LA Adventures: Part Three

After all the excitement with the Day of Days, my California girl and the young Jews, I slept later than I thought was possible for me to sleep anymore. Then I realized I had an entire day to kill in LA until DJ’s arrival that night. After a quick but effective workout that would’ve made Ali Sweeney proud, I decided to take a cab to Melrose since I had never made it past the Beverly Center.

I expected Melrose Avenue to be all high end shops, palm trees and maybe some fountains or something with celebrities frolicking with bottles of champagne. Instead, it looked like pretty much any other street in LA with some cool boutiques and the infamous Fred Segal, which Sydney made sure I did not miss. I was starving and the cab driver dropped me off oh so far away from any restaurants. I walked for what seemed like miles before I found a coffee shop full of incredibly cool people. I proceeded to eat half a sandwich sloppily and bang my head on a dangly light when I stood up, thus proving that I was not as cool as anyone else in there, the screenplay writers or out of work actors.

I’m still not sure how it happened. One minute I was walking down the street, thrilled with yet another cheap BCBG dress purchase ($39 people!), texting Mr. W and contemplating a Starbucks stop. The next minute I found myself playing Barbie doll to the gayest man- or, perhaps, the best actor- I had ever met. He had come running out of his shop and grabbed me, insisting that I come check out his store and that I was made to wear his clothes. He immediately pulled out a pair of skinny jeans and I laughed my big ass off. I had never tried on skinny jeans for a reason. I am not skinny. I am not fat, and I have grown to love my big, juicy butt. But skinny jeans are for twigs, and no one will ever mistake me for a twig.

He begged me to try them on, murmuring, "Trust me baby, trust me" so I humored him. He tossed over boots, a top and a jacket, calling me sexy and gorgeous and every other nice female name. I stepped out of the dressing room and couldn’t believe what I saw. How this man had known what would look good on me was beyond me, but he did. By the time he led me in a dance across the store, I was in love… although, still very confused.

Gay man/good actor had his associate find the tiniest, shortest dress I had ever seen in my life. He made me try it on. Then he made me take my panties off so I wouldn’t have panty lines. The dress was ridiculous. I wouldn’t even wear it in Vegas. Hell, I don’t even know if I’d wear it in the bedroom. But I had to begrudgingly admit it looked pretty good. The next dress he had me try on was completely see-through, but I couldn’t tell when I put it on. I stepped out, looked in the big mirror, and realized I was flashing my vagina to Melrose Avenue. I screamed, grabbed a sweater, covered my butt and ran back to the dressing room.

“I already saw it, baby,” the man said simply. “Why are you so shy?”

Later, I left with a new winter coat, a jacket reminiscent of Michael Jackson and, yes, the skinny jeans. I left my dignity behind. At that point, I decided to cab it back to my hotel before risking another fiasco. It was getting dark and the weirdos were coming out in droves.

I went back to the room, tried to cram all my shopping hauls into my suitcase, got ready, and planned an awesome evening for DJ and me. He had never been to LA so I wanted to make sure he had a good time. DJ had worked that day and was driving all the way from Sacramento. By 9 PM, I was starving, bored, and tired of looking cute alone in my hotel room. So I went down to the lobby bar and had a pear martini for an “appetizer.” It worked. By the time he arrived, I was very buzzed.

I have admitted before to being somewhat biased when it comes to men. I have never, and probably never will, get into my reasons. I am not a man hater by any means. I have an amazing husband, wonderful male friends, and love all the husbands and boyfriends of the women in my life. I just don’t go out of my way to make guy friends and I confess that sometimes they have to work harder to earn my trust (something I’m not proud of). But DJ and I had a connection from the day we met. We hit it off immediately and have been good friends for years, despite the fact that he moved so far away and we don’t keep in touch like we should. I hadn’t seen him in almost three years but the second he showed up, it was like we had never been apart.

Despite downing three Five Hour Energy shots, DJ was exhausted and I quickly realized our awesome night out in LA would probably kill him. He also said he wasn’t hungry and I wasn’t about to eat alone. We walked to City Walk and decided to just keep drinking. The only bar without a long line was The Rumba Room. DJ and I are neither Latin nor dancers, but we had fun watching those who were. One giant double Grey Goose and Cranberry later and I had not a problem in the world and was over-sharing like mad. Luckily, DJ has heard it all before and he was very patient.

