove yourself. I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in bringing you up to speed. You don’t deserve to know what I’ve been up to. I will never be one of your homegirls. I will always be a woman whose heart you broke.  I accepted this a long time ago. Now it’s your turn. Time has passed and you realize how much better your life was with me in it. Well, that same time has helped me realize how much better mine is without you in it. I’d be a fool to let you back into my life and give you another chance to do more damage. Since you’ve been gone, I’ve been staying away from guys like you. I’d be a masochist if I let you back in. I’m sorry, but we just can’t be friends.

-Me  

I Waited 2 Years For THIS?!

On August 9, 2007 I got my boobs done. As the story goes, I was working for a company and got laid off the same day I was going to give notice. I had two weeks until my new job was going to start and a wad of cash in my hand so a good friend of mine convinced me to go for it. He knew how much I wanted to get this done. I remember being at his house not too long before that showing him my doctors website & pictures of some of his work. So, without even having a consultation I called the doctor that I’d been stalking for nearly 1 year and scheduled the surgery. I paid for it in full the same day. (I don’t recommend that anyone do this without having a consultation first, but I was 100% confident about my doctor. And I’m a little impulsive sometimes. Don’t judge me.) So, I had my surgery. Everything was GREAT. Months later I wrote my doctor a letter telling him about how happy I was with my surgery. His wife read my testimonial and asked me if I’d be interested in being featured on their site. As long as I didn’t have to show off the girls I was ok with it.

So, in April 2008 I had my photo shoot. I met with a great photographer in Hollywood who took some amazing shots. I was able to keep a CD. (He shot 5 rolls total so the CD had approximately 500 photos.) After my shoot, I contacted my doctor’s office & was told that my pictures would be featured on the site sometime in the fall. I was so excited! Month after month I kept checking the site and there were no pics. I sent a few emails over the course of the 2 years asking for an update & was told that some of the other pictures that were up were old as well. Last Thursday I was informed that I would be up in February! Here we are TWO years later. The pics are finally up today, February 1^st, 2010. Here are my issues:

1.) There was some paraphrasing done on my bio. I see grammatical errors & y’all know I be speakin’ proper & shit. (Seriously though, the grammar in MY bio was spot on. It borderline atrocious now.)

2.) There were some BEAUTIFUL shots that were taken that aren’t featured. I had 4 or 5 different looks and they only featured me in ONE. (see my current pic on Twitter @steenfox.) One of my LEAST favorite pics of the 500 is the one they have of me peeking through the bushes. And that's the default. Seriously?

3.) The red leopard print dress was actually NOT red. So, someone took the time to make that dress red to give me a different look when there are 496 other pictures to choose from.

4.) MY NAME IS SPELLED WRONG. WTF?!

I may sound ungrateful, but I was over this SUCH a long time ago. They [these pictures] stopped being important to me sometime during the last decade. I just can’t believe that I waited two years for THIS. I emailed them this morning and asked that they please correct the spelling of my name. (If you really want to ruffle my feathers, call me Christina.) I kinda want to mark up the bio & send them corrections on the grammar as well. I hate that shit. My pics will be up there until the end of time and I have shitty grammar & I’m wearing a red Photoshopped Bebe dress. FML.

Here's a link to the site. This site is NSFW so if you get fired for looking at titties, you can't come stay on my couch. http://www.thebreastexpert.com/modelnew/Christina.html

Hope for Haiti Recap

So, last Friday (01/22/10) I had the honor of being able to volunteer at the “Hope for Haiti Now” telethon that George Clooney put together. It was simulcast on every major network. (BET, MTV, HBO, NBC, etc.) Cecily (one of the many awesome people I met in 2009) & myself were amongst a small team of talent escorts working the event. “What’s a talent escort?” you ask? Well, every major start-studded event that requires talent to be in a certain place at a specific time has talent escorts. Our role is to make sure that the major talent has eyes on them at all times. This is especially important for televised events, because talent often has hard in/out times. So if according to the breakdown (a sheet that details each minute of the show and a description of what’s going on down to the second) Halle Berry is supposed to be on camera at 5:04:45 pm and she’s in the restroom, we need to be able to locate her before her “on” time. (Perfect example: BET Awards ’09 could’ve used better talent escorts on Nichelle Nichols & Zoe Saldana. They were to come out to present together but Nichelle missed her hard in because she was in the bathroom. Zoe mentioned this TWICE on camera. But I digress…)

Often, escorts are assigned a specific talent for an event. However, because HFHN had EVERY A-lister there, it was impossible to have an assigned escort for everyone. George & a few others had someone keeping them on schedule. But most of the talent were splitting their time between one of the two green rooms until the show went live. After that they were all in the phone bank. There wasn’t too much corralling required so this was a pretty easy event.

