Ms. Cheevious in Hollywood

My Zany Years Spent Working in Tinsel Town

Daily Mischief

Meh. I got nothin’

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MEH. I GOT NOTHIN’

 

#DailyMischief

 

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You may have noticed that I’m not myself lately (not the fun-loving, story-telling nut job I normally am, that is). I’ve been otherwise detained with business opportunities (of which, involve classical pilates certification, the FINAL launch of my memoir Ms. Cheevious in Hollywood, an entire revamp of my personal website, teaching Pilates on steroids and now, TAXES).

It’s not easy writing a blog when so much else is spinning, especially if and when Mercury is in retrograde.

 

It’s tough to conquer the world when your equipment goes schizo.

I’m not saying I believe in all this hocus-pocus stuff that people apparently LOVE to dish out. And trust me… I’ve been exposed to it all, and it can be some downright WHACKY bullshit. If you happen to live your life by tincture and crystal please don’t be offended. It doesn’t make me love you less, but I’m not one to go there without serious research or at least gut-level sense.

And hey, I don’t know the mysteries of the universe, (although I’ve been quite sure I’ve solved them over cocktails now and then), but ask to hover crystals over my body to see if my chi is balanced, or whatever, and I’ll make you a deal: I’d love to read the entire Webster’s Unabridged dictionary to you in a seven hour sitting.

This to say, that Mercury may or may NOT be in retrograde… but dammit all, I am BACK people!!

Okay… I’m sort of back. Let’s not go crazy. I’m not totally back right this second.

Right now, in this  moment?…

Well… I got nothin’.

 

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Register to receive these posts once a week by email and get my eBook “Ahhhhh…Haaaaaa Moments with Ms. Cheevious” for FREE as a result (a $3.99 value). Registration is on the right side bar of every blog post, or on our Facebook page. See you next time.

Blog content copyright 2015, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms.Cheevious.

A little peek

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TIME’S UP KIDS!

This is the last week you can pre-order the hard-cover copy of my book “Ms. Cheevious in Hollyood: My Zany Years Spent Working in Tinsel Town” at a discount! Order now.

 

UPDATE:

Since this post went live, my book’s gone on sale!! SQUEEE!!!!  And Amazon, being the behemoth it is, has it marked down even cheaper than retail!

Go HERE: http://www.amazon.com/Ms-Cheevious-Hollywood-Working-Tinsel/dp/0986232408/

Now, if you want a SIGNED copy, you’ll need to order that here.

Also, the “fan” business in the next line won’t work for you either (since the pre-order campaign page is done), but you can subscribe to my e-list (emails go out *maybe* once a week) over there =====> in the side bar! WOOT!!!

 

 

If you’re waiting for the paperback or eBook version, that’s okay. You can still do something for me. Go to the page and sign up to be my fan, would you? This will help me in the future, to know who wants the book, even if it’s not now.

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Below is little peek into the book, and what’s in store if you read it! FUN.FUN.FUN, I say.

Enjoy!

If I’d Attacked Him He’d Be Dead

“I wonder if Scarlett Johansson can tell I escaped insanity to be here.”

 

“Lisa Jey!”

Aaron, my friend and boss called into the headset, “I need you to get Scarlett Johansson and take her to prompter! She’s hung up at red carpet somewhere. Over!” Kkkhhh.

“I’m on it,” I replied. Hmm … I saw Lost in Translation … I’ll recognize her, I thought. But as I opened the sound stage door, I was met by a barrage of equipment and people: celebrities drinking and chatting, production crews maneuvering cameras and boom microphones and journalists, all crammed together outside the backstage door. I had to get through this cluster just to get to the red carpet and I had to move fast. Okay, this may not be so easy.

I pushed my way authoritatively through the crowd, without prejudice. “People! Hello! Can—you—please—MOVE? It’s imperative I get through now! Snoop Dogg? Hi. I’m sorry! No time to talk here. I have! To get! To red! Carpet!”