We soon realized we were not rock stars and headed back to the hotel bar, where we had a nightcap before stumbling off to our respective rooms. Despite being exhausted, being drunk and sans Mr. W made it almost impossible to fall asleep. I must have drifted off at some point, though, because I woke up in standard hangover position: one foot on the floor, eyes clamped shut, room spinning, inexplicable craving for water and greasy food. I have friends who drink dinner regularly and I applaud them. I won’t attempt it again.

Turns out, DJ was already awake and also hungover. We checked out and he carried my 45 pound suitcase to his car like a gentleman. We explored Hollywood for awhile before having crepes at a restaurant at Hollywood and Highlands. Then we did touristy stuff, taking pictures of the Hollywood sign, Grauman’s Chinese Theater and Paramount Pictures. With just a few hours left, I had one more goal: to see the ocean. We headed back to the car and drove to Venice Beach.

Venice Beach is amazing and beautiful. As soon as we parked, I knew I wouldn’t want to leave… not the beach, not LA, and not DJ. DJ reminds me of a time in my life that, while I’m far removed from now, is fun to visit in memories. Without revealing too much, he’s not in the best place in his life right now and I could tell he isn’t as happy as he used to be. As we caught up, walking along the pier, looking at the beautiful people, I tried my best to cheer him up. I hope he knows his situation is temporary and how bright his future can be once he makes the necessary changes. Oh, and we can neither confirm nor deny that we saw a crazed Gary Busey hang his head out a window, cigar in mouth, and yell something at an overly tanned gentleman on a cell phone. Only in LA.

Before long, it was time for me to go to the airport. DJ dropped me off early, carrying my suitcase right up until I checked in, and headed out to battle LA traffic on his way back to Sacramento. Before boarding the plane, I put on my new winter coat from the fabulous gay man. I spent the next few hours rehydrating myself, looking at my pictures and being grateful for the amazing experience I’d just had. Finally, at 1 am, I opened the door to my house and tiptoed past the dog, who was vibrating with excitement. I left my luggage in the hallway, put my pajamas on and slipped into bed with Mr. W. He rolled over, muttered something and put his arms around me. Dexter, too excited at my return to follow the rules, jumped up in bed and laid his head next to me, nudging himself under my hands. Lying there between my two favorite guys, it was almost like I’d never left. But I did… I took an amazing trip to a city I didn’t expect to love so much, a city I already miss and can’t wait to return to for another awesome adventure.

LA Adventures: Part Two

The very first time I ever laid eyes on my husband… long before we started dating… my heart skipped a beat, the entire room got quiet, and everyone else disappeared for a few moments. I had never had anything like that happen to me before and had no idea what it meant at the time. On Saturday, November 7, when I walked past the hoards of people into the press room, it happened for the second time.

Believe it or not, I’m not easily star struck. Don’t get me wrong, the times when I’ve met celebrities have been pretty awesome. I’ve realized what a blessing it was and have gushed to them about how much I love their work, but in the end, I know we’re all just people and being an actor or musician doesn’t make anyone a god. But when I got past security, put my press pass on and saw Bill and Susan Seaforth Hayes sitting on a couch in the Samba Café, then saw Shelly Henning and Lauren Koslow standing a few feet away, it was all over. It wasn’t only because these were people I had been watching on Days for years. It was because, for the first time in my life, I was finally able to go to something like this with press credentials for something I did all on my own. I still have a long way to go, but the validation I felt that morning was pretty spectacular.

I had been awakened by DJ Tiesto on my Blackberry as well as a Spanish tune on the hotel alarm clock. I had showered and gotten dressed very calmly, like I was going to have brunch with my friends instead of interviewing my favorite soap stars. It was only when I was making my way through City Walk that it hit me and I got so excited and nervous. Then, as I stood at the entrance waiting for confirmation that I could enter the press room, some fans started taking pictures of me thinking I must “be somebody.” I laughed when I pictured them Googling me or trying to find me on the show.

I hit the ladies’ room before the interviews began and, as I entered, I came face to face with Alison Sweeney. I grinned at her like an idiot as she slowly backed away from the crazy girl in the blue dress. I have adored that girl since 1993. I think she’s a phenomenal actress, an amazing mom and the perfect host of the Biggest Loser. I texted my mom from the stall: “I just saw Sami Brady! OMG!”

