OUT OF FOCUS

Emperors Club VIP Girl #26

There's a rumor that has been floating around the blogoshere that I have been involved in the Spitzer sex scandal.

I mean, my last blog entry was a week ago, the same week more names were released from the Emperor's Little Black Book.

One blogger asked me,"Kali, how is it that you have all this free time to blog?  It doesn't make sense?"

Oh, yes, it does.  Thanks to Emperors Club VIP, I have managed to make ends meet.

As Girl #26.

At Emperors Club VIP, I get to make my own hours, travel like the rich and famous, drink and smoke with the rich and famous and stay at some of the world's greatest hotels.  I never worry about extra charges on my hotel bill, room service is always on the house.  And the friendships?   Well that's what makes it all worthwhile.

It's the only way I can possibly stay loyal to my readers.

Happy Anniversary

A.D.D. Symptom: Starting tasks and never finishing them. Wait, I finished something.

One year ago today, I did something I never did before; I set myself a goal.  Could I write for one full year without giving up or getting sidetracked ?  Could I finally get all my thoughts out of my head, out of my file cabinets and my many scraps of scribbled napkins?

Thank you to those whom I've gotten to know over the year; those who leave their entertaining and occasional cynical comments and those who "hope they find a cure for whatever it is that you have, Kali".

Wellbutrin.  Ask your doctor about it.

 

Los Angeles/Lake Tahoe Petty Thief and Con Man, Mark Chodos

I once bought a lemon from a Los Angeles petty thief by the name of Mark Chodos.  A broken-down black Saab that this clown, Mark Chodos, sold me.  I should have known better but what to do when you are twenty five and you fall for a con artist. 

What ever made me think of this loser whose name I choose to defame?  Well, spring cleaning of coarse.

I was living on Canyon Country Road in what looked like a tool shed. My roommate at the time was a male who would later be crowned, Joe Millionaire.  An adventurous traveling partner, Joe and I drove cross-country from the east coast, sharing his Jeep Eagle as well as platonic living space for one long month.

Get to the point. I was doing something no one ever does in L.A.; I was walking to a corner store for a bagel.  No bagels.   I sat at one of the outdoor picnic tables in front of the store, pen and a pad of paper in hand.  And then I heard this voice:

"You know The Doors used to write their songs here" (insert cheesy construction guy smile).

Today, that statement would have been a loud cue for me to walk away from a guy with the world's worse pick-up lines.

We started talking and I told him that I was looking to buy a used car. Casanova tells me he has a 1990 black Saab for sale "in perfect condition".  In a moment of severe desperation, I actually agreed to meet him for a margarita that night. Bad move.

So I meet him and he kisses me that night.  The drinks must have been strong. I was young, stupid and attracted to a sleazy L.A. con man yet I never believed it at the time.

The following afternoon, he picked me up in the used car so I could "test drive" it.  And later that evening we had Chinese take-out at his mother's house whom he still lived with.  Another red flag.

On my way home, I agreed to buy the car.  The following morning I gave him 800.00 and I would follow up with future payments.  Later that evening we met for dinner at his place and he accuses me of rummaging through his belongings and stealing the money back from him.  Another red flag.

Psycho.

The car was in my ownership no longer that 24 hours and it breaks down.  Dead.  Kaput.  Lifeless.

I call him.  I get no answer. That following day, I have a friend's boyfriend stop at his house.  No answer. 

Then all of a sudden, he pulls up to the tool shed of an apartment that I lived in an he said he would take the car to a shop. 

He split with the car and my money.  I took him to small claims later that year and there was a judgment made against him.  But I still saw no money. I'm hoping that in the age of Googling, this story may just resurface in his future (there's always room for a little revenge.

The moral of this story?

Never befriend a guy from Mulholland Drive by the name of Mark Chodos.

Swallow or Spitzer; the tell-all autobiography by Ashley Alexandra Dupre

the tell I always wanted to be the person who brainstorms the witty headliners for the New York Post, but it seems that if notoriety is what I am seeking, I better start partaking in illegal activities considered 'disgraceful' by the majority of society.  It's a sure guarantee that after the story of my shameful illicit affair breaks, I will be immediately rewarded with a book deal, record deal or perhaps my own talk show. 
I am never one to judge call girls, hookers, male gigolo's or whatever you want to call them.  Hell, if I too, really wanted that limited edition Prada purse, I would probably consider selling my services to Al Gore in exchange for three grand and a handful of carbon credits.

I have to give the young, rich and beautiful Ashley Alexandra Dupre some credit: 

At 22, I certainly was not living in an upscale apartment in the Flatiron district but if I had had a john to run my career I would not have been housed in a dilapidated Queens apartment with decorative gunshot piercings on the front door. 

At 22, I didn't think of having a glossy 8 x 10 black and white photo of me sporting a black leather jacket, pursed lips over my shoulder and a bottle of Johnson's baby oil slathered in my hair. I just wasn't that creative. 

And at 22, I certainly did not have Ashley's gifted singing abilities. If I had, I would not have been working as a traveling elf entertaining preschoolers in remote regions of Pennsylvania.   