I finally spilled out of the other side of the crowd near the opposite end of the red carpet nearly tripping over my own stilettos (I always dress up for show time). Behind me lay party mayhem. In front of me were scattered miscellaneous faces in utter silence. It was like night and day. Where was everyone? And where was Scarlett? I scanned the landscape frantically, looking for someone who might know my charge. A few guys wearing baggie jeans with boxers exposed, black shades, sports jerseys and tons of gold bling were talking on cell phones and slouching against the audience stands. Rappers… Why do they all dress alike? I walked up to one of them, who had his phone up to his ear and asked, “Have you seen Scarlett Johansson?” He said nothing, but pointed to his right and looked over toward a skinny little thing who was smiling and chatting away, seemingly amused by the mayhem behind me. She looked fabulous in a black little bustier dress and yellow mesh tank. Her hair looked like it was pulled up in these tiny sort-of chop-stick things.

I walked over to her, conjuring up my most cheerful voice and said, “Hey there! I need to get you to prompter pretty quickly. They’re waiting for you.”

“Okay,” she answered with a smile and followed me. This time, the chaotic crowd seemed like no big deal. I knew it was for one reason only: I had Scarlett with me. The friggin’ Red Sea parted because everyone wanted a piece of—I mean a glance at Scarlet Johansson.

As we worked our way through, Scarlet kept pausing to greet every single person along the way she seemed to know, and there were a ton. This is not good. Finally the stage door came into view, and just as I was starting to feel my breath recalibrate, Scarlett stopped dead in her tracks and began a full-on conversation with an unassuming guy who was standing there in a tan leather jacket and dark sunglasses. I had no idea how she knew him, or why anyone would assume it was okay to hold things up, but he was smiling a lot and looked pretty happy. I just didn’t get it. I would have burst into flames, but my appreciation and enthusiasm for all things fun and social (not to mention the fact that I kept getting involved in Scarlett’s little conversations, laughing and smiling right along with her and her “friends”) kept me somewhat cool. I couldn’t tell whether any of them saw through my clever producer disguise. I found I was pretty adept at waxing professional and not letting on about anything that had gone on in my life. But it was in those moments, attempting to relate to people who were on the red carpet, and who knew Scarlett for one reason or another, that I couldn’t help but wonder if they saw “Damaged” or “Been through hell” written all over my face. Was there any chance Scarlett saw past the headset into the chaotic, heartbreaking world I’d come from? Could she possibly see that I’d been through the horrors of my husband’s violent drug addiction, the threat of losing my kids and going to jail, and had suffered deeply seeing my older son under someone else’s care? I hoped not, as I chuckled and smiled as knowingly as possible at their talk of designer gowns or shoes, or the party they’d been to in Cannes. I watched as she and this mystery guy laughed together for all on the sidelines to see.

After a few minutes, I was jolted back again. Kkkhhh. “Lisa Jey! Where’s Scarlett?! Over!” Kkkhhh.

Trying to talk under my breath I mumbled into the headset “I’ve got her. We’re at the stage door. But there’s a hold-up.”

“What?” Aaron commanded. In that second I noticed a boom mic hanging over my head and with a glance over my shoulder saw an entire MTV camera crew behind me, trying to capture all of this on film. Why is everyone making such a big deal about this?

Then, Mr. Unassuming reached out, shook my hand and said, “Hi. How’re you doing?”

Oh. I get it now.

“I’m good, thanks!” I said cheerily…

 

“So, you were the Tom they were looking for earlier?” I said, laughing to Mr. Unassuming Tom Cruise.

Click here to order your copy, to follow my adventures as a newly divorced single mom let loose on Hollywood!  And find out exactly WHY this chapter is called “IF I’D ATTACKED HIM HE’D BE DEAD”! 

 

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Register to receive these posts once a week by email and get my eBook “Ahhhhh…Haaaaaa Moments with Ms. Cheevious” for FREE as a result (a $3.99 value). Registration is on the right side bar of every blog post, or on our Facebook page. See you next time.

