Forty By Forty

Number 39: Perform at Jumbo's Clown Room

    It was fate. Jumbo's Clown Room opened in 1970, the year I was born, but it wasn't until 1982, the year of my Bat Mitzvah, that they started having exotic dancing there. Very appropriate considering that's when I became a woman in Judaism. At 12.

    For those of you who aren't familiar with Jumbo's Clown Room, it's a great, fun place to go for a drink. Some say it's the place where old strippers go to die, but I found that to be a grave error as some of the girls are ridiculously hot, and beyond talented in the ways of the pole. 

    They don't have amateur night at Jumbo's anymore, so getting to do this required a couple of nights of recognizance. First up, Hailey Pahoa, a few beers and lots of giggles. Hailey and I are having a bromance of sorts...we ask each other out every so often, compliment each other, treat each other to dinner, then text the next day with thank you's for a lovely night. Unfortunately neither of us have strong lesbian tendencies or we'd be set for life. 

The Los Feliz Fire Station...where I crashed and burned for Hailey

    Upon hearing that Hailey's dream is to settle down with a fire fighter, I did the next best thing to joining the force myself...I asked one of them out, while voting at the fire station in November, (as karma would have it, Hailey's polling place was a church.) I suggested that perhaps he could bring a fire fighter friend, and come out with my cute friend Hailey and I. But alas, fire fighter Webb was married. Booo.

     For the second visit, Heather came with me. Heather, who joined me for Number 5: Take an Art Class, is one of my favorite Tuesday morning girls. The Tuesday morning girls are some of the sexiest and most beautiful women I know. We take pole dancing classes with the lovely and talented Sheila Kelley, and her hot cohort Janelle, at Sheila's dance studio, S Factor.

    At Jumbo's, Heather and I had screw-top mini-bottles of wine, threw dollar bills at the talented girls, and talked to Leanne, a bartender who has worked at Jumbo's for 13 years, and who used to dance there herself. She's beautiful, sweet and fun, and after hearing about the Forty By Forty, determined to help me. 

    So it was decided that on my actual birthday, December 10th, I would go up on stage and dance at Jumbo's Clown Room. Leanne told me to look through the jukebox and pick a song before leaving that night, so I knew what I would be dancing to. There wasn't a huge selection, so I settled on "Darling Nikki" by Prince. And that was that.

    

Getting ready for my big debut...

     I walked in on December 10th a bit before 6pm, having had about five minutes to get dressed and ready. It had been a crazy week of party preparation, finishing up my last tasks and blogging about them, so I hadn't put too much effort into what I would do once I got up on stage, but I felt confident I would do alright.

     When I got there, my confidence and strong mental attitude weened. I realized that although I've been taking classes for years, I've never actually danced for anyone but the girls in class, because it's kind of personal and intimate, and you show a side of yourself that's...well, different. Only my Tuesday morning girls see the raunchy me. And Mr. "Do Something Kinky and X-rated" from time to time.

       Leading up to the big night, there had been some emails and text messages sent...inviting some girlfriends and a few gentlemen friends that I thought would provide the right sort of support; men who are either gay or British (= polite and asexual.) Unfortunately, or rather fortunately, the time slot I had been given prevented some from attending, something I received a few scathing messages about, so it was a smaller group of hard core supporters Andrew, Lorne, Zoe and Heather that planted themselves right up front for my debut. 

Raunchy apparel by Agent Provocateur  

 "Darling Nikki" started and after downing a shot of Jägermeister, I went up on stage through the side door. I was immediately intimidated by everyone staring at me, so I walked over to the mirror, listened to the music, and started to move slowly. The moving slowly part was necessary, as I hadn't worn my stripper heels in a while and was terrified I would fall on my ass, or worse, my face. But to my surprise I managed to walk and dance pretty well in those extra 6 inches.      

    Now, for the record, I know a lot of pole tricks; I can climb, flip upside down, do a snake dive, body spirals, and a lot of different spins, but it seemed I should probably stick to the basics for my first official performance. I did a few tricks, one which lands in a split, and then some crawling, pole grinding, cat pouncing, and before I knew it, the song was almost over. As much as I've not enjoyed having long hair, it was great for this task, as I could hide behind it, making it less intimating to dance in front of friends and strangers in a bra, sequined mini-shorts, fishnets and stripper boots.