It rained something awful the week of the event. I was hoping that the rain would let up by Friday. This was not the case. It poured my entire 1 hr commute from OC to LA and when I got there it was STILL raining. When I arrived at the CBS lot it was full so I had to park behind the lot at The Grove and walk back in the rain. On my way out of the confusing parking structure, I crossed paths with a makeup artist who was struggling with a travel case full of makeup. The sky made this loud cracking sound & we both looked at each other. It was about to start pouring, and we were a good 10 min walk from where we needed to be. She didn’t have an umbrella so I asked her if she was going to HFHN & she said she was. Right then it started raining so I invited her under my umbrella. She grabbed my arm & the 2 of us huddled together and made our way through a flooded alley onto the CBS lot.

Once we got under the tent she thanked me (she called me an angel) and we parted ways. I got my credentials & stood under a heat lamp while waiting to find out what the next step was. Soon thereafter, Cecily showed up. We got our food tickets & headed up to the 3rd floor for lunch. We spent about 30 min upstairs eating a nice catered spread with makeup artists and various production folks & stagehands before making our way back downstairs to get our assignments. When we returned downstairs we were told that talent would begin arriving around 3:00. The show was going to be on air at 5:00. Talent would be dropped off at the curb and we were to escort them to wherever they needed to go. Everyone would arrive pretty much camera ready but just in case anyone needed hair or makeup, this would be available for them. Certain talent had dressing rooms (John Legend, Kid Rock, Stevie Wonder, Alicia Keys, George Clooney and some folks from Twitter), but for the most part, everyone would need to be escorted to one of the two white tents inside that were set up as green rooms. Inside those tents were full bars, cookies & sandwiches, and plush white leather couches to lounge on. There were also high bar tables & large flat screen TV’s.

I was running my mouth to Cecily about God knows what when she sort of reached out to me as if to say “shhhhh!” I turned around & saw the reason why. Denzel was standing right next to us at the credentials table. I took no offense at all because it was Denzel! He can interrupt my story any day. Besides…whatever I was talking about couldn’t have been too important because I immediately forgot it.

We had a quick tour of the CBS building so that we’d know the layout. We walked across the stage as Cheryl Crow, Keith Urban & Kid Rock were rehearsing “Lean On Me.” The next hour was spent hanging around waiting for things to start. The ladies at the credentials table were getting things organized in alphabetical order. We had no idea this was the calm before the storm.

It was 3:15. I can’t really put into words what happened over the next 30 minutes. It was just…crazy. There was a line of cars a mile long. And every A-lister in Hollywood was in those cars. All arrivals were being announced over walkies, so we knew who was arriving and in what order. Cindy Crawford & Randy Gerber got out of a black Range Rover and I was handed their credentials. Cindy was drop dead gorgeous in jeans! “We want to go to Kid Rock’s dressing room.” she said. I escorted them up to the 2nd floor & took them to his dressing room. Now, you have to understand…I LIVED for fashion during Cindy’s reign. I had pics of her & several other 90’s supermodels on my bedroom walls as a teenager. So this moment was VERY surreal for me. But I maintained my composure & remained cool. On the outside I appeared like I do this every day. But in my head…I was dying!

I returned back to the 1^st floor and waited for more talent. Everyone was pouring in. The Jonas Brothers were standing at the table to get their credentials. They started giggling when one of the ladies at the table had Chevy Chase’s credentials & kept repeating “I have a Chevy Chase!” I took Mr. Chase (who is completely hard of hearing) thru the metal detectors. He had something in his pocket that set the alarm off. I figured we could just proceed but the young security guy working at the table made him empty his pockets and go back through. He actually asked CHEVY CHASE if he had any weapons in his pockets. Chevy replied “Huh?!” It wasn't a "come again?" huh. It was an "are you shitting me?" huh. The guy asked again & Chevy responded “Oh sure, I never leave home without my knife & gun.” Love it!

