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Who is that guy?

Are you kidding me right now?

May I please speak to Amanda?
This is she.
This is Greg calling from the Ellen DeGeneres Show.
HI! How are you?
I am fine, and you?
Great.
Have you been to a taping of Ellen before?
Nope!
I have two tickets for you for December 19th.
(Screams, Jumps, Cheers, Hoorays, More Unintelligible Noises, etc., etc.)
Is it for one of the Christmas shows? (How Non-PC)
Yes. It is a scheduled Holiday Show. (How PC)

That is how it all sounded last night, when I got the call from NBC. For those of you who are not familiar with the Ellen show, right around the Holiday season, Ellen holds her 12 Days of Giveaways! I am going! Myself and my extraordinary amazing super fantastic friend will be traveling to the distant city of Burbank to see the taping! I can't wait! Oh my GAWD!!!

Post to be continued...

New Blog Post Arrives Today

It has been almost 2 weeks, since I have had the opportunity to post. The Holiday rush and fever is already upon me. Must shop. Must cook. Must decorate. I actually love to do all three and just haven't had anything super exciting to blog about lately. But, we are all still here awaiting our next Pug gig or for Olivia to finally recite the Gettysburg Address.

The husband and I have decided to enter the Pugs in their next agility trial in mid January. We are hoping Quentin will choose to remain in the ring, despite the new fabulous smells that will tempt his senses. We are however, quite certain that Delilah will run at her usual slow steady pace and will be very content when it is finally time to go home and lay on the couch.

Our phony Christmas tree is already standing with lights and is sporting some of the same hand carved ornaments that my folks collected while they were in Europe over 25 years ago. I am always surprised that the wooden creations still spark the same feelings in me that they did when I was little. Even though the paper mache Santa is missing his eyes and the angles have slight chips in their wings, they adorn our tree so gracefully. Olivia is mesmerized by the twinkles and continues to exclaim her oooh's and ahhh's with utter delight. Imagine that... Imagine waking from a nap only to find that a tree has sprouted in the living room! Not only a tree, but a tree with dangling doodads, tiny lamps, and a shiny star on top. How incredible! And just with that my Holiday season is already complete.

I will take Timeless Novels for $200.

Which kind of person are you? I am the kind that always pretends to know what a word means when the person I am speaking with says something that I have never heard before. I always nod in agreement pretending to speak the same language and hoping I will not be found out. Damon on the other hand is much different. Damon always stops the conversation to ask the meaning of a specific word in a cluster of rambling sentences. I always think to myself, wow, he must appear pretty stupid to the average conversation goer. There I am imagining what the other person might be thinking, while I myself am still pretending to know definitions that are way beyond my scope of knowledge. So who exactly is the stupid one?

Right now, Damon has decided to read many of the classics that you dread reading in school. He has finished Moby Dick and a few others along the way and has now made it to The Scarlet Letter. Demi Moore is in that one right? He seems to really be enjoying each page of his latest adventure, and I am not only in awe of his accomplishment but inspired by his determination. As I write this right now, Jeopardy is blaring in the background, and my husband is spewing out answers about the Great Gatsby and Noah's Ark, and he even occasionally gets one right. Where did I find him? These days Parents Magazine and the highly acclaimed SCV Insider are all that keep my attention. Maybe if I rub Damon's head something will seep into me.

The 5 Second Rule

According to Wikipedia, the 5 second rule applies to foods that have fallen to the ground. The great pedia goes on to explain that normally, customary rules of hygiene dictate that food that has fallen to the ground should be discarded in order to prevent ingestion of disease-causing agents acquired from the dirty surface. The rule states that if the food is picked up within five seconds, it can still be eaten. For the most part our family is a strong believer in this commandment. However, 5 seconds has a whole new meaning to me after this weekend.

My daughter seems to be following in the footsteps of her great Papa Hills. Much like her Dada, she encompasses not only the tenacity for getting what she wants when she wants it, but has the temper to match. On a side note, the poor thing has been ill this weekend, engaging in the battles of usual childhood illness'--stuffy nose, fever, and general tend toward fussiness. However, this Saturday was like no other.

After being simply unable to comprehend her father's incessant need to change her out of her dirty clothes, Miss Fuss launched herself into her usual red face, breath holding, angry muscle clenching stance. In a desperate attempt to reach yours truly, she bumped her mouth, oh so gently on my knee. As if changing her clothes wasn't bad enough, right? Fuss E. Pott then gulped for another breath of air, only to find that she was possessed by her own hysteria. As I tried desperately to console her, I noticed her lips turning blue and her head beginning to slump back onto her shoulders. Just like that she was out. That is right, out. I grabbed her into my arms and for 5 of the most horrifying seconds of my life, I tried to wake her. She was limp. She was not breathing. She was gone.