       As fun and empowering as an experience like this can be, and was, there is a very strange and sort of demeaning part to it. When your song is over, you have to crawl around on the floor and pick up crumpled up dollar bills. I've watched the girls do it, and I always feel like someone should work out a more graceful and respectful way to collect the tips.

    I thought about just leaving them there for the next girl, but that's disrespectful...like I'm too good for one dollar bills or something. So basically, I crawled around on the floor and picked them up. And when I walked out, I heard someone (I think Lorne or Andrew) yell, "you missed one," so I had to go back and drop down again. For a dollar. 

     Coming down the steps, I thanked a couple of girls waiting to go up, and got a bit of attitude in return. As I settled into a chair for a quick drink and breather, with adrenaline and Jägermeister pumping through my body, it seemed there was some irritation and upset brewing among some of the girls. I promptly got up and went over to the bar where I dropped my dollar bills, telling Leanne to please distribute them among the girls.

Meow...catfight alert!

     That helped a bit; a couple of girls came up and said thank you, and wished me a happy birthday, which was totally sweet. I sat down and appreciated the next dancer so much more than I ever have before, understanding better what it takes to get up there. Balls. Then I turned around and found that one of the girls seated behind us still seemed upset, so I took my drink and asked if I could join her at her table to make nice. She explained that in the last 13 years of her working there, no one who doesn't work there has been allowed to go up, and she felt that my doing so was belittling her choice of profession. 

    I took a breath, then proceeded to tell her about the Forty By Forty project, listing a few of the more outrageous things I've done, explaining how they've inspired me and enhanced my life. I told her that I'd taken pole dancing classes, but that it doesn't mean I think I can do what she does every night. I also told her that I in no way was making fun of her chosen profession, on the contrary, I totally respect it.

    She lightened up a bit, but suspiciously asked why I had decided to do it at Jumbo's, wondering if it was some joke to me. I told her that it was because Jumbo's and I are the same age, and she finally smiled and wished me a happy birthday. I realized it probably would have been a good idea to explain all of this to a few of the girls beforehand, so as to not have my intentions be misunderstood, but this was something I hadn't expected or even imagined would happen. 

      
    After watching one more girl perform and throwing appreciation her way, we all headed out to begin my birthday celebration. It was about 6:30pm and I was pretty drunk, but also high and elated from having completed my 39th task, which was definitely outside my comfort zone. 

    Thank you Hailey and Heather for the prep, Agent May for help with the gear, my dollar throwing friends for doing just that, and most importantly, thanks to Leanne and the girls at Jumbo's for being gracious and letting me play on their playground.

Number 29: See Viva Elvis in Las Vegas

    The last time I was in Vegas with Toni Pickett was just before I got married. Ellie had hosted a beautiful baking themed wedding shower at her house, which sparked my passion for relieving stress and spreading joy through delicious baked goods. After the shower, Toni and my friend Claudia decided I would need a more wild and crazy send-off if I was to "make it" through married life. So a bachelorette party in Vegas was planned and perfectly executed. Of course, we all know now that the Vegas weekend wasn't enough to "make it" through married life either. 

     Toni and I met while working at the Maui Film Festival a few years ago and quickly realized we are pretty much the same person. Toni is the Asian version of me and I'm the Swedish version of her. Our birthdays are close together, and the cool thing about that is that whenever one of us struggles with something, anything, the other will come to the rescue and understand like no one else in this world. That, and our big shoe collection. We wear the same size which means we both have access to Jimmy Choos, Dolce & Gabbanas, Stuart Weitzmans, Givenchys, Pradas, Christian Louboutins, and on and on.

Vegas Take One 2005

    We piled in the car and headed for Vegas with the Red Hot Chili Peppers on and started to play a game that I had invented a few days earlier while having dinner with my friend Hailey. The idea is to give everyone you know a Native American type of nickname. I apologize in advance if this is offensive to anyone. But it's pretty fun. Ours were "She who runs from love," and "She who expects too much from love."

    Toni and I had a lot of catching up to do with mutual friends and separate ones, so we talked about "He who sleeps with a mask," "He who will always cheat," "He who will never grow up," "He who rubs me the right way," "He who deleted us both off Facebook," "He who can't settle down," "He who drinks too much," "He who smokes during sex", and after hitting up a creepy rest stop bathroom where they sold condom extenders in a rusty old machine,  a dear someone was nick named, "He who doesn't need an extender." 