According to Freakonomics, the name Ashley is the most common low-Income white girl name, and if that is in fact true, the real brilliance of Ms. Dupre is her ability to prove she is anything but low-income.  The name Kali never got me free rides on a yacht, enchanted evenings at five star D.C hotel or a concierge  service  that would greet me with a head-bow and a hello whenever I came home after a night of political  shenanigans.

I have faith that Ashley a.k.a 'Kristen' will grow up and become a great motivational speaker. In the meantime, I'll friend her on Facebook and maybe my Jersey roots will give me V.I.P access to her little black book, or even better, an autographed copy of her soon-to-be-released tell-all book, Swallow or Spitzer; My Decision to Do the Dirty.

 

One Night In Charo-Save Elliot Spitzer Foundation

Last night, I attended a fund raiser for the Save Elliot Spitzer Foundation.  Since the most publicized photo of his gang-bang pal, "Kristen" has been a photo on a boat, we decided to go with a Love Boat Theme.

I went as Charo, the "coochie-coochie" musical star of the 70's.  I think the make-up job is pretty amazing. 

That's Charo with Stubing.  And that's me on the right.

To protect the anonymity of those still secretly shocked by Spitzer's naughty-boy behavior, I have disguised their identity although I think its still pretty obvious who attended the event last night:

That's me and Latoya Jackson. 

And that's me dancing with one of Spitz's favorite girls.

Spitz approached me last night and said he would consider "One night in Charo" only if I were twenty years younger.

OK. So that means I would have to 12.

Will these  photos will ever prevent me from running for office? I'll just say it was for a good cause.

A night of free drinks and free herpes tests.  What can be better?

And for those of you who are too young to remember Charo....

Script It Out; A New Form of Therapy

I tried something new today with my therapist.  That's right. We occasionally meet for a Sunday coffee, sit on a park bench and make fun of people walking by.

We tried a new form of therapy today: Scripting it Out

Shrink: "If I were to ask you, what do you think of when I say marriage?, can you script it out?"

Kali: "What the hell are you talking about?"

Shrink: "I want you to write a script"

Kali: "I pay you, you're the one whose supposed to come up with a script of what I'm supposed to say."

Shrink: "Since you have a tendency to hurl hot coffee in the middle of a heated conversation with a loved one, I think this would be a wonderfully soothing exercise."

Kali: "An Aveno bath is soothing."

Shrink: "You like to write?"

Kali: :"I like to bitch?"

Shrink:  (handing me a pencil and paper).  "Try it..."

Kali: "What is this?"

Shrink: "Its a pencil, a writing instrument consisting of a thin stick of graphite. Write what comes to mind."

Kali: "Like a Public Service Announcement?"

Shrink: "If that's what you see marriage as." (insert creepy smile here)

This is what I wrote. 

EXT. CENTRAL PARK. TRAIL
Dressed in a wedding gown, a FRANTIC FEMALE runs through desolate wooded trails, hurling over fallen tree logs as she trudges up small hills.

EXT. CENTRAL PARK. FOUNTAIN
She trips through a park fountain, mouthfuls of water, gasping for air.  The killer is not far behind.

EXT. CENTRAL PARK. TRAIL
The KILLER is closing in. In a tiresome crawl, she struggles up a small hill but the killer closes in on her.  He grabs her ankle.  For the first time we see the killer is a handsome GROOM dressed in a starched tuxedo.  With a look of insanity, he holds up a noose in his hand and asks,

GROOM
Will you marry me?

CUT TO:

A GOLD WEDDING BAND falls against a BLACK SCREEN.  A woman's blood curdling scream is heard.  The gold ring hits the bottom, spins and stops.
A hangman's noose made of crude rope swings from each end of the screen.  The following words light up against the dark screen, Thinking abut tying the knot?  Think again.

FADE TO BLACK.

V.O. This has been a public service announcement.

 

**********

She thinks we need to double up on sessions.

Stand Up New York Rocks for the Lyn Stacie Getz Foundation

Its not often that I have been entertaining myself at comedy clubs lately but tonight I'm glad I did. Produced by comedy manager, Jason Steinberg, New York City's legendary comedy club, Stand Up New York, rocked a benefit tonight on behalf of a very well-missed and well loved woman, Lyn Stacie Getz, who passed away November 15,1999.

It was a hilarious star studded line up: 

Esther Ku of NBC's upcoming season of Last Comic Standing and Animal Planet's "the A-list".

Erin Jackson of Comedy Central's upcoming season of Live at Gotham
 
Nate Bargatze CMT's Comedy Stage and Comedy Central's upcoming season of Live at Gotham

Rich Vos; Finalist NBC's Last Comic Standing Season 1 and Comedy Central Presents

Mike Vecchione Comedy Central and the New York Comedy Festival

Kevin Brennan (HBO's One Night Stand, Late Night with Conan O'brien

Todd Barry Comedy Central Presents, The Late Show with David Letterman

Jeffrey Ross (Comedy Central's Roast master General

Check out the  Lyn Stacie Getz Foundation.  

Thanks for tonight's laughs...