Without warning and almost as fast as she had disappeared, Olivia was back. Her screams had turned to only whimpers and her face seemed puzzled and confused by the event that had just transpired. As we headed out the door to the local pediatric urgent care, I imagined future trips to the hospital and thought about how both she and I would endure the numerous tests that would surely have to be done. We raced into the medical building, and somewhat panicked, told the gal in the front office what had happened only minutes before. Insurance card, she replied. Not even a please. As Miss Fuss sucked on her pacifier contently, she admired the large television that was blaring Shrek in the waiting room. We handed over our very important card, waited several minutes and explained the situation to the unconcerned and very seasoned nurse. In moments, she described that this could be a common occurrence if Olivia learns to create this empowering spectacle on her own. On her own, I thought. What? My child is going to pass out at will, if she looses her temper? My, my, this is not what I had signed up for. As the nurse left the room, we heard her proclaim to the doctor, Vaso Vagal, room 3. Turns out, that is the response the body has when all of the blood travels to the head, leaving the heart no option but to reduce it's rate of pumping so low that the person passes out.

Rather than cry, I will choose to laugh. I will choose to use all 5 of these seconds to add to the list of stories I will tell her, when she is old enough to appreciate and laugh at herself. I will choose to now call her Vaso Vagal, instead of Olivia Hannah, in an attempt to get me through just one more day.

In Due Time

Today we went to the zoo. Yep, that is right. We packed up all ten tons of stuff we "needed" and headed to the Los Angeles Zoo. Mind you, in my hay day, I was a law abiding animal rights activist who bravely yelled out the window at the Barnum and Bailey's Circus and stood in front of Target superstores hounding former customers to sign petitions that would stop the use of steel traps. Me set foot in an "animal prison"--never. But, there I was today, glaring at the bear, gibbons, and tigers, attempting to ignore how they might look and feel different in the wild. It is amazing how one can completely twist their once daunting views of the world and begin to justify something they were so strongly against.

Maybe they are better off at the zoo, safe from predators, poachers, and the destruction of their natural habitats. Maybe they don't realize and remember the difference between their old and new living quarters. Maybe animals don't have the capacity to feel sorry for themselves. Someone even told me once that animals don't feel pain because they have no conscience. Anyone who has ever been lucky enough to be owned by a dog knows that isn't true. Ultimately, I believe my knew acceptance of the zoo boils down to one thing. You guessed it, my daughter. Watching her recognize a lion or a monkey or a bird for the first time and being amazed and excited that she is able to communicate her knowledge with me is unexplainable. A feeling I will never be able to describe for you in a blog. She has plenty of time to learn about man's inhumanity and imposition on the world around him. For now, I will just do my best to shelter and enjoy her innocence.

How much for the Green One?

Is it 2:00 yet? Lunch was good. The soup was a little salty though. I bet I could play Jingle Bells on her xylophone? Did I spell xylophone right? Hey, sounds like Jingle Bells. How did that happen? It is already 1:40. We better get going. Hi. Olivia is here for her haircut. OK. Lisa will take care of you. Why is she fussing? She did just fine the last time. Don't cry. Here is Dora. Do you want to see Dora? Oh, what about this cat in the funny black costume. Look at him. Do you want to drive the hot pink car? What do cars say? vroom....vroom....this isn't working. Should we just give up? How old is Lisa? Am I getting a complex about my age? Every post mentions age. She couldn't be more than 16. How does that look? Are her bangs to short? Well, you probably couldn't fix that now anyway, right? That will be $22. Did she just say $22? She only cut 3 hairs! Does Lisa know she is only 1? Really, $22? Can she have a balloon? Please, we need something for $22. Here is a red one. Don't let the balloon go. Oh no, if she lets the balloon go, I will have to hear it the whole way home. Let mama hold the balloon. OK, we are home. Are those still the sweet potatoes that I spilled on the garage door months ago? Lazy sweet potatoes.

1921

My 86 year-old father recently stayed with us for roughly 5 days. That time seemed to reinforce for me just how little it is that I have experienced. As my dad described a conversation that he had had with a man from the phone company, he explained that he was only 30 or so, so what the hell would he know.