  The last few miles before arriving we switched to the Ratpack which was way more Vegas appropriate and gave me the opportunity to do something I love; SCAT with Sammy Davis Jr. in the background. I could tell Toni was barely tolerating it, but kept on doing it anyway. We finally arrived, checked into the Palms, had a bite to eat, a nap and got ready for the show. We're both big Elvis fans so we were happy, excited and hopeful as we headed over to Aria where Viva Elvis lives.

    Viva Elvis. I'm at a bit of a loss for words. Not because it was so super fantastic that I cried my eyes out, which is a common occurrence for a Forty By Forty adventure. But because we were a bit disappointed and that's a first for this blog. Of course, there were some GREAT numbers. There was the giant blue suede shoe for that song, some great acrobatics during "Jailhouse Rock," fantastic costumes for "King Creole" and incredible bar tricks during "Return to Sender," which all made me warm and fuzzy.

    But all in all, the show was uneven and definitely had some weird moments. There was a lot of mediocre dancing, and singing by a girl we quickly named "She who thinks she duets with Elvis," after reading her interview in the program. It read, "If someone told me I'd be singing a duet with Elvis 5 years ago, I wouldn't have believed them." Guess what? You're not singing with Elvis. Because he is dead.

    There was also a pretty morbid interpretation of what Elvis' relationship with his twin brother would have been like, had the brother not died in childbirth. It had two similarly dressed guys climbing and playing inside a giant guitar hanging in the ceiling, which ended with one of them (the brother) falling into a big black hole. Weird. 

No cape for me...

    After the show, we quickly headed to the overcrowded Elvis store to remedy our disappointment by investing in an Elvis-type cape for me to wear when I perform at the Forty By Forty Party, but the only one they had was $20,ooo AND you had to sign something promising you won't perform in it. Needless to say, I settled on some Elvis guitar picks, hoping those will work to channel the King instead.

"Whoever invented this is a GENIUS!"    

   Next up, dinner at Lemongrass, where I found the most delicious drink of all time. Anyone who knows me knows that I am always looking for the perfect chai, so imagine my surprise when I found it in Las Vegas. Called the Spice Chai, the surprise ingredient was rum! Not surprising? That after a few sips of my new favorite drink on an empty stomach, I felt I had to announce its power to everyone at the restaurant. I did, which solidified our Native American nickname as "The Drunk Duo" to the rest of the patrons at the restaurant.

Haze...and after a while it all was...

    After a delicious dinner, we went club hopping, something I don't do a whole lot of in LA, but I love to dance and the music was really good so it was really fun. All the club names in Vegas have one syllable - Haze, Rain, Pure, Crown, Blush, Jet, Krave - so it's hard to keep track of where you are... but I suppose it doesn't really matter. And the funny thing is, no matter how slutty you think you look, or how drunk you are, there is always someone way sluttier and more drunk, so you don't ever have to feel bad or weird about yourself.

    I'm torn as to what to write next. I was hoping I wouldn't need to invoke the old Vegas slogan "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" because Toni and I used that one in Maui already, years ago. But I think it's for the best. In my defense, the music was really loud and I was sure he said he was 34, not 24. And yes, Toni was quick to give him a Native American nick name. Something simple that says it all. "He who was born in 1986." 

    We did finally get to sleep after using our matching capped tooth brushes and mini toothpastes. I have to say, there ain't no snuggle like a Dreamweaver snuggle. That's what I call Toni and that's the ring tone I have for when she calls me. And vice versa. I'm not explaining that either. 

    The next morning we had a delicious breakfast, some much needed coffee, braided our hair, and hit the road. The drive home was a bit subdued as it always is when you leave Vegas. It was my turn to drive so I did, jacked up on candy and with Simon and Garfunkel on. No scatting but plenty of sweet harmonizing and some re-capping of the night before, followed by hysterical laughter. A great trip all in all. 

Las Vegas Take Two 2010

    In conclusion; Thank you. Thank you very much. To Vegas and to my sweet Asian counterpart Toni who makes everything and anything fun, especially when Cirque de Soileil disappoints. And finally, ladies and gentlemen... Marika has left the building...