Blog content copyright 2015, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms.Cheevious.

 

It’s time kids

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I know it’s been almost nine friggin years in the making, and I realize it’s been so damn long that to refer to my memoir “Ms. Cheevious in Hollywood – My Zany Years Spent Working In Tinsel Town” as much anticipated, or even long overdue, seems well, a little old and worn. I also am cognizant of the fact I have been promising this book for so long that the mere mention of it here on the blog has been scant, to say the least, and has mostly been relegated to the BOOKS page of the site.

But guess what?

The day when I can ACTUALLY say “I wrote a memoir” and have it be – well… TRUE… is HERE. And that day is TODAY (well, I made the pre-order available a few days ago, but it counts).

CAN I GET A WHAT WHAT???

THIS IS BIG, YOU GUYS.

Though it’s the hardcover that’s available for pre-order at a discount ($24.99 instead of the $29.00 release price) until the book is set to release on February 1, and the paperback and eBook versions will be available later this year, THIS IS HUGE!

As a special part of this pre-order nonsense, I am offering to sign your copy. This could be really valuable, you know, in case I become famous one day, and then die, and assuming you are still living and decide to auction it off. It could happen.

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And, call me crazy, but I’m not even charging extra to sign your book, and mail it personally to you (you just have to select the “package” option on the page).

I know, right? That shit is CRAZY.

So, it’s time kids! If you don’t want to preorder a copy, AT LEAST follow this link and go and FAN the damn page, would ya?

Here’s the link. Have fun: http://www.mscheevious.pubslush.com

No sign off stuff here because I did this all from my phone while on the chair lift in Mammoth Mountain (okay, I’m lying. I’m actually on the floor in the bathroom of our hotel room in Mammoth at 4:15 AM and couldn’t sleep until I told you guys about this, even though I am on my phone and this is a pain in the ass, because this shit right here IS the shit… You know? But saying I did it just prior to jumping into the halfpipe on my snowboard sounds so much cooler). Have a great week everyone and GO RIGHT NOW TO FAN MY PRE-ORDER PAGE AND MAYBE EVEN PRE-ORDER A SIGNED COPY.

 

#MomFactor: All women, in general, will enjoy this book, but moms will take more away from this book, I think; and if you’re a single mom, especially, then this book is for you, written with you in mind, my dear. GET IT. READ IT. COMMIT IT TO MEMORY. That is, if you want to.

 

I would *NEVER* do that

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I WOULD *NEVER* DO THAT

 

#DailyMischief

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So, I was thinking about all this cyber terrorism going on – the hack on Sony – the hack on ME – yep… my website was hacked and down for three weeks at the hands of muslim extremist hackers. Because we ALL know what a threat I and my 1000 visitors per day are to them. I mean, I don’t blame them, really. I can be f-ing SCARY. In fact, even as I type this – BAM – another terrorist muslim extremist faction drops – BAM – just like that. DROPS LIKE A FLY.

Remember what happened to the Syrian Electronic Army, after I wrote that one article?

Cyber_Attack

Of course you don’t. I’m THAT good.

But Nuggie and I discussed this at length over cocktails recently. It’s not just terrorists, or cyber terrorists. It’s not just muslim extremists either. We now have homegrown terrorism to worry about. Yep. It’s a THING now. The Boston bombers were just one example.

Based on this, I have decided I would actually PREFER the NSA resume eavesdropping tactics. I’d be a little surprised if people didn’t start begging for it, really.

So the NSA has my permission. They should keep up the good work, and not stand for any other countries showing us who the cyber-bosses are.

BUT IT HAS TO BE WITHIN LIMITS.

Because, I could totally see the NSA accidentally coming after me.

We can’t really blame them, can we? Poor NSA. All the signs could potentially point to me being a major threat, right? You know, cuz I always seem to make money appear from out of nowhere n’ stuff.