When I returned to the table I saw Jennifer Aniston, Tom Hanks, Alyssa Milano & Drew Barrymore. And Charlize Theron who is absolutely GORGEOUS in person. Marissa Tomei…not so much. Her face looked like the side of a dilapidated building. Kimora, Russell & Djimon arrived together (I love that!) Halle was standing right in front of me…it was unreal. Y’all don’t know how I feel about Halle! She’s iconic & I absolutely adore her. Next I realized that I've been hating Taylor Swift for the past 4 months for no reason at all. She greeted everyone with a smile & was a very sweet girl. Then I saw Andy Garcia! I had a picture of him in my locker in high school from when he was on the cover of GQ! Katy Perry & Russell Brand arrived separately but left arm in arm. Brad Pitt walked in looking like he just left the set of the biopic “Three Billy Goats Gruff”. Collin Ferrell. Ricky Martin. Taraji. Tyrese. Zoe Saldana. Robin Williams. Robert De Niro (I love Bobby D!) Common was in line waiting to get his credentials & smiled at me & said hello. He. Smiled. At. ME. I reached for his credentials & another escort intercepted. I didn't want to cause a scene so I let him have them. (He then proceeded to sneak his way into the green room to talk Common & Taraji’s ears off.) He later tells me that Common is his favorite MC & Common told him to keep in touch. Yeah right!

I walked by Quincy & said “Hello Mr. Jones” to which he replied “Hey baby!” I nearly melted into a puddle. When Stevie arrived, everything stopped. I know I’m dramatic but believe me when I say this: I didn’t hear SHIT that was going on around me when Stevie arrived! I watched him being take out of his car by his handlers & walk right past me. I just stood there & inhaled, taking in the moment. It felt like a dream. So many people arrived at once; they started handing out the wrong credentials to people. Samuel L. Jackson arrived wearing his signature black Kangol. Michael Clarke Duncan said he didn’t want someone else’s credentials. And Leonardo Di Caprio. This guy…he’s…special. It takes Cecily to show you how he walked down the hall on his cell phone. He was on some “love-you-baby-love-you-sweetie-let’s-do-lunch" type shit. *winks & points finger* Seriously. All he needed was an ascot & a monocle. He’s so pretentious. He was smoking a cigar & drinking white wine when John Legend arrived with his English Bulldog. Leo walked over to the dog & was petting it. Two feet away from me Leonardo Di Caprio is petting John Legend’s dog while Steven Spielberg walks by eating a turkey sandwich! I felt like I was in a David Lynch film. Oh, and when I took Cecily to the restroom to fill her in on “the escort from hell”, we ran into “Precious”. (That's how I referred to her to which Cecily replied “I’mma need ‘Precious’ to have a real name!") She was really sweet. I took a picture with her & she said “at least you didn’t follow me into the stall!” I saw Jack Nicholson & Mark Wahlberg. Mark is the best friend of a good friend of mine. I sent him a text telling him that I just saw Marky. He said they had breakfast that morning & did I say hi to him. (Um, no! Mark’s picture replaced Andy Garcia’s in my locker. I could never speak to him!)

The highlights of my night were escorting my secret crush Forest to the phone bank, going to a corner to scream into my scarf after seeing LL (Cecily laughed at me) and seeing Muhammad Ali leave the building. That was another “standing in silence” moment. Oh, and when Chris Rock & Rick Rubin walked around the corner together laughing and talking, for about 2.5 seconds I secretly wished I was a New Yorker. Y’all…Rick Rubin! I saw so many things that night that made me smile. Like Debra Messing & Meg Ryan standing off in a corner chatting like old girlfriends…then grabbing hands & pressing their foreheads together. (It was cute.) And Jack Black & Randy Jackson chopping & Sacha Baron Cohen walked up and joined in the conversation. I was also able to speak with Russell Simmons about his Jivamukti Yoga scholarship for women of color. THAT was surreal. *I’m standing here talking to Russell Simmons about yoga.* I thanked him for his time & hit him with a “Namaste” before coolly walking away (all while screaming inside my head.)

It was truly an amazing experience. Seeing everyone in Hollywood turn out in the pouring rain for a wonderful cause. (Everyone was dressed casual…except for Leo & some lady wearing a long green velvet gown & a vest that resembled road kill.) You could see how connected all of these people are. They’ve all crossed paths at some point over the years. Many have worked together or worked on the same lots. Most have have had the same managers, agents & publicists. There was a sense of camaraderie & realness that we regular folk don’t get a chance to see. Being able to witness it first hand gave me a different perspective of Hollywood & it was an experience that I won’t soon forget.