Number 40: Celebrate my 40th Birthday with the Friends who Made it all Possible

    I decided that the best way to celebrate my birthday and the fulfillment of the most extraordinary and rewarding thing I've taken on - Forty By Forty - would be to spend it with the friends who made it all possible. It was a way to make it more about the project and my "partners in crime" and less about getting old.  So, invitations were sent out to those who participated in the Forty By Forty project, by either adding something to my list, or doing one of the tasks with me. 

    On the back of the invitations, I had circled the challenge(s) that particular friend helped with. This one was Cyndi's, one of my busier Forty By Forty friends.

    Fantastic friends Bob and Hil graciously offered their home as the place to party, but as their street was being dug up the week of the party, there was a concern about parking, and the party moved to Ronny's. It made total sense, since Ronny was my first cohort in the Forty By Forty, having joined me for Number 1: See Sir Paul McCartney in Concert. Diane contributed vodka, champagne, and a case of Hungarian "Marika" wine, Cyndi sponsored the wait staff, Ronny got decorations and much more...Linda and I had rolled meatballs all week, and I also made glögg, which is a Swedish mulled wine served with raisins and almonds. 

    I had the most extraordinary day with calls, texts, emails, cards & flowers, while running around with Andrew (Number 30: See Carmen at the Met) getting everything handled for the party. Setting up for the party with H & R (Andrew & Ronny,) was hilarious, and a worthwhile birthday experience in itself. But there was more before I could relax and celebrate; Andrew and I headed over to Jumbo's for Number 39: Perform at Jumbo's, while Ronny sacrificed himself and stayed behind to get the party started. 

     

     Saying the party was great would be an understatement. My oldest friends came early, which made me happy and relaxed...Cyndi & Temple, Scott & Maya, Di & Roger, Toni, etc. There was yummy food, good music, delicious drinks and cool people, so I suppose just like any other awesome party, except for the fact that people who didn't know each other, kept on recognizing each other from the blog. All night I heard things like "Oh, I read the blog about you, you went with Marika to...." Kind of cool. 

     
      Ronny was the best host in the world, he mixed drinks and read fortunes by the bar, making sure people were happy, had food and drinks, and felt at home. Andrew took photos until he got too intoxicated by various things, and I finally sobered up from Jumbo's, so that I could get drunk once again. 

     But not until after my special performance. Michelle and I had practiced a Beatles medley for the party and although I was quite nervous, I was excited to perform it. "Norweigan Wood," "She Said, She Said," "Love Me Do" and "With a Little Help from my Friends." All songs that make me unbelievably happy and beaming from ear to ear. So Michelle and I got up, I made a quick speech, and off we went.

    It was hard. First of all, it's hard to play guitar and sing at the same time, especially this early in my guitar learning. Second, it's hard playing guitar and singing in a tight Gucci leather dress. (And yes, I smushed for this one.) Third, playing guitar is intimate, and I felt quite vulnerable playing in front of people, even though it was friends...I had to look down at my guitar or the floor for the most part, or at Michelle, who always calms me down. 

     The other accomplishment about the guitar playing was that sweet Guy managed to stay on the couch for the whole thing...I'm sure he'll be upset that I'm outing him about this, but he's got a thing about people busting out their guitars at parties. Like a legitimate physical sensation complete with warmth/panic/anxiety/embarrassment. And it's real. Guy usually leaves the party when it gets to the warm and fuzzy guitar point. But not this time, which made me feel quite special, although he did look a bit clammy afterwords, as he complimented me on my performance.    

    

      The cake, made by my dear friend Cheryl from Baked it Myself, was beyond delicious. It was a more sophisticated, heavenly spin on my favorite Swedish-style berry cake, and was stuffed with the freshest and sweetest of berries with mascarpone to die for. Definite highlight.

     Another highlight of the evening included Cliff inventing a solution for the problem pole dancers have with picking up dollar bills at the end of their dance. (See Number 39: Perform at Jumbo's Clown Room) Named "Strip Vac," Cliff's invention is a vacuum hose that is attached to the pole so you just pull it out and suck up the cash. Which means Mr. Olin can check something off his Forty By Forty list, as one of his challenges reads; "Invent something. Like muscle beer."

 

       Eventually, we all ended up on the back patio with a fire burning and mellow music playing. We sat around and talked and laughed, snuggled up on the couches under warm blankets. At some point, Bianca asked me to dance and I politely accepted. Just the two of us, slow dancing for what seemed like an eternity. The gentlemen seemed quite mesmerized. As was I...it was the first time all day that I was just still, quiet and peaceful, snuggled up to Ms. Sia, and it was a lovely thing at the end of an eventful and exciting birthday. 

     As the party started to wrap up, I picked up my guitar again. I wanted to play something sweet and mellow to complete the evening. For those of you who aren't U2 fans, there is a song called "40" from their 1983 album "War," that they ended their concerts with in the eighties. They would sing it, then peel off the stage, first Bono, then Adam Clayton, then The Edge and finally Larry, while the song was still going. The audience would keep singing the chorus for minutes, but the band never came back on stage. It's how you knew it was over. Simple and beautiful, the lyrics are a modification of Psalm 40 from the Bible. 

    So at the end of an amazing night, it seemed fitting that I should play myself out with "40." There were just a few people left at the party when I started strumming. With "40," I played myself out of the most magnificent year of my life, out of a beautiful birthday, out of a fantastic celebration with people I love, and out of that tiny bit of melancholy that you feel when something epic has ended.

       Leading up to my birthday, a lot of people said "life begins at forty" as a way to make me feel alright about turning the big 4-0. The truth is, I feel more than alright about turning 40. I found myself expanding and growing in ways I didn't think were possible this year; physically, emotionally, spiritually, intellectually...and I don't just like who I am today. I love who I am today. 

      I've managed to sufficiently shake up who I am, and laid to rest who I've known myself to be for the first 39 years of my life, so in a way, my life up until this point is complete. Not over, but complete. I've done many extraordinary things, this year and before. I've also managed to get through some difficult times, with as much grace and ease as I've been able to muster up. I recently read something that I found true and appropriate for me and my journey. "Life Begins at the End of Your Comfort Zone." It certainly did for me. Forty times. 

     My heart is full of love and appreciation for the amazing friends who shared the Forty By Forty adventure with me, by adding things to the list or by participating in one or more of the adventures. I'm a different human being today because of you. My life will never be the same and you will always have a part in that. 

       Thank you Andrea Anders, Ashley Aurell-Killian, Andrew Barrett, Brian Studler, Calvin Remsberg, Cliff Olin, Christi Christensen, Cyndi Finkle, Debbie Steingesser, Dana Schwartz, Diane Merrick, Dory Benami, Elena Zaretsky, Ellie Schwimmer, Elise Blecher, Guy Burnet, Hailey Pahoa, Heather Tyson, Ingrid Lundin, James Webber, Jason Frahm, Javier Gonzalez-Rubio, Jen Kotowski, John Kazlauskas, Judy Downes, Julian Stern, Justin Fortune, Karen Forman, Kathy Hodgkiss, Keri Safran, Keri & Hermas Lassalle, Laura Tremaine, Lily Liliana, Linda Santiago, Lorne Hiltser, Luke McFarlane, Matt Johnson, Matthew Heller, Matthew Rhys, Mark Lucaj, Maya Einziger, Michael Hundgen, Michelle Payne, Mosie Hackett, Mysti Friedman, Nate Crocker, Rachel Calvert, Radha Mitchell, Robert Scott Wildes, Ron Safran, Pia Bellander, Sara Sugarman, Todd Stolarski, Toni Pickett, Ulf Cahn, Valentin Vignet, Wei-ning Yu, West McDowell & Zoe Wittock.

 

Number 23: Do Stand-up Comedy

   Funny things happen to me fairly often, and I can be quick and snappy when challenged to a banter-off with a cute boy. I'm also pretty decent at sketch comedy... But to take that and put it into some sort of structured act is harder than it seems. So, this was one of those "I can make a total ass out of myself here" challenges. And those challenges are the most interesting ones, I've found. The ones where I have to expand who I know myself to be, and as a result, end up learning the most about myself. 

 Charlotte and Francine, two retired whores

   My friend Karen Forman, my side-kick in the popular "Two retired whores applying for a business loan at Wells Fargo" sketch graciously invited me to do my act at The Jive Joint, which is a crazy mix of creative performances by some strangely talented people, hosted by Karen's Street Theatre Troupe Suddenly Dapper. The Jive Joint has a new home, in a huge and cool loft space downtown, in a bit of a dubious area. I say dubious because my iPhone told me to "Use Caution" when I got walking directions from where I had parked.

   As preparation for this challenge, I tried telling some jokes around town, but I quickly discovered I'm terrible at that. It's not that I can't remember the punch line, it's that when I get to it, I start to laugh because it's so funny. And so there I am, laughing really hard, tears streaming down my face...and I just can't get it out. Of course, when I finally get the punch line out, it's not funny at all, because at this point, the person I'm telling the joke to has watched me almost pee my pants for minutes, which insinuates that it's the funniest joke in the world. 

   Next, I went into my "funny" diary. I started it when I was in India with Radha. Every once in a while I would say something that would make Radha laugh uncontrollably, or we'd have a weirdly funny dialogue and she would insist on my writing it down. God bless her for making me do that because I've kept doing it with her and other friends, and I've already used funny lines in scripts I've written. Here's one of my favorites, from a recent chat:

"He’s fat and he’s got hair everywhere. But I kind of like that."

"Really?"

"Yeah…I’ve always had this fantasy of being fucked by Harvey Weinstein."

"Please don’t do that while I’m eating."

"What?"

"Talk about fucking Harvey Weinstein."

"Ok, fine. Tell me about your new love interest."

"He's nice but I think he’s too pretty."

"For what?"

"It makes me feel fat and ugly when I’m with someone really pretty."

"I was with someone  fat and ugly and I still felt fat and ugly."

"Was it Harvey Weinstein?"

   Unfortunately, a lot of it is dialogue, but I found one story I could use. Someone had said humiliation is funny so I opted to tell the ultimate humiliation story. I went up after some improv, ukulele playing, hoola hooping and juggling, and grabbed the microphone.

   The story I told was about when I decided to tell a boy I liked him. "Joe Smith" had been "secretly" in love with me for years, so it was one of those safe bets. Or so I thought. I called him up and then it turned bad. I guess since I last checked, he had met someone new and now liked them instead. As I'm listening to him letting me down easy, I decide to text my friend Francesca about the whole thing. A bit of a crude text. A few seconds later, he asks "did you just text me?" Then he proceeded to read the text meant for Francesca, back to me on the phone. The one about him liking some whore now...and me feeling like a loser and wanting to die. 

       

   It turns out people do think humiliation is funny because there were a lot of laughs. I had a couple of other bits I had worked on that also demonstrate my awkwardness in the area of romance and that were equally humiliating, but decided to go straight for my final bit and quit while I was ahead. I had to pause after my initial; "so, I was having anal with my boyfriend the other day," because people were laughing quite loudly. I go on to explain that it's really not a bit...I really just wanted people to know that A. I have a boyfriend, and B. I do anal. And then I get into the nuts and bolts of anal sex, which I won't repeat here. 

   It wasn't fun at all before I went up, in fact, I wanted to throw up, go home and forget about the whole thing. I had only invited a few friends because I honestly didn't know how it would go. Once I was up there talking, it was actually fun and I was happy and relaxed. I don't think it's something I'll do again, but all in all, a solid uncomfortable experience. I suppose what I learned was that I can be funny in a stand-up way after all. But I must say I prefer other ways, simply because the whole anxiety thing beforehand is a pain in the ass. Pun intended. 

   Thanks to Guy for inspiring the second bit, to Radha, Cliff and Karen for letting me rehearse with them, to my sweet friends who showed up and laughed; Cliff (Number 13: Skydive,) John (Number 15: Run a 5K & 19: Pea Soup Andersen's,) James (Number 3: Read 5 Foreign Books,) Zoe (Number 7: Go to Prom) and Andrea (Number 11: Take a Hip Hop Class.) 

   Most of all, thanks to Karen Forman and her lovely and talented crew for letting me soil their Thursday night gig ever so slightly, with a bit of anal.

Number 22: Bhakti Fest

   The word bhakti means "loving devotion to a deity, leading to salvation and Nirvana" and Bhakti Fest is a four day celebration of chanting, meditation, yoga and inspiring talks that takes place on 450 acres in JoshuaTree, where people get blissed out. Or, as I would like to now refer to it: Hippie Fest. 

   Driving to Joshua Tree for Bhakti Fest, I was a little tired and uninspired. By the Forty by Forty project actually. I'm past the half-way point and I'm losing steam fast. After returning from Peru I've felt a bit reclusive and like I really don't want or need to go on any new adventures right now. So, this was something that I was just going to have to get myself through and then, I told myself, I would be allowed a break for a few weeks.

