Ms.Cheevious

A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned in my post “Fashion Over Saturation” that I had breakfast at a cool, trendy place in West Los Angeles called Food.

I met a grandpa sort of guy there, sitting next to me at the bar.  I like to sit at the bar in those types of places.  You never know who you’ll meet.  It also makes for an excellent inside view into the inner-workings of the restaurant.  You wouldn’t believe what goes on. 

As soon as I sat down with my Financial Times, Weekend Edition, I could see out of the corner of my eye that Grandpa was ogling it, enviously.  It was hard to miss. I couldn’t help but notice him trying to read the orange rag from his seat.  I had two editions, actually, stacked on top of each other.

“Are those your papers?” He finally asked. He must have realized he was far too obvious. 

“Yes, they are. If you’d like, you can read this one,” I said motioning to the week-old issue, “I’m pretty much finished with it.”

“Well, that’s the old one,” he said, obviously disappointed. 

“Well, yes it is,” I agreed, “Sorry.  If I finish it while I’m here, you’re welcome to it.” 

That began a brief relationship that lasted, oh, about an hour or so – over the course of which, we commented on the economy, the stimulus package (I learned this old Jewish grandpa was a conservative, and in addition to asking for my fax number to send me an article written by Michelle Malkin on the stimulus, also wanted to know my blog address, so he could check it out), and I learned that he was the proud grandpa of some very industrious kids. 

His grand-daughter Coco wanted to buy herself a horse, and in order to do so, decided to sell the eggs that her chickens were laying on a daily basis.  She made a real business out of this.  She sells to neighbors and nearby markets, and had to turn down an order from a five star restaurant in the area, because she just couldn’t boost her production!  It’s based out of Sonoma County, California and it’s called Coco’s Cluckers. 

Pretty industrious, indeed.  The website, it turns out, was put together by her slightly older brother.  Check that site out!  These kids are doing things you and I never dreamed of at eight and ten years old! 

What a cool world we live in!

It occurred to me today, that I may have never been graced with such ingenuity, had I not been willing to 1) go to a restaurant by myself (something that actually bothers some women I know); 2) sit at the bar next to a somewhat odd looking, (interesting in my book) person; and 3) converse with this old grandpa. 

But I like people.  Not only that, I like all kinds of people – old, fat, skinny, messy, dressed-to-the-nines, and uptight kinds of people. I am not intimidated nor do I shy away from expanding or extending my circle just a little more, to include a quirky old grandpa, and his precocious little grand kids. 

Pretty cool that I met him, and was subsequently encouraged that our nation of youth are not all playing video games all day long, and wasting away their formative years, eh?

This week, my younger son is visiting me from New Mexico – where he lives with his dad.  He is thirteen.  He is interested in some cool things too.  He lifts weights, rides motor-cross,  snowboards, and plays the guitar and the drums. 

But I hope some of me does eventually rub off on him.  I want him to realize the value of discovering every single diverse, unique and quirky kind of person that crosses his path.

Tomorrow we are braving the wilds of Six Flags, Magic Mountain.  I’m sure we’ll have our chance to extend our circles there!

Have a fantastic weekend everyone!  And please – really DO enjoy every person, and every moment! 

Stay tuned next week, when I dish on life in Venice Beach!  If I am feeling really “industrious” like Coco, maybe I’ll even shoot some video for you!

Love you people!  Mmmmmmphhhhuuuhhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Blog content copyright 2009, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious 

This week I’m gonna’ give you a little somethin’ somethin’ to help launch you – full board – into Spring.

Fred the Wonder Chicken had a friend in town from Pennsylvania last week.  That guy is one big FUN event after another waiting to happen!  He was like the Ever Ready Bunny (or is it Energizer Bunny?) of good times! 

Now, I’m only telling you this, because I know some of you think I am a goodie two-shoes.  Well, I’m not.  Okay? Let me set the record straight. 

I am cool.  I am a bad ass, dancing fool.  I love to get out, flutter around the bar or restaurant, say hello to everyone, and if necessary, cause trouble.

So, guess what?  FWC, his Pennsylvania trouble making friend and I got kicked out of a bar on Saturday night.  Yup! Me, Ms. Cheevious – the Goodie Two-Shoes of Los Angeles got BOUNCED from a BEACH BAR! 

Okay, so to hear them tell it, I gotta’ say (because it sounds better), that our departure from the premises was a mutual decision between the management and our party.

But here’s the low down: 

We all know how I like to get my groove on, right?  Well, I was the one who begged to go to this particular dance club on Main Street in Santa Monica.  It just looked cool.  From the outside it looked like I could groove all night long, and love every minute of it.  But looks can obviously be deceiving. 