No one seems to know better than he, how to put things into perspective. He is my go to guy, whenever I am sweating small stuff like a job interview, intense social interaction, or financial decision. In his opinion, most things are very small. He even has a song he sings to me that somehow always makes me laugh, even when I am sobbing uncontrollably. I would sing the song to you all, but I might be kicked off blog spot for the unnecessary use of profanity.

My dad is rude, crass, and always says what everyone else is thinking. For some reason though, I always slap him on the arm and pretend to be offended, even though I was thinking the very same offensive thing. He has truly witnessed the change in the times, has experienced the change in himself, and struggled with the changes in others. As he often reminds me, I will never know what it is that he has already forgotten. Wow, does he really say that? Yes he does, and we usually both chuckle afterward.

Who knows, he is probably correct, but for right now it just seems that I am too young to know much of anything but old enough to realize just how little it is that I do know.

Boo Hinnies!

Be Afraid....Be Very Afraid!

Best Friends

By far the best YouTube video to date.



I could watch it over and over. Oh wait, I already have.

Evolution

You would never expect that on some days, if someone offered you a diamond tennis bracelet or for her 7:00pm bedtime to come now that you would choose the bedtime.

You would never expect that her routine blood draw would hurt you more than labor pains.

You would never expect that you were secretly happy when your little pink octopus pushed that fairy kid out of her way, after that fairy kid had cut off your octopus.

You would never expect to stare into a monitor that your husband had to have and that you thought was stupid at the time, at least 3 times during the night.

In fact, you would never expect to stare into the monitor at all, since she wasn't making a sound, and you are only one door down the hall.

Good thing the monitor is in color, who knows when she may decide to climb out of her crib and change her pajamas on her own.

You would never expect that eating dinner at 4:30pm was just as delicious as it is at 7:00pm. Doesn't everyone eat dinner at 4:30pm?

You would never expect to finally understand why it was that your own mother was simply unable to tell you to have a good time, without having to mention every possible disaster which may befall you.

You would never expect to not even notice your own reflection in the mirror when she is in your arms.

You would never expect to think that 5 pacifiers in her crib was not excessive.

You would never expect to discover that every aspect of your being would change when she was born.

I do.

We arrived at the rehearsal on-time, at 4:15 in the afternoon, only to be met by Joel, a producers Boxer, Dyson, and Gracie, an ancient best of all breeds 9 year-old therapy dog, who was ready to retire before she arrived on set. We were instructed to immediately dress for the show and prepare for the two plus hour rehearsal. So there we were, Quentin in his veil and Delilah with her top hat, which kept falling to the side, making her look somewhat less than debonair. Simply put the pugs were amazing. In no time at all they walked on set, costume on, and stood staring into the camera, longing for the tiny morsel of food that was to meet their lips, as soon as the producer shouted clear. We were set and on for the next day at 2:00am.

I rushed home only to sit in the usual traffic on the 170 at 6:30 in the evening. With the pugs passed out in the back seat, I phoned the usual suspects and described the events that would occur the following morning. Home I went, where I downed a Benedryl, swallowed what remained of my lunch, and off to bed I went. At 10:30 I awoke. Waiting for my alarm to sound at 1:30, I got up early, dressed, in clean clothes this time, and headed out in the still filthy Scion. Of course, wait, you guess. What could possibly go wrong already? You are wrong. Guess again. Wrong again. Alright, I will tell you. Yup...that is right, no gas! We pulled into the local Shell station where the neighborhood gangster wannabees stood loitering in front of the Del Taco gas station combo. I jammed $10 into the tank and away we went.

As we pulled into the driveway, the hot model boy from the day before was in the lot smoking his cigarette on his skateboard. Still somewhat nice looking, at least for two in morning, he muttered, you here for the shoot? Yes, I proclaimed, you? Trying to sound cool and not seem like the crazy lady with the 2 untrained pugs, I acted like this was a regular thing for us. Wait, that wouldn't be so cool either, huh? Oh well, later to play the highly proclaimed role of Bartholomew Jojo Simpson, the strung out boy skated away down the street.

Blah. Blah. Blah. It was finally time to shoot. Delilah began her duck quacking noise as soon as the cameras began to role. Kim, now looking not so sophisticated in her faded jeans and Croc thongs, wanted to know why Delilah seemed so grumpy. I thought...hmmmm....let me count the ways....did she realize it was 3 in the morning, freezing cold and incredibly miserable on her hope to be Oscar worthy set, which consisted of 2 candles, a dozen underpaid "actors" and 3 pumpkins. Not even nice pumpkins, but pumpkins oddly shaped with no stems. Don't say it Amanda. Don't do it. Oh, I chuckled, she is not grumpy. She is just breathing hard because she is excited about all of the action.

So, by 3:45am the camera was rolling, and yes, Delilah continued the duck noises throughout the morning. By daylight, I had been hit on by the plus sized Elvis, had consumed numerous cups of coffee and the cold eggs from Dupars, and had begged the pugs on numerous occasions to do their personal business outside of the studio. Stop. You have to picture this Elvis. After trying to rally myself and the other actors to walk off the set, in hopes to gain an additional fifty or so dollars, he commented on several occasions how I might look in the tight fitting Princess Leia outfit. Why doesn't she wear that costume, he questioned as he looked over to me and raised his Elvis brow. Thankfully, after the 24 live news feeds to various stations throughout the country were filmed, we were dismissed.

Oh no, don't think it is over. I am still awaiting my payment and was also recently contacted by Kim's assistant, who wanted to know if I had, in fact, "accidentally taken the bride and groom costumes by mistake." I wish I had. I wish had, because I need some sort of souvenir to remind me of my day in the life of a movie star.

See Pugs in Drag Now!

Pug Stars x 2?

Thank you to Elaine, who passed my name along to Hollywood Paws. I received a call from "Joel," who was looking for 2 pugs to sit in front of a live news feed in silly costumes at 2 in the morning. Yep, you guessed it. He found our Quentin and Delilah. Today was our first audition, which went something like this....

It was so comical, right out of a bad movie. I arrived somewhere on Olympic in Los Angeles at about 1pm today. When I got there, all I saw was immense office buildings and high powered 30 something executives in power suits, high heels, and a bit too much lipstick, passing me by at a record pace. I stepped out of Damon's filthy Scion with my two misbehaved canines and headed for the only tiny patch of grass within miles, which was unfortunately located directly in front of an overpriced bistro. The patrons looked on as Quentin and Delilah found the perfect spot, assumed the position, and released last nights dinner. TMI?

Dressed for the occasion in my own filthy jeans and ancient zip up sweatshirt, I waited patiently until Joel, the dog trainer, and his sidekick arrived 20 or so minutes late. Thankfully, they were very easy going and seemed pleased enough with the pugs at their initial glance. They then informed me that the building we were entering was "not too dog friendly," and they asked that I carry not one pug through the building but both! I scooped them up and rushed them past the guard, who made sure to inform me that dogs were not allowed in the building. Joel and his buddy bantered back that these were "professionals, who were working." I thought to myself, hmmmmm, guess this means we got the job, if we were in fact, already "working." We crammed into the elevator, closely situated next to the cocker spaniel, who was dressed in 50's attire, and scooted out into an entire floor of the office building. The pugs seemed to slide across the marble floors, when I noticed the executives in their uptight meeting, where I am sure they were accomplishing almost as much as I was today. And, yes, they noticed us.

We were then quickly rushed into a dressing room where male model/actors were changing into costumes for their next significant role as Homer Simpson or Mr. Burns. The pugs were then asked to undress, and in the nude, they stood waiting for their costume fittings. Unfortunately, Quentin was a bit large for the highly sophisticated grooms costume, but seemed to fit nicely in the bride's dress, which is very lacy and feminine, I might add. Then after Kim, the head of the production who knew nothing about dogs and who seemed to be playing Meryl Streep's character in The Devil Wears Prada, deemed Quentin beautiful, Delilah was fitted for a new tuxedo, which will be hunted down prior to tomorrows rehearsal by the poor assistant of this obnoxious Kim woman. Well they seemed to be passing, I thought. Is this a good thing, I began to wonder, as the dog trainer dressed as a priest now, attempted to stroll the happy pug couple down the aisle for the final round of the audition. Kim watched carefully criticizing every move, asking me if they would make noise on set. Of course not, I stated confidently out loud, but secretly giggled inside. A tiny piece of me was even hoping that Quentin would lift his leg on her designer pants.

She then proclaimed that there will be instances, when the pugs are unable to see their "mom." Kim then headed over to Quentin and Delilah and explained that she would now stand in front of them to block me from their view. All 90 pounds and 6 feet of her walked over and stood in front of the pugs, who keep in mind, were only 5 feet away from me! They looked at her, I looked at them, and I was certain we were thinking the same thing. She then stepped away and announced that they would work. So, the job we have! Myself and the 2 trainers left the building after they had spent all of their quarters, pumping them into the meter so that I wouldn't get the filthy Scion towed. We all had a good laugh as we exited the elevator and agreed to meet tomorrow for the final rehearsal at 4:15pm, which shoots prior to the filming at 2:00am.