Here's a little Jeffrey Ross roasting Pamela Anderson...yummy

Where to Buy Marijuana in New York City

I have anger management issues.

So do these people:

This is the header of daybreakservices.com. Now if I were to take any anger issue classes, it would definitely be with this company b/c I think these three are an excellent selling point.  If these photos were flashcards and I was asked, "Kali, with whom do you identify most?", I would say the guy in the middle.

In the last two weeks, I have been told by three very different people that I should attend an Anger Management Class.  Is it the ADD?  Or is it me?  Or is it me in NYC?  Or is it
Me+NY+ADD=Anger Management? 

There was no fifth grade molestation so I can't blame it on that. My Dad was nothing like Lindsey Lohan's Dad, so I can't blame it on him.  For now, I'll blame it on Barack Obama and his issues with NAFTA trade Agreement.  Mexico will be angry. The idea of paying double for pickled jalapenos makes me angry. And quite frankly, I really don't like Canada.  (Enough with the seal clubbing!)

A friend suggested that I start smoking pot.  That should make me less angry.  But the fact that I cannot openly buy it makes me angry. So I Googled:

And I was happy to find some great leads. One was a site called Legal Buds. Here's the picture that's on their home page:

I'm interested in the Blueberry but I am more concerned about the woman in the picture.

Are the breasts symbolizing "buds of ecstasy"? Did she mix it with ecstasy? Or is she simply bugging out?  Will it act like an aphrodisiac? Or will it affect my nervous system like it has affected hers?

This is where the ADD and difficulty making decisions kicks in:

Do I simply purchase the smoking lamp oil and let it smoke up when the bulbs get hot?  Would that be considered "healthy" second hand smoke?

Does the Dream smoke bring about Lucid Dreaming? 

And what about the little volcano resembling a space craft?  Do you smoke from it and then have hallucinations of abductions?  That's too scary.

The Red Bliss look too much like Red Hots.  Will I be able to enter a Drug Free School Zone?

And what the hell is a Hotbox? Do I really need a toaster oven for weed?

Since when has smoking marijuana become so complicated? This decision making alone is making me angry.

What ever happened to the good 'ole dime bag?

Cockroaches; Psychological Long-Term Effects

I haven't been feeling the same since last night.  Today, on a New York City sidewalk,  a torn page from a Maxim magazine blew my way and I screamed.  I can only imagine what I must have looked like to anyone walking past me.  Perhaps I was a strict Holy Roller and had never seen a female in a bra before?  Perhaps I was another sad victim of Tourette's?

Or perhaps I am just still scarred from the two water bugs renting space from me.

Yes, I killed them and yes they are gone.  But I still f eel their presence.  I know their families know what happened and are just waiting for the right time to crawl out from under that wooden side table. 

This scenario keeps playing in my head:

Two cockroaches hanging out in a kitchen water pipe:

Roach #1: "Hey, so did you hear what happened to Gary last night?"

Roach #2: "Yeah, it was pretty bad.  And poor Sammie-"

Roach#1: "What are you talking about?"

Roach #2:  "Oh my God, you didn't hear?"

Roach #1:  "Hear what?"

Roach #2 "He was killed right after Gary."

Roach #1:  "Impossible!  We never show up in pairs!  Who was the last person to see Sammie?"

Roach #2: "No one really knows.  I mean the rumor out there is once Sammie found out about Gary, he just bugged out. Went to hold his lifeless body in his arms-etcetera.."

Roach#1: "Was it the fat guy from Apt 2B?"

Roach#2:  "Hell no. The crazy chick who's screams when she sees her shadow. The big mouth. Get this-"

Roach #1: "-don't freak me out-"

Roach #2: "Apparently, after the autopsy, they said that she chased both of them around her apartment with a bottle of Rite Aid Glass Cleaner.  I mean, the bitch is nuts!"

Roach#1: "That's sick!"

Roach #2: "No, it gets even worse.  She then sucks them down with this six foot tube of a vacuum from the 70's!  Only a sick, deranged person would ever do something like that."

Roach #1: "This is awful..."

Roach #2: "She didn't even have the decency to put them in the same bag.  She actually changed vacuum bags and then double bagged! Just a sick drunk."

Roach #1:  "My God, you would've thought that maybe after Gary, she would have left the room?"

Roach #2: "Well apparently she did.  She went back to grab her wine bottle and a bat and then she caught a glimpse of Sammie.  Poor kid-"

Roach#1: "So did anyone decide what we're gonna do?"

Roach #2: "I dunno.  A couple of guys suggested that like ten or twelve of us show up at her place at once and that might just get her skinny ass out of the building.  I mean, this bitch is unstoppable."

Roach #1: "Man, I wish there was some sway he could hear us talk and we'd just freak the shit out of her!"

Roach #2: "You can't write that sort of comedy (sigh).  I gotta blow-"

Roach #1: "It's a day of mourning.  Where the hell do you have to be?"

Roach #2: "She showers at eight. Grant it, she's the most inventive roach killer we know, but I might as well get something out of it-"

Roach #1: "That's baaad...Which pipe?"