As the evening progressed, and I was dancing, minding my own business, having a nice little time – the music began to get progressively more difficult to dance to. It became sort of that whole “techno” music vibe. I hate techno.  I hate dancing to it. You can’t sing to it.  What is the point?  I think techno was invented to drive people crazy, and make them want to kill themselves.

So after a few songs that all sounded exactly the same, with that same stupid, annoying beat, and after I’d had a few cocktails, I approached the DJ to ask if I could request a song.  

That was the first mistake. 

He was NOT happy I was asking.  As a matter of fact, he was just plain mean about it.  To my surprise, however, he managed to growl in his cockney, British accent, “What you want to hear?” 

So – have I told you that I am blond?  Of course I have – to those of you veterans, reading this.  But to you new folks – have I told you that I’m blond? 

I could be convinced to REALLY think it is something in the dye.  I’m sure there is some way for it to seep into the brain – and right at the moment when you are trying to pull up something really clever, it steals your thoughts from you.  Gone. 

Particularly on days when you’ve just had your hair done.  Saturday was one such day for me.

So, I stuttered and stammered a bit, before blurting out, “Brittany?” only to feel the urge to dodge a spit wad from the guy.  He was that kinda guy.   “NO!  I’m NOT PLAYING ANY BRITTANY!” 

Ya’d think the guy would at least have a smile on his face as he rejected me, especially since he was jabbing a sharp, steal blade into my soul with his evil eyes.  But no.  This guy was ANGRY. 

So, of course I thought I just had to do better.  So, what did I suggest?  “Madonna?” 

That was the second mistake.

Can you  BLAME ME?  I am BLOND, I had some drinks, and in trying to be COOL for the COOL BRITISH BLAH BLAH DJ, I was just pulling up anyone out there that I knew had a new album out! 

“I’M NOT PLAYING MADONNA!  NO! GET OUT OF HERE.  GO AWAAYYY.” 

So, have you ever seen a baby deer – a doe, freeze in front of a car?   You know how they get those big saucer eyes? 

Well, that was me, after being punished by the DJ.  Only my eyes welled up with tears to boot.  HA HA!  What a wimp! 

I moped back over to our little corner, and immediately Fred the Wonder Chicken knew something was wrong.  I told him what had happened, and before I could say anything he jumped up to go tell that guy how to talk to a lady.  My hero! Awe!  Ummmy, yummmmy!!!

I suppose push came to shove, (not literally), but FWC – after calling the guy a “DICK” or something of the sort – asked to speak to the manager.  Guess what?  The DJ just so happened to be the manager.

So, as we were leaving, with a couple of nicely dressed bouncers kindly walking alongside us, we made sure to say how sorry we were that they had to work for that DJ – and as FWC put it, “Such a DICK.”  One of the bouncers said to me, “Tell me about it.” 

So, I got bounced from a bar – but have a great story to tell because of it!

I hope you all get out there this Spring, get your grooves on, and get bounced from a beach bar as well!  Ha ha – Jussssst kidddddding!

Have a great weekend everyone!

Love you people!  Mmmmmmmpphhuuuhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Blog content copyright 2009, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious 

So, last weekend I went to a restaurant in my neighborhood for breakfast (I live in an area called Century City. It’s actually between Century city and Rancho Park – sort of Century City-adjacent. Ha ha).  The restaurant was called Food. 

Okay – so I am a little weird when it comes to commerce and society. I notice unique things about how businesses choose to promote themselves. I study the sides of 18 wheelers on the highway. I notice the color schemes they choose for the bed of their trucks, and the slogans they choose to use. Some would say it’s because of what I do for a living – marketing and publicizing everyone and everything – but I wonder about these things often.  So, I also notice the trends – for something even as basic as the names of businesses.

For instance, have you noticed for the past eight or ten years now, that the very trendy thing to do when naming a restaurant was to choose one word that described it – preferably something clever?  So, FOOD says it all doesn’t it? Although, one could argue it’s just not that clever.

Not too far from where I live, there’s a breakfast place called Toast, a fantastic steak house called Cut, and another called STK. Even the Japanese have joined the ranks of trendy restaurateurs. There’s Koi, Nobu, Matsuhisa, Katana, etc. There is Fig, Taste, Seed, Casa – oh the list goes on, and these are just the places I can rattle off which exist on the west side of Los Angeles. I’m sure there are thousands.

I think I have a pretty good track record of noticing or at least predicting that moment just before a trend reaches over-saturation. Ask any of my sisters who use to ask me to help them change their decor at home or come up with some new style or whatever. Maybe they were just being nice, but I tend to think it was because in my younger days I always tried to stay ahead of the curve. At my wedding, so many people thought it was absurd that I chose teal poofy bottom strapless dresses. They’d never seen them before. Well, they saw plenty after my wedding, but I was first. HA!  I don’t mean to sound egoccentric or anything.  I’m just giving you some background here.  It didn’t do so much for the longevity of my marriage, but my girls LOOKED MAHVELOUS!!  Ha!  But I digress — again. 