It could happen…

NSA: We see you were in some debt recently, ma’am. But we also see you’ve made some large deposits into your bank account… And then their was the hack of your website…. which begs the question:

WHY WOULDN’T YOU SELL SECRETS TO NORTH KOREA? DID YOU? AND DID YOU MAKE A DEAL THAT WENT HORRIBLY WRONG? DID THEY HACK YOUR WEBSITE? TELL US!

ME: Wait…. North Korea is buying secrets? What kind of secrets?

NSA: And what kind of code name is this MS. CHEEVIOUS?  And who is this MC NUGGET? Some kind of agent? If so, he’s not a very good agent. He never gets anything done, but he seems to be everywhere.

I’m just saying. We need the NSA’s protection, people. Americans should be NUMERO UNO at cyber war games. This means we can snoop, and pay attention, but we do NOT make stupid mistakes and we do NOT falsely accuse people. We have to KNOW our shit.

I mean, even though I have some really great stories and would probably fold like a cheap suit when asked to sell my juicy secrets… conduct any sort of business with or sell anything to North Korea? Um, NO. I would NEVER do that.

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#MomFactor: Watch what your kids are into online and do NOT let them write threatening articles or poke fun at the Syrian Electronic, or any other cyber army. It just doesn’t pay.

Register to receive these posts once a week by email and get the blissful yoga routine in an eBook “Ahhhhh…Haaaaaa Moments with Ms. Cheevious” by Lisa Jey Davis for FREE as a result (up to a $4.99 value!). Registration is on the right sidebar of every blog post, or on our Facebook page. See you next time.

Blog content copyright 2014, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms.Cheevious.

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For your viewing pleasure, here is a screenshot of what my website looked like before my über talented computer guy took my site back:

(you can click the image to see the full size and scare the bujeebies outta you):

hacked site image

 

 

I was rocking *AND* rolling

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I WAS ROCKING *AND* ROLLING

 

#DailyMischief

 

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So the other night, M.C. Nugget and I went out for some cocktails with my new BFFs Marrie and Suzie. I mentioned here how Marrie and Suzie (fellow bloggers who also dish on dating and relationships) and I have known each other for about six years or something, and yet we just met in person this week. That was a very cool experience.

But on Friday night we brought the SMACK DOWN on nightlife in Santa Monica when the four of us decided to meet for drinks after happy hour, after we’d already had a couple of cocktails.

Sure, it began as a respectable gathering. We grabbed a great table on the outside patio at Areal (our favorite place), and shared funny stories. It felt very civilized. I think… I mean, isn’t THIS what respectable, fun and interesting adults do? I’m just curious.

After a few cocktails and a couple of other stops, we (me) decided it was time to dance. I like to dance, and if I hear good music, I’m done for. Play a song I’m in love with at the moment, and I AM CUTTING A RUG, you guys. It’s a weakness I was born with (it runs in my family, as evidenced by the above photo). If the Pied Piper tried to woo me, that blasted flute thing wouldn’t do. Not unless he played a beat-box track along with it. Then, I’d be toast. And this is true, whether there is alcohol involved or not. Alcohol merely intensives things.

So, there was that.

As the evening at Bar Copa (the closest dance place we could get to) progressed, I decided to busta-move in front of our little table. When I say busta-move, I don’t mean twerking, no. We’re talking deep knee bends… the kind where you squat all the way down to the floor and stand right back up. I can do this… normally. 

I was able to do it a couple of times, but I was a little wobbly, so instead of cutting my losses and moving on, I chose to keep trying. I teetered forward a couple of times, catching myself on the little table in front of me, until I finally over compensated, and rolled backward onto my BUTT.

ON THE FLOOR.

ON MY ASS.

Great way to break out my slick cool moves for my new girlfriends, I know.

Nuggie quickly jumped up, “Okay, dancy, come and sit over here with me.” But there was no controlling me. I just kept rocking AND rolling.

It wasn’t the alcohol, I swear.

It was THESE SHOES.

I rocked AND rolled

I promise, if you try to deep-knee-bend-dance in these shoes, you WILL invent a new dance. It will be called the ROLLY POLLY.

It brings a whole new meaning to the song “Get on up on the dance floor.”

 

#MomFactor: Every mom needs a little fun now and then. That’s all I got. 

 

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Register to receive these posts once a week by email and get the blissful yoga routine in an eBook “Ahhhhh…Haaaaaa Moments with Ms. Cheevious” by Lisa Jey Davis for FREE as a result. Registration is on the right sidebar of every blog post, or on our Facebook page. See you next time.

Blog content copyright 2014, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms.Cheevious.

 

 

When did we forget how to do this?

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WHEN DID WE FORGET HOW TO DO THIS?

 

#DailyMischief

 

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M.C. Nugget and I went on a little getaway over Halloween weekend. We were invited to a big party in Downtown LA, and though we never venture into downtown or anywhere east of Lincoln Blvd, for that matter, a former client owns a hotel there and gave us a great deal, yada, yada, yada… yeah, yeah, yeah… We all know how this story goes.

We went to that party on Friday night, the blessed cacophony of mayhem and mischief that it was. But if you can imagine being in the center of a huge warehouse full of people in ornate, colorful costumes, dancing to bass-thumping music… Then picture yourself twirling around so fast that you see only a blaze of color and wind; Or think about if you were to enter a 3D black light art installation, were handed 3D glasses by the people at Altervision, and all you could see were bright, loud, neon colors in the wind.

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Not sure how we don’t look blue there, because every other photo made us look like the blueberry girl from Willie Wonka.

Blacklight Art Installation

THERE IS ONE OF THEM.. a blueberry girl, otherwise known as Tinker Bell from Altervision.

 

If you’ve come this far with me, imagine on the next evening, entering an ancient Electrical Plant-turned speakeasy from the 1920’s, with burlesque shows and fifteen dollar beers. If you can imagine all of that, then you know that THIS IS HOW THESE STORIES GO.

But how does the story end?

How this story ends, is, well a little disappointing, because somewhere along the line, Nuggie and I forgot how to do this shit (or maybe it’s just that I forgot). Somehow the metrics have completely escaped me for how to bring all of the pieces of this story together so it ends with us lying in a bed of posies, butterflies fluttering and beautiful music lulling us into a peaceful sleep at the end of a huge weekend. Instead, it ends with the zombiefied versions of me and Nuggie exiting our hotel room, sunglasses on, making a beeline to our comfortable, friendly neighborhood bar for brunch (and a little hair of the dog, in Nuggie’s case, because remember, I don’t get hangovers). And by little, I mean I made note of the number of cocktails I was having this time (this is number 4, okay, this is number 5), I lost count somewhere between number 5 and when I found myself back home at the beach palace, waking up to the sound of a blaring alarm clock telling me it was time to get up and teach the minions how to live and be healthy.

Yes, I woke up and put on my best healthy face, when really I just wanted to crawl back into bed.

It didn’t help that we “fell back” an hour on the clocks, which creates its own sort of jet lag for me.

Nuggie and I both have been sleeping ever since last weekend, and I have made a solemn vow to let the whirlwind, twirlie girls in their 20’s, 30’s and so on handle the whirlwind weekends from here on out. Stay tuned on that one, but just don’t hold your breath.

Because apparently we really did forget how to do this without getting sick or sleeping for three weeks afterward.

 

#MomFactor: These kinds of parties and activities work wonders for showing your kids you’ve not lost all sense of “cool” by becoming a mom. If you can do them without going too wild, you’re golden. 

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Register to receive these posts once a week by email and get my blissful yoga routine in an eBook “Ahhhhh…Haaaaaa Moments with Ms. Cheevious” for FREE as a result. Registration is on the right side bar of every blog post, or on our Facebook page. See you next time.

Blog content copyright 2014, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms.Cheevious.