On my way out, I ran into Jay Kenneth Johnson, Mark Hapka and Casey Deidrick, who asked if I was having a good day so far.
“Pretty much the best day ever,” I said, trying and failing to wipe the smile off my face. I sat beside William, an awesome guy who works for Soap Opera Source, and Stacy, who runs the blog www.seriouslyomg.com. They were locals and used to things like this. They were both very patient with me, the novice.

Our first interviews were with Shelly Henning and Mark Hapka, who play Stephanie and Nathan on the show. Their characters aren’t together but there are definitely sparks, and seeing them together made me want them together on the show. They were both sweet and very gracious, and when William had them sign the autograph book, Mark commented on Shelly’s picture.

“Look at you! That’s so hot!” he said. “I look like a dork in my picture, grinning by a tree!” Shelly can’t help herself. No matter what she wears or how she poses, she is one of the most beautiful women in the world. I can honestly say that those people are as beautiful in person as they are on TV.

Suzanne Rogers, who plays Maggie on the show, is a veteran whose acting I’ve always admired. She and Molly Burnett, who plays Melanie, were both delightful. They have a real mother-daughter bond that is just adorable. It became clear to me throughout the day that these actors really do get along and enjoy what they do. It also became clear that I am the luckiest bastard on Earth.

Eric Martsolf and Lindsay Hartley were also amazing to meet as I watched them for years on Passions and now get to watch them together on Days. They both have beautiful spouses in real life, but man… those two would make gorgeous babies. The first thing Lindsay said to me was that I smelled good and Eric asked for my Twitter name. Awesome. They were so down to Earth, but so pretty to look at it was hard to maintain eye contact. Eric showed us pictures of his twins on his phone, beautiful little blond haired boys.

Meanwhile, fans crowded outside trying to get glimpses of their favorite soap stars. They were writing notes and trying to press themselves up against the glass. I have a feeling the back of my head is going to be in a ton of pictures.

As lunch neared, William, Stacy and I became nervous. We were supposed to meet Alison Sweeney and Galen Gering before lunch, but time was running short. We all agreed that we wouldn’t give up until we got to interview them. Just as they were about to sit down with us, Alison’s kids showed up with the nanny to have lunch with her. Ben and Megan are unbelievably cute and Ben ran straight into his mommy’s arms. I snapped a couple of pics to show Mr. W, but promised I wouldn’t put them online.

Ali and Galen did finally sit down with us and instead of our usual ten minutes, we got almost twenty. I’d really like to say some of these people were assholes just to break up the monotony of this piece, but they were nice as could be. Since the press room had quieted down and others had left for lunch, I recorded my interview with Ali and Galen and could hear them pretty clearly. It was amazing being able to talk to a woman I have admired for 2/3 of my life as well as one of my favorite actors from Passions who now does an amazing job on Days. Ali and Galen are involved in one of the most complicated, gut-wrenching, intense storylines in the show’s history and their acting is incredible. They both complimented each other as well as the rest of the cast for being so supportive.

Eventually, we were torn away from these amazing people and went to the Hard Rock where we were supplied a free lunch. I texted everyone I know, bragging my ass off, while I picked William and Stacy’s brains about which actors are nice in Hollywood and which ones are assholes. They both had some great stories. I decided then that I really freaking loved LA.

After lunch, we had more interviews, including the infamous Stefano DiMera, whose real name is Joseph Mascolo. Anyone who has ever seen Days knows this is the guy who loves to stir up trouble…. the rich and powerful supervillian. Joe was dressed in a Stefano-esque suit, but that’s where the similarities ended. He was sweet, kind, and very talkative. He is also from Connecticut! His accent was so ingrained in him he had a hard time dropping it because, as he says, he hates fake accents. He said half the cast didn’t know if he could speak English or not. He definitely had me fooled.

James Scott, the actor who plays EJ, has a gorgeous accent that is 100% authentic and just makes you want to do things you’ve only done in your imagination. He was paired with Ari Zucker, who is eight months pregnant and still drop dead gorgeous. She was sporting new dark hair, which looks amazing on her. Despite all three of us asking questions about the actors, James and Ari were in EJ and Nicole mode, staying in character the whole time and even arguing about their situation on the show. I was really impressed with Ari handling that long day of interviews and meeting so many fans. I’m not even remotely pregnant and at that point, I was exhausted.

Bryan Dattilo, who plays Lucas, and Lauren Koslow (Kate) were funny and able to make fun of their characters. Bryan is hilarious and Lauren pulls off a blue streak of hair and crazy nail polish like no other. Bryan admitted that he’d like to see Lucas have surgery to be given testicles, and Lauren said she doesn’t think Kate is evil despite the fact that she just tried to kill Chloe for cheating on Lucas. I brought up the infamous “Will doll” of the 90s and Bryan started imitating him. Hilarious.

Of course, I interviewed many more of the actors, so if you’re interested, check out my articles at Examiner.com. Unfortunately, four of them weren’t there and the press room closed before I could interview Nadia Bjorlin, the most gorgeous woman on Earth. I don’t even know how that girl goes out in public. I couldn’t stop staring at her. If you want to know who I’m talking about, Google “Nadia Bolin Brandon Beemer Vogue shoot” (Brandon is her boyfriend) and prepare to need a cold shower. Soap stars are definitely pretty people. Still, despite missing a few, I felt very blessed to have talked to so many.

After such a long day, I was in desperate need of coffee so I hauled ass to the Starbucks at City Walk. After being treated so well all day, I was subject to the rude employees with no zest for life being assholes and I decided right then that I was going to try harder to be a nice person to everyone I met. After being approached by an old dude who thought I was on the show, I decided it was time to take off my press pass and head back to my hotel. I caught a shuttle, where I ran into the Washington girls from our mixer the night before and showed off my pictures.

When I got back, I barely had time to think about what an amazing day I had just had (OK, I may have flopped on the bed for a few moments with an epic grin on my face but I admit to nothing) because I had to change for dinner. In June, I wrote a piece here called “Defining Friendship” which started like this:

I’ve got this friend in California and she’s absolutely incredible.  She’s in her thirties, has three beautiful daughters and loves Kevin Smith movies, Cinnamon Toast Crunch and South Park.  Over the last seven years, we’ve had a lot of amazing conversations.  She knows more about me than most.  She helped me through a really hard time in my life- a time where I was a real asshole- and she never judged me.  Not once.  In turn, I did my best to help her through a time when a man she loved, the father of those beautiful girls, turned his back on her.  We talk frequently via text and Twitter.  She’s one hell of a friend.  There’s just one thing… I’ve never actually seen her in person.

Well, my California girl lives about 45 minutes South of LA and after all this time, she was on her way to pick me up. Normally I would’ve been nervous about meeting someone face to face who pretty much knows everything about me, but given the day I’d just had, I was fine. LA traffic was a bitch, as usual, so while I waited for her arrival I caught up on Twitter. I almost peed my pants when I saw a tweet from Ali Sweeney directed at me. It was simple, but damn it, it was for me, and it just proved that I was the luckiest bastard on Earth.

My California girl arrived, just as pretty as her pictures with the most gorgeous eyes ever. In my texts, I am all exclamation points and “lol”s because that’s how I am in person. I wear my heart on my sleeve. My California girl is more mellow, the kind of cool that I can only hope to be but can never quite master. I feared I was annoying her, so I tried to tone it down, but between the excitement of my day, the excitement of meeting her and the wine with dinner I rambled continuously for hours right up until she dropped me off. We checked out the Walk of Fame, the Sunset Strip and saw Spiderman casually hanging out on a street corner. I am so grateful that I finally got to meet her and that she took the time to battle LA traffic to see me.

Back at the hotel, I had to be the asshole that called security and got a bunch of kids kicked out. Somebody had a bat mitzvah that day and Daddy had rented a bunch of hotel rooms so that Princess and friends could party all night. Well, they partied way too loud. I must be getting old because I watched through the peephole and snickered while the security guard bitched them out. I’m not a prude, but 2:30 am is way too late to be slamming doors and yelling down the hall.

Finally, when the young Jews were silenced, I passed out instantly, dreaming of Hollywood and soap stars.

LA Adventures: Part One

I was already awake when my alarm went off at 3:50 am. I’ve never overslept the day of a flight, but I was up later than I expected due to Mr. W and I laughing ourselves to sleep over God knows what… probably something the dog did.

It was cold, windy and dark as I said my goodbyes and drove to the airport. It was the perfect sendoff to the warm California sunshine. After checking in and grabbing a giant coffee, I was on my way. Even with a layover in Portland, the flights went very quickly and smoothly. Before I knew it, I was staring out my window at the Pacific Ocean, beautiful and blue-green and sparkling in the sunlight. The reality that I really was about to meet my favorite soap stars hit me with full force and I grinned like an idiot as I made my way through LAX.

I was in a shuttle van to the hotel when my old friend DJ called me. DJ is an old friend of mine and Mr. W’s from Spokane who now lives in Sacramento. I hadn’t seen him in years and missed him like crazy.

“What the hell are you doing in LA?” he asked.

“It’s for a Days of our Lives thing,” I said sheepishly before asking him if I could call him back so I wouldn’t be that asshole on the phone in a small space.

When I hung up, the other four ladies in the van were grinning. “We’re here for the Day of Days too!” one of them said, and for the rest of the trip, it was ON. We discussed our favorite plot lines, actors, you name it. For the first time in years, I began to feel better about being a fan of the show. I had always watched in secret, allowing my friends who did find out to tease me. But after that car ride, I knew I wasn’t alone.

Meanwhile, DJ and I were texting and he agreed to come visit me on my last day in LA even though it was a ridiculously long drive. Normally I’m a total planner when it comes to trips, but this time I had allowed a lot of flexibility in my schedule because I had a gut feeling something would happen. I guess I was right.

When we arrived at the Sheraton, I checked in, went up to my room, opened my windows, saw the palm trees and swimming pool, and smiled. What a difference of scenery from the cold Inland Northwest. I had one goal that day: shopping. After changing out of my winter clothes that were no longer necessary, I asked the concierge to help me get a Taxi.

“Don’t shop too much, Miss,” he teased. Then I was off to Beverly Hills, still grinning like an idiot.

Beverly Center was my destination. I arrived and proceeded to go into a four hour shopping coma. It was paradise: Bloomingdales, MAC, Forever 21, H&M, Guess, etc. It was at Beverly Center that I discovered something awesome. In fashion-conscious LA, when something goes “out of season” it normally goes on sale for a fraction of its normal cost. I was searching for the perfect outfit for the following day. I found it at Bloomingdales: a blue BGBC dress, originally priced well over $200, marked down to $60.

“It will never fit,” I said to the gorgeous gay man, Spencer, who was helping me. “My luck is never this good.” But this time, it was. Minutes later, Spencer and I chatted about LA while he wrapped up my new dress.

“You see everything here, girl,” he said. “You could’ve walked in here with a pony and I wouldn’t have thought twice about it.” Spencer gave me his card in case I needed further assistance (or to “grab a martini”) and I was off to my next adventure…and gay man… at the MAC store. Gay men, I beg of you, come to North Idaho. Despite being a Red state, it’s more accepting than you might think, and I need you in my life. I really do.

After sampling the infamous Pinkberry, which was just as delicious as I imagined, I cabbed it back to the hotel, talking to my sweet Russian driver the whole way. It was then that I realized everyone in LA had been incredibly nice to me so far. I’m sure it has its assholes, but if you’re nice to people, they’ll be nice to you.

When I emerged from the Taxi with bag after bag of shopping goodness, the concierge laughed at me for ignoring his warning and nicely helped me through the door. The couple who runs www.DaysTalk.com had organized a meet and greet in the hotel lobby so as soon as I dropped off my shopping hauls, I headed down. I found them almost instantly, surrounded by several women and a husband who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. Soon, we were joined by my friends from the shuttle and again, it was on. The conversation flowed, my favorite line being, “Now who did he rape again?” It was incredibly therapeutic to meet fans of the show who are just as crazy- if not crazier- than I am. I even met some girls who live close to my hometown in Washington.

After awhile, I realized I still had to prepare my questions for the actors. I headed up to my room, ordered room service, and got to work. Again, it hit me that I was actually getting the opportunity to ask my favorite actors the questions I had always wanted to ask and I had to take a melatonin with a wine chaser to calm myself down. Of course, I didn’t think of any REALLY good questions until I was on the plane home, but that’s the way it always works. Eventually I was satisfied with what I had and, after a quick call to Mr. W and setting every alarm known to man, I attempted to sleep.