So, with all this in mind, FWC and I were talking about this very subject – restaurants and their short names.  I was stating how you can tell when something is well PAST over-saturation when EVERYONE and their MOTHER has jumped on the band wagon. Here’s a news flash:  The one-word trendy restaurant name, my friends, hit over-saturation long ago.  If you are looking to name your cute little corner of paradise, serving up only the yummiest of baked goods, something like “Dough” – don’t do it, unless it has real meaning — like you plan to charge an arm and a leg for every item as well, and eating there will cost your patrons tons of DOUGH.  I’m telling you that trend is OVER.

As we mused about this very thing, FWC came up with the brilliant and humorous next trend: exceptionally looooonnnng names for restaurants.

He said, “Yeah! The next hot spot will be ‘Our Place is the Best Restaurant Ever [pause], Because [pause] We Serve The Best Food. [pause] So You Should Only Eat Here. [pause] Okay? Okay!’”.

We cracked ourselves up on that one.  But then we decided, people are now trained to the one-word names, and would shorten it to “Okay,” which would be the end of that restaurant. 

They’d say, “Want to go eat at that new place, Okay?” and their friends would say, “Okay!  What’s it called?”  They’d answer, “Okay!”  Which would elicit the response, “Cool.  But. What is the restaurant called?”  

You get my drift. 

But I’d venture to say the trend for longer, more complex restaurant names is definitely on the near horizon, if not already in existence. And I say, GOOD RIDDANCE to the one-word anomaly!  Enough of this simplified life, already. We get it.

The same over-saturation point has happened for those long sleeved shirts that have that sort of tattoo look to them. You know the ones I’m talking about. They sport either an intricate tattoo design, fine art, or are “Indian chakra” inspired (just to name a few styles).  They’ve got everything from Celtic crosses to beautiful women with a third eye staring out at you.  I absolutely love them, and will continue to wear them, because – hey – I like them, and I don’t care if they’re hot and trendy or not. 

I’m not sure where these shirts got their origin, but I remember first buying them up at Nordstrom back in 1999 or 2000.  I remember the feeling of hitting “pay dirt,” fashionably speaking.  I knew I’d be one of the first to sport them, and it was such a thrill.  HA! As a matter of fact, I still have one of those first shirts – a short-sleeved rendition.

Now you can’t go to ANY store without seeing those very shirts, a knock-off , or some interpretation of sorts on the racks.  Even Target and Walmart have gotten into the game.  It’s enough to make Ed Hardy start drawing pencil sketched stick figures (heyyyyyy – that’s not a bad idea)! 

But you see?  That’s what we need!  I know society and trends go in cycles on their own.  People do eventually get sick of seeing the same thing over and over.  Then somehow, even though all we like sheep, who’ve gone astray, suddenly take our rose colored glasses off to take a look around, lay our eyes on all those other sheep in tattooed clothing, and wonder ‘where is the individuality?  why do we all look the same?”, we are still individualists at heart.  So we venture out to find that NEW Ed Hardy type-person, who is a renegade, and goes out on a limb to create some other COOL shirt.  Like maybe plain, solid white tees.  And the cycle starts all over again.

Remember when Michael Jackson donned the one-gloved hand, and suddenly every guy out there (if he had the guts to do it) was wearing one glove, a black leather jacket with an up-turned collar, and patchwork jeans?  Some paradigm shift in the universe had to take place to make that one go away, but it did happen.  One day, all those MJ look-a-likes got wise to the scene, and sought out the next new thing. Thank GOD it wasn’t SPEEDOS!

Okay – so what is the point of all this nonsense anyway, you may ask?  Why, to fill your brain with useless information of course!  Besides, how in the world could I sleep at night if I thought my readers were not aware of when a trend was about to hit over-saturation?  Oh my GOD, help! We can’t have THAT.

But the truth is, I think we should all wear exaclty what we want, never caring whether too many other people are wearing the same thing. We should name our restaurants or businesses whatever the hell we want, and be GLAD we have the freedom to do so. Listen – I do love those trendy shirts, and you will see me wearing them – because they just seem so, well, ME.  If you want to be a true fashionista and only wear what is hot and trendy, then do it! If you want to wear cut-off jean shorts and a ratty tee shirt with paint splattered on it, I’d applaud you. But this whole thing was a simple exercise in the contemplation of trends and how they reach over-saturation, un-kay?  So, don’t get all up in my grill if you see me wearing something passe and making an over-saturated fashion statement!  I know some of you.  You’ll do it.

Now, go out there and have a fabulously trendy, or an incredibly mundane fashion weekend you beautiful men and women! 

Love you people!  Mmmmmmphhhuuuhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Blog content copyright 2009, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious