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Ms. Cheevious in Hollywood

My Zany Years Spent Working in Tinsel Town

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Girls Night Out

Stop Your ‘Splainin’ Lucy

June 17, 2013 by MsCheevious

Yes, PLEASE, for GODSSAKES, stop your ‘splainin’ Lucy, because I’mma getting tired of picking up the pieces.

Lucy_Splainin

I’m talking to myself, of course. And herein lies the article in which I proclaim that while my hilarious tales of Lucille Ball-esque adventures are fun and all (for the story-telling and the reading), they’re not nearly so fun in real life.

Here’s the story …

I recently joined a new friend (someone I met at the Facebook and Twitter conference in San Francisco earlier in June), fellow blogger Melany (of MelanysGuydlines.com) and a few of her friends to celebrate her birthday in Hollywood. I don’t do Hollywood much anymore these days, since I now live at the beach. It’s a huge trek, and the parking is astronomical on a Saturday night. But alas, I needed some girl time, and was actually looking forward to hanging with Melany, so… trekky I became.

My day leading up to this was not one for the list of hallmark moments (to put it kindly). One of my sons, whom I normally love, behaved in such a way that I unleashed a scream on him that I generally reserve for — oh — let’s say plane crashes.

I decided after that to arrive early to the party (and arranged with Melany and company to do so as well for a pre-party toast)… I like Melany and all, but after the day I had, I was suddenly looking forward to a martini.

There were a number of things that destined this evening to fail for me: a) I parked too far away. I’m out of practice, and have taken on M.C. Nugget’s habit of parking a “little” further in order to save a buck. In this case it was five bucks, so I parked somewhere and started walking before I realized it was about a quarter mile. I hoofed it in heels; b) the altercation with my son put a damper on everything; and c) I’d mistaken a warm balmy day at the beach for what I thought would be a warm balmy night in Hollywood, and arrived in a halter top and no jacket. It was f-ing cold.

When my martini arrived so did the champagne Melany’s mother “phoned in” for our little group. Fun times ensued…

You’ll be proud to know that even in my darkest hour, I did not imbibe irresponsibly. I had my one martini and a few sips of Champagne.  When the party decided to make a move, I was ready to call it a night.  I got in their car with them, thinking their next destination, The Rainbow on Sunset, would bring me closer to my car… WRONG.   The Rainbow is way past where I parked. But this is Sunset Blvd on a Saturday night people.  You do not “turn a car around.”  So they pulled over and I flagged  a cab back to my car.

And then, I was bamboozled by a cabby.

He took me down the block, for all of five bucks (so much for my five dollar parking save), and I handed him a twenty.  I was distracted, looking into the hotel lobby (think, “ooohh… pretty lights over there!”) when the cabby scoffed in a huff, pulled out five singles, and said “This is all I have” (which is BULLSHIT now that I think about it).  I somehow confused what I’d just handed him and said okay, “keep one single.” And so I walked away from the cab sixteen dollars poorer.

This is where I should have cried and said “Ricky! He caught me off guard! He…. he…. he STOLE from me, RIIIICKYYYY!!!”

But instead I texted M.C. once I was back to my car and realized the fiasco that just occurred. Then I drove home in an angry “Don’t frack with me” rage.  Not a great end to an already Sucky McSucklestein day.

Sorry. I know. I could have shared my tale in a light-hearted, “Oops! What a dumb blonde I was” fashion…The Lucille Ball comparisons could have remained intact, as you pictured my cartoon-esque figure dizzily bouncing around Sunset Boulevard. But alas, I’m still out sixteen dollars.  It’s times like this I want to kick myself in the arse and say “FOCUS lady! FOCUS!”

Then M.C., my night in shining armor called me and said “Where do you want to meet me. I’ll buy you a drink.”  My hero.

I’m now a reformed Lucy. I will never be bamboozled by a cabby again. You can COUNT on it.

Love you people!!!! Mmmmppphhhuuuhhhh!!!!

xoxo,

 

Ms. Cheevious

aka Lisa Jey Davis

Editor in [Mis]Chief

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Filed Under: Girls Night Out, Sheer Utter Silliness, Stress, Uncategorized, Vodka Tagged With: Lisa Jey Davis, MelanysGuydlines, Ms. Cheevious, Rainbow on Sunset, Sunset Boulevard

My Most Mischievous Moment

June 17, 2012 by Cady McClain

Ms. Cheevious Note: Continuing in our series of guest articles I’m thrilled to welcome Cady McClain, two time Emmy winner, author, artist, musician, funny lady and all around Ms. Cheevious gal as this week’s guest contributor (you will soon learn just how mischievous she can be).

Let’s give Ms. McClain a warm welcome here in Ms. Cheevious-land: Read, enjoy, comment and share this article with everyone you know.

xoxo

Ms. Cheevious
Editor in (Mis)Chief

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My Most Mischievous Moment

Painting by Maria William & Available for Purchase. Used by Permission
Painting by Maria J. William available for purchase (www.mariawilliam.net/joy.html). Used by Permission

My most mischievous moment was … when I ended up naked in a rooftop pool.

It happened quite randomly. I was attending a baby shower. Who would have thought in less than 5 hours I’d be drunk off my ass, naked in a pool on the roof of the SOHO house in NYC?

It’s true, the baby shower simply wasn’t “doing it” for me. I guess I’m not terribly sentimental about other people’s children. In fact, it’s really hard to care less. Their parents seem to care quite enough, thank you. So I will admit it. I WAS BORED. Bored out of my mind. The guy who sat next to me at the table, the one guy who seemed a tiny bit interesting took off early. Maybe he didn’t want to get hit up by a bunch of wild women, who knows. I couldn’t blame him. More than one of us was looking for trouble that night.

And so it happened that I found myself lingering at the bar with my heavy drinking German girlfriend – let’s call her Olga, wondering what would possibly take the sting out of all the reminders that neither one of us, already in our late 30’s, were married or anywhere close to considering something as unsettling as a baby shower. Across the room from us, her friend, a mad English woman who we shall call Madame X, was on the prowl, fingering her blackberry in a mad attempt to summon someone to entertain (or more likely) fawn over her.

The Englishwoman Madame X, saw my German friend Olga and me and suddenly stopped texting whatever was so important, focusing in on me like a laser beam. She stomped over with a curious half smile on her face. Something was brewing in her eyes, but I was too naïve then to truly understand the expression.

“I am inviting my friend over. He is in town from Ireland. HE is WITH ME, OKAY?” She announced this with no provocation or to no argument from either Olga or myself. Then she continued, much to our surprise, “SO DON’T GET ANY IDEAS, ALRIGHT?”

“Alright! Christ!” I said, “I don’t know what you are talking about but, what-ever!” I was intrigued now, that was for sure. I think perhaps that was her aim all along – to stir up trouble. “What are we doing?”

“I DON’T KNOW,” was her already-well-into-her-third-martini reply. “BUT HE’S COMING.”

I turned to Olga. “Well, OKAY. If we have a ‘special guest,’” I rolled my eyes for emphasis and to make Olga laugh, “Maybe we should do something interesting.” I don’t really remember whose idea it was to go to the pool but once it was suggested we all agreed it was a good move. It was the idea that defined ‘who was into a round of fun’ and who was not.

At the mention of “The Pool,” the few baby lovers left lingering decided to toddle off to whatever baby thing gave them a thrill while the rest of us (single women) headed to the roof – where champagne was being served and the heated pool beckoned.

SOHO HOUSE NYC

It turned out to be really lovely weather for October, and for some reason there was no one else there but us. I wonder why they let us stay. We were not exactly behaving ourselves, but we were ordering drinks – lots of them. It was fun to watch the other girls (there were about six of us by this point) saunter around the pool and show off for the waiters. We had scared off any normal men. It was at this point the poet arrived.

He had long, shaggy blonde hair and was tall with a muscular build. A handsome chap, the kind that looked like there would be no taming him – in fact, quite the contrary. He was a “use it/you and lose it/you” kind of fellow. I could see why Madame X thought it was important to tell any Irish looking dame like myself to back off. We were, shall we say, each other’s “type,” and by that I mean we both knew what alcoholism and depression looked like first hand. You recognize it when you grow up with it, and you don’t ever live without being aware of those who have it and those that don’t. It’s a little family gift, a turd of love. I have learned that the attraction to other people who are similarly gifted the turd, is not love, nothing of the sort. It is simply “recognition of a similar self” – nothing more nothing less. However when you are young and stupid, it feels like sexual attraction. It’s one of God’s cute little tricks to beat you into admitting you know nothing.

Madame X announced she was going into the pool and promptly ‘dropped trou.’ She had a pretty body, small breasts that lie upon her chest like little cupcakes begging to be licked, and a fine round rump. I liked looking at her.

“Fuck it,” I said (as I have so often), and also shed my wears. Now – if you don’t know me, you need to know I am one part ‘uber conservative priss’ and one part ‘wild hippie child.’ I cannot control which one or when either one is going to come out – it just happens. Tonight it was the hippie. Let’s just say I was into some free hugs. Almost all the girls jumped in right after me, but Olga was not unleashing her largess. She preferred cocaine and cigarettes to naughty behavior, unless of course, she was fucking someone famous or infamous. This she enjoyed until she could get back to her cigarettes whom I suspect will turn out to be the love of her life.

We swam for a long time. It was someone’s (mine) bright idea to get shots of tequila. I think I was missing my so-called boyfriend at the time who lived in another state of body and mind – one that didn’t include coming into town to hang out with me and my friends. He liked tequila a great deal, almost as much as he liked pot. Tequila shots and champagne, however, don’t like anybody.

I don’t think I blacked out, but I don’t remember when the poet swam up to me and we began some sort of dialogue. We didn’t touch, but it’s an undeniable fact that we were both naked. We simply swam up and down the pool, talking. It was really lovely. A poetic moment, of sorts: the warm water running over my body, his blonde pubic hair wafting in the chlorine, his body standing over me as I floated and we talked about something philosophical and restful and intriguing. I didn’t want to fuck him – really, I SWEAR. It would have seemed like too much work. I was tired of all the emotional exhaustion that comes from fucking, anyway. I just liked talking and we happened to be naked. Some people would understand that. Others, like Madame X, did not.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING, MISSY?” Came the bellow from down the pool. I stood up looked at the poet and realized, oh yeah… this was the guy I was supposed to stay away from. It was an, “Ah shit,” moment, because I knew no one would believe me when I said I was enjoying the conversation.

“I think I’d better, uh, you know,” I said. He nodded and looked pissed. A pleasant moment ruined.

I watched him push his body down the pool towards her. She kneeled and tried to touch him, which he brushed off. Then I had to stop watching. I found a towel and dried off, talking to Olga who looked like she saw a very familiar play begin to act itself out again. It was hard to see her friendship so tested, as she had been a good pal to Madame X for many years.

When I got my outfit back together I noticed the poet had left. “Where’d the guy go?” I asked Olga, who shrugged. He wasn’t the only one. Apparently while I was off pulling my pants out of my wet ass, he and a few other girls had taken off. Madame X had been tearing into each one of them as they walked out. The tequila had made me too drunk to notice. She turned her fury to me.

“HE’S LEFT! YOU SEE WHAT YOU DID?” She stomped over like an angry toddler and sat across me on a lounger, crushed. “YOU SEE? I TOLD YOU TO STAY AWAY FROM HIM AND NOW HE’S LEFT.”

“You know, we were just talking. There wasn’t anything going on. He’s nice. I don’t know, maybe you should call him.” What a stupid girl I was. In way over my head with a diva, I went for the soft sell. I should have left then, but I didn’t. I thought I had to make up for something, had to be a friend and explain my point of view. MISTAKE!

“YOU KNOW, I HAVE CANCER!” She screamed at me. “I HAVE FUCKING CANCER!”

Now you need to know this too: my completely insane, uber-dysfunctional mother died of a long, disgustingly hideous and vomit inducing trial with cancer which lasted from my teens into my mid-twenties, so when she pulled that card, I was frozen by her statement – frozen and thrown back into those years when my mother had screamed the same thing at me in order to control my actions and drive me into being her 24-hour nurse/husband. It was then I KNEW I had to get the fuck out of there. BUH-BYE.

After I begged Madame X’s forgiveness, Olga, having had enough of the opera, agreed to come with me and we got into a cab headed downtown. I managed to hold it together for about five minutes, after which I promptly puked all over the New York Post Olga had so thoughtfully bought with her newest pack of Marlbouroughs. I could see some guys in the next car over laughing their heads off as my body convulsed into a second heave. Not a fun moment.

While Olga took my giant German Sheppard for a walk I puked again in my very own porcelain toilet. According to Olga, my dog took the biggest shit she had ever seen a dog take. So big she had to dig in the trash several times for paper and plastic bags to pick it all up with, as I (selfishly) had managed to use up all of her newspaper with my vomit. Olga deserved a medal. Years later, we would talk about this night as if it were something hilarious that happened as opposed to horrible and tragic and I would laugh along with her while knowing inside it was, except for the moment in the pool, as disconnected as I had ever been. I don’t know, some people find pain funny.

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Cady McClain Ms. Cheevious ContributorABOUT CADY MCCLAIN
Cady McClain is a two-time Emmy winner for her work on “All My Children” and “As the World Turns.” In 2006 her blog, “Confessions of a Mad Soap Star” received over 2 million unique visitors. She is currently writing for ANDMagazine and Policymic.com as well as on her own website www.cadymcclain.com. She is also currently writing a memoir titled, “Murdering My Youth,” represented by Michelle Humphries at The Martha Kaplan Agency in NYC.

Check out her “Suzy F*cking Homemaker” and “Reading Twitter with Cady” videos and more at www.youtube.com/blueglitterfish.

OTHER RECENT ARTICLES BY CADY
Policymic.com: http://www.policymic.com/articles/7821/how-50-shades-of-grey-and-violent-porn-might-be-perverting-women-s-sexual-identity
ANDMagazine
:  http://www.andmagazine.com/content/phoenix/12289.html

MORE WAYS TO FIND CADY
Soap Comic Kickstarter Campaign with Mansion Comics:  http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/mansioncomics/whispering-hearts-an-illustrated-soap-opera-magazi
Web Site:  http://www.cadymcclain.com
YouTUBE: http://www.youtube.com/user/blueglitterfish
TUMBLR: http://cadymcclain.tumblr.com/
Twitter: @realcadymcclain and @HomemakerSuzyF
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/CadyMcClain

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All Blog content copyright 2012, LISA JEY DAVIS aka Ms. Cheevious

Filed Under: Celebrities, Chicky Fun, Girls Gone Wild, Girls Night Out, Uncategorized

Are You Ms. Cheevious?

June 10, 2012 by MsCheevious

The title of this article is literal. I really do want to know whether you embody all of the qualities of mischief, therefore making you a Ms. Cheevious girl or guy. But in asking the question “Are you Ms. Cheevious?” it makes me think of what would be a very clever slant to another article. That article would tell you all about how I was asked by an adoring fan whether I was the real Ms. Cheevious. Isn’t that just simply fabulous? Just the idea! But that means “Ms. Cheevious” would have to be super uber famous. So we’ll reserve that story for a day when the mysterious moniker of “Ms. Cheevious” is super uber famous. I can dream, can’t I? After all, unless people read the blog regularly, watch the videos on YouTube, follow on Facebook or actually click the pics on my Twitter profile, how would they really know what I look like? I use one of my paintings as my Avatar, for goddsakes! It could happen. The Ms. Cheevious avatar could become more famous than the me underneath and behind it all. Ahhhh, that’ll be the day people… and mark my words people, that day is coming. I’ll use this article title again. It will be the one and only time I will allow the use of a title more than once. But I digress.

As to the real question of “Are YOU Ms. Cheevious?” well, I can help you out there.  If you possess at least two of the below listed qualities of mischief, then you my dear are indeed a Ms. Cheevious guy or girl. Welcome to the fold.

But first, the definition (with Ms. Cheevious modifications, of course):

mis·chie·vous/ˈmisCHivəs/
Adjective:

  1. (of a person, animal, or their behavior) Causing or showing a fondness for causing trouble in a playful way: “two mischievous kittens”.

Noun:

  1. a person or animal who exhibits the qualities of the adjective (above), or who also exhibits any of its synonyms and the synonym’s synonyms.  “Mischievous (also pronounced MisCHEE-Vee-əs) loves company”

Synonyms:    naughty – impish – prankish – playful – wicked – rascally – puckish

THE LIST

 

1. You never get hangovers. It’s true. I’m told I have some extra enzyme in my blood that enables me to drink without getting hangovers (except on rare occasions – like this past Saturday night – hangover #2 in my entire life – when you mix Jameson’s Irish Whiskey, Coffee, Chardonnay, vodka martini, vodka tonics and “The Killer” from the Firehouse in Venice Beach (Vodka, Peach Liqueur, and Arnold Palmer – Iced Tea and Lemonade)).  The rare times you do get a hangover, it is a god-send. Otherwise, you would drink way too much, and all the time.

2. You have “blonde moments”. You do not have to be blonde to have these moments. This is true if you have ever phoned or texted someone and not recalled doing so (and not while tipsy), gone searching for your purse that was hanging on your arm all along (sunglasses sitting on your head, keys already in your hand – you get the picture), or forgotten where you parked, and were late to the next event because of it.

3. You are naughty AND nice. To you, all really IS fair in love and war.  You love breaking the rules, but not if it’s going to hurt someone else.

4. Your middle name is “Trouble”. You don’t just have a fondness for causing trouble.  It’s on your calling card.  And your reputation precedes you.  If there is fun to be had, and frivolity can possibly ensue, you are there to be sure the fun IS had by all, and frivolity commences immediately. You even have some friends who refuse to spend too much time with you, for fear this sort of “trouble” will rub off on them.

5. People feel good around you. You know how to make people feel special, and you derive much pleasure from doing so. You’ve been told that you make someone important feel good, calm, loved. This is key.

6. You have minions. Yes. If you have “people” who will make things happen for you, for others (on your behalf), for themselves (on your behalf — that’s the best one), then you have minions. Use them in good health.

7. You dress to impress. To impress yourself, your loves in life… whatever.  You care.

8. You’re sexy and you know it. You should have written the song, not LMFAO.  It should be your mantra. Party Rockin’ in the House Tonight!  Yes. You are comfortable in your own skin.  You feel sexy, therefore you are sexy. You know how to take care of yourself, and you do it.  But you also know how to cut loose and enjoy every moment.  Which leads me to the last item.

9. You Enjoy Every Moment. This means you will get the absolute most out of every single moment life has to offer.  And it’s not up for debate, like  “what about if someone dies?” Because… really?  If someone dies?  Everyone dies people. No one gets out of this thing alive. The trick is to enjoy every moment while you are still alive.  If there is a time to cry, by GOD you will cry your heart out and get the most out that too.  Enjoy.

Love you people! Mmmmmphhhuuuhhhhh!!!!!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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All Blog content copyright 2012, LISA JEY DAVIS aka Ms. Cheevious

Filed Under: Friends, Girls Gone Wild, Girls Night Out, Hip Chicks, Sheer Utter Silliness, Uncategorized Tagged With: avatar, Facebook, Firehouse, kittens, lisa jey, Lisa Jey Davis, LisaJeyDavis, LMFAO, Minions, mischief, moniker, Ms. Cheevious, MsCheevious, paintings, synonyms, uber, Venice Beach, Vodka

Half-Naked Dance Party

June 3, 2012 by Jewels

Boys and girls, Ms. Cheevious will be off galavanting around the world for the next several weeks. I’m sorry, I just don’t have time for the blog right now. It happens.  But I’ll be sure to post some fabulous pics from the road. To top it off, while I am  jet setting to Paris and Athens, my alter-ego Lisa Jey Davis is stuck at home in Southern California, but she is under the gun to actually FINISH the book she’s been laboring over.

In light of this, all my split personalities and I have asked a few select, and talented bloggers/writers we know to step in and write some guest posts.

First up: A lovely, talented dating and relationship blogger we love, According to Jewels. Sit back and ENJOY people!

xoxo Ms. Cheevious

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Anyone who follows me on Twitter (@According2Jewls) has no doubt seen my weekend tweets about my half-naked dance parties.

Half-Naked Dance Party

This is not mere titillation meant to gain more followers, though if it happens, I’m fine with that.

I actually enjoy a half-naked solo dance party on a regular basis. Think I’m crazy?  I beg to differ.  It is a ton of fun.

It is exactly what it sounds like. I strip down to my bra and panties (sexy, lacy ones of course) and pump up the music. This is typically accompanied by a glass of wine or two and a lot of laughing. My “Dance Party” playlist goes on shuffle and then it’s fun-and-games time. Those people who dance in their car while singing at the top of their lungs… yeah, I’m one of them. They (like me) don’t mind if someone sees them being silly. They know you can see them. They just don’t care.

Well, my dance party is a more private version of this.

There are times when this is my main event of the night: There’s no going out, and no real reason for said party, other than wanting to let lose. Those nights I may even slip into some sexy sleepwear and write between dance breaks. I’m typically writing posts for my adult blog during this time, and that side of Jewels loves her sexy time. What better way to get in the mood for writing about “adult topics” than to turn on some sultry tunes and slink my way around the room working my hips like a want to be Shakira? You write sexy when you feel sexy and I love doing both of those things.

Then there are times where my Half-Naked Dance Party (HNDP) is just the warm up for a night out. That is when I get a little crazy and do my ‘pump-up-the-volume’ or ‘pre-game’ rally to get ready for the night. Imagine me, glass of wine in hand, music turned up, throwing items around my closet, and searching through a mountain of shoes for the missing mate to my favorite pair of ‘goes with everything, super comfy’ heals. I will be singing along to “It Takes Two” by the infamous Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock while I apply eye shadow, liner, and mascara… finishing off with a shiny nude gloss. I promise that at some point the urge to truly dance (again) will overcome me and I’ll do that annoying “OH MY GOD, I LOVE THIS SONG,” drop my mascara wand and dance madly in my room alone. Yes, totally alone (I’m known to both talk to myself and dance totally alone).

The nights when my HNDP is that warm-up before going out, I always arrive at my destination feeling sexier and on top of the world. I just carry myself differently. I am fun, flirty, and a more fabulous version of myself.

On the nights when I simply stay in and write after a HNDP, you can believe I produce some seriously steamy, sexually driven, confident, powerful pieces those nights.

The important part is that I’m singing, dancing, smiling and happy the whole time. I’m enjoying myself and more importantly I’m enjoying being in my body. As somebody who hasn’t always been comfortable in my own skin, this is huge for me. When you haven’t always loved your body it’s amazing to embrace it, flaws and all, and feel sexy doing so. Half-Naked Dance Parties started out as a practice in learning to love my body, but now, well now they are just a crap ton of fun! 😉

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About our Guest: According to Jewels
According to Jewels is a writer/blogger who tackles topics ranging from relationships, sex, and dating, to being brutally honest in life and raising the bar on people’s behavior. Drawing from her own life experience and profiting from the dating/relationship drama of friends, she calls women/men out on their ridiculous behavior, sheds light on love/sex misconceptions, and entertains in the process. Read her two blogs at AccordingToJewels.com and Naughty-Nothings.net (an adult blog).  She can be reached at AccordingtoJewels@yahoo.com.

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Get on down here to post your questions and comments people! Let’s show Ms. Jewels your Ms. Cheevious support!

Love you people!!!!! Mmmmppphhhuuuhhhh!!!!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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All Blog content copyright 2012, LISA JEY DAVIS aka Ms. Cheevious


Filed Under: Chicky Fun, Girls Gone Wild, Girls Night Out, Hip Chicks, Single Life, Single Women, Uncategorized Tagged With: According to Jewels, According2Jewls, AccordingtoJewels, Half Naked Dance Party, HNDP

Sh*t Girls Say — If They’re Ms. Cheevious

March 15, 2012 by MsCheevious

I’ll admit. I had to do it. I cannot watch something like “Shit Girls Say,” which is so hysterically funny without thinking, ‘HOLY CRAP that sounds an awful lot like a sweeter version of me!’ I’m sure that’s what was intended.

But I think I’m pretty funny. Is that bad?  I’m pretty harmless in my narcissistic view of my hilariousness. I simply crack myself up. What harm is there in that? I’m sure I turn some heads as I walk past folks in the market or on the street chuckling out loud at something I just said out loud to myself, but who is it hurting? That’s all I wanna’ know.  A little nuttiness never hurt anyone.  As a matter of fact, my man M.C. Nugget and I make a habit of exhibiting nutty and weird behavior on a regular basis.

Before I get rolling on that whole tangent, let me get to the point of this post.  I think you will really laugh (or at the very least, mildly chuckle) at the first clip I have for you – my muse, if you will, when it came to putting together “Shit Girls Say if They’re Ms. Cheevious”… And then you’ll see that very video (and either laugh, cry, or mildly chuckle).

The difference between the two is that the first was professionally produced.  It was also scripted and performed by a dude in a chick’s wig, who is very funny, alongside a star – like – um, JULIETTE LEWIS.  You’ll know her when you see her.

My clip is REAL SHIT. Things I said without being prompted, which were caught on video.

After you’ve enjoyed both of these short clips, I have a little project we can ALL participate in.

I’d like for you to help me write a new video via the COMMENTS section on this post, which WILL be scripted and performed by a few of my best and hottest gal pals (also actresses). It will be called Shit Ms. Cheevious Girls say.  If we get some great phrases here, when it is up on YouTube, I will enable ads on the video, and any proceeds made from those ads we’ll donate to a charity of our choice (we’ll vote on that when the time comes).

Watch, Enjoy, and put your thinking caps on.  I’ll throw out some suggestions after the clips to get the ball rolling in your brains.

SHIT GIRLS SAY, EPISODE 1

If you can’t see the above Youtube window in your browser, please click here

SHIT GIRLS SAY – IF THEY’RE MS. CHEEVIOUS

Again, if you can’t view the above video window in your browser, click here

BEFORE YOU COMMENT:

Now, in terms of coming up with comments.  This video will be scripted, and I’d like to use my “Girls” as some inspiration.  By that I mean the girls in my paintings, which you can see some of them here on my website (left border) or those I will actually use are here: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150193003761734.291906.119215056733&type=3.

The “Girls” all have names, and I’d like to give them personalities.  If you’re inclined feel free to specify who would “say” your comment.  I’ll hand pick some gorgeous girlfriends who are also actresses to represent some of the girls and act these out.  Here are some ideas that have been thrown around for Shit Ms. Cheevious Girls Say, and remember:  You MUST think Ms. Cheevious-ly.  And think about all areas of life – health, fitness, medical, career, leisure, entertainment.  Whatever!  And remember:  Ms. Cheevious girls are EMPOWERED, INDEPENDENT, LOVING, FUN girls.  So here are just a couple to get you started!

1.  Does this dress make me look too skinny?

2. Do you remember that thingy that I wanted to BLOG about?

3. O.M.G. Girlfriend!!!!

4. AAAAAAAHHHHHH (screaming & jumping up and down because they find JAMESON’S or Grey Goose Vodka on sale at the grocery store).

5. Dude your boobs look GOOD in that!

If you want to see more specific phrases that we are USING, I’m compiling them on a private note on Facebook, and can share them upon request.  Just ask! Now put your minds into high gear, and let’s all create a really FANTASTIC video, shall we?  You will get credit (you’ll be credited as you are listed here on the blog, if we use your quote) in the video credits, so get rolling.  Put those ultra witty, razor sharp, naughty, nice, sweet, funny thoughts down below!  I can’t wait!

Then, boys and girls, stay tuned next time for something entirely different.

Love you people!!!!! Mmmmmmppppphhhuuuhhhh!!!!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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All Blog content copyright 2012, LISA JEY DAVIS aka Ms. Cheevious

Filed Under: Blogroll, Chicky Fun, Dating, Friends, Friendship, Girls Gone Wild, Girls Night Out, Hip Chicks, Living Life, Relationships, Sex, Sheer Utter Silliness, Single Women, Uncategorized, Work and Career Tagged With: Juliette Lewis, Ms. Cheevious, Ms. Cheevious Girls, Shit Girls Say

The OFFICIAL X-Factor

March 5, 2012 by MsCheevious

 

I apologize in advance, but this is not a review of the popular television show The X Factor starring Simon Cowell. You will not find any content about singers or performers here.  No, my little devlish ones, this post is about the OFFICIAL X-Factor, and stars one Ms. Nawty Norski, but the only singing going on in this post, well – there is none.  You can hum along to “Oh Sweet Mystery of Life” if you’d like (look it up you rug-rats that don’t know what I’m talking about, sheesh! Look specifically for clips of the late Madeline Kahn belting out a few bars of it in the classic favorite, and hilarious film “Young Frankenstein”).

Over the recent Valentine’s Day holiday, a gal pal of mine, Ms. Nawty Norski, posed the following question, which is the essence of this post – The OFFICIAL X-Factor:

Can women successfully rekindle the flames of love and passion, or more importantly, have healthy relationships with X-boyfriends?

It came about because an X of Nawty’s got back in touch suddenly,  for no apparent reason. He is an X from years ago, who was far too immature to give her what she desired from a relationship back in the day. That’s why it ended in the first place.

In his most recent communications, X-Man seemed interested to pick things up from their most intimate of stopping points, professing a newfound maturity that was obviously amiss in years past.

She remained a bit ambivalent about the matter, but was willing to consider the merits of the situation, should Mr. X deliver the goods he was promising (those “goods,” aside from his newfound maturity, well they’re a bit x-rated. You see, Ms. Norski sent around a Nawty-Note for Valentine’s Day about how women are only interested in men who possess some very – ehem – specific qualities.  Not all physical, mind you.  One of those qualities was fiduciary. Well, Mr. X, who’d already been trying to “reconnect,” as it were, responded in the affirmative to her Nawtiness). Being the adventurous, mscheevious, inquisitive, fun-loving gal that Nawty is, she spent the evening at his home on Valentines Day. Nothing serious happenend, but she was not convinced. She asked me to pose it to you – my lovely readers. What do you think?

(Above image “borrowed” from http://furniturestoretoronto.blog.com/ex-boyfriend-quotes/)

Can we women overlook the hurt, pain, confusion and/or frustration (even disinterest) of the past with an X-boyfriend, husband or otherwise, and hope to engage in a fulfilling, fun, adventurous, positive relationship experience today?

Tell us what you think you wise, razor-sharp boys and girls. I am waiting with bated breath. And Ms. Norski? She’s holding hers. So hurry it up. The clock’s ticking. And you don’t have to join any email list to comment below, so you have no excuse. Feel free to advise Ms. Nawty Norski in your comment.

I’m going to post the most creative, fun, interesting, random or weird comment in my blog next time, so get to it, and use that wicked-smart wit and brain-power you’ve been given.

That’s all for today, but I’m in Mammoth Mountain ski resort as I type this, so you’ll be seeing another couple of videos from me very soon. Sorry. The nuttiness WILL forge on.

Love you people!  Mmmmmppphhhuuuuhhhh!!!!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Don’t Be Shy! Leave A Reply!

Register to receive my blog posts via email on the Ms. Cheevious Home page. (Be sure to confirm when you receive your email!)

BECOME ONE OF MY MANY FOLLOWERS (MWAH HA HA HA) IN ALL OF THESE GREAT PLACES:

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You can also follow my man M.C. Nugget on Twitter

All Blog content copyright 2012, LISA JEY DAVIS aka Ms. Cheevious

Filed Under: Chicky Fun, Dating, Girls Gone Wild, Girls Night Out, Hip Chicks, Relationships, Sex, Single Life, Single Women, Uncategorized Tagged With: Dating Your X, Nawty Norski, Relationship, X-Factor

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