   

   So I arrived huffing and puffing a bit...perhaps even irritable. Definitely not in the mood to be happy and have a good time. As I walked through the "village" that had been built up with tented areas for yoga, music stages, massage tents, booths where incense, buddhas, clothes, jewelry and art was sold, food stands and coffee carts, I looked around and saw a mix of hippie yogis, hip yogis and trippy yogis. I couldn't help but smile. A bit. 

   I walked to the main stage area and saw my friend and excellent yoga teacher Richard Wegman doing his morning sun salutations, while Joey Lugassy was playing beautiful music. Big grin. 

Keri, me and Dana

   Then the flood gates of happiness opened. I ran into friends upon friends upon friends. I realized that I had forgotten how many sweet and fantastic people I know in the yoga/kirtan/meditation community, and how much I'd missed them spending time in school on the east side for the last two years. 

    
              Me, the beautiful Keri and our rockrings (Swedish for hoola-hoop)

   It didn't take long to get into it. After a walk with Dana and a bit of hoola-hooping with Keri, who has the fantastic Y Catalogue with her even more fantastic husband, Hermas, I got ready for my first class, Bollywood with Hemalaaya Behl.

   I'm realizing now that most of this blog will be about my friends, how beautiful they are and how sweet it is to spend time with them, so if that gets boring and repetitive, I apologize in advance. Hemalayaa is not just a friend from my days in Ojai and beyond, but a goddess, whose Bollywood classes are as entertaining as they are a full body workout. And I wasn't surprised to see our mutual Ojai friend Tony Khalife accompanying her on guitar, because he is a wild spirit just like Hema, and the music he plays is both soulful and inspires movement. 

   The class was crazy and fun and of course after dancing around like an Indian princess, I was starving and went over to the food area to be severly disappointed. I'm sorry but vegan, vegetarian and/or raw food isn't delicious for more than 5 minutes. For me, it's like a fun novelty item. "Isn't it fun that they can make 'pizza' with nothing that you make pizza with?" But when you actually have to rely on that to get your nourishment, it's not fun or exciting.  

   And no matter how many vendors I asked (irritated,) there was really no animal protein to be found. Lucky for me, there was kichiri which will always fill the tummy...and the chai tea was as good as in India, although by Saturday afternoon the girl who worked that booth had taken her shirt off which made the line super long.  

   

Saul and alumni; me, Debbie, Lilly & Kathy

   Next up, a reunion in Saul David Raye's class. One can always count on Saul to bring the bhakti and his class on Saturday was no exception. In fact, I'd put it in the Top 3 of all time. Chills up and down my spine, a soulful practice with lots and lots of spontaneous dancing. There were quite a few of us from his teacher training in 2008,  and we all practiced together while some incredibly talented musicians played, including Joey Lugassy, Steve Gold, Frank Fitzpatrick, Matthew Hufschmidt, David Watts and more. 

   Then, time for one of the highlights of the weekend, Krishna Das on the main stage. Seeing Krishna Das is like being at a rock concert. You know all the songs, you love the stories and you don't want the night to ever end. There's singing, chanting, dancing...people are so happy and blissful and freed up. It felt like Woodstock. Not that I have any personal experience of Woodstock...but I do think it probably smelled the same way...

   After a great night's sleep in pitch black and complete silence in the Mustang Cabin at Rattler Ranch, a bit away from the village, I got up excited for yoga with Shiva Rea. Well, after Keri's husband Hermas removed the black widow spider from under my mattress, I was excited.

   I've never taken a class with Shiva before, which is strange considering I've been practicing yoga at Exhale in Venice for so many years. When I showed up, it turned out it was Trance Dance and not a yoga class. What? That's just ridiculous. That's not what I was prepared for and for those of you who know me...well you know I can't really shift gears like that. Not a fan of the quick changes. I started to roll up my mat (i.e. take my marbles and go home) when Lilly grabbed me and said, "let's stay...might be fun." I decided to pretend like I am an easy-going person but quietly decided to give it just ten minutes. In the first five minutes I realized Shiva Rea is nuts. Really nuts. 

  

    Then I slowly realized it's the good kind of nuts. The kind of nuts that frees you up and makes you not have a care in the world. And so perhaps it would be ok if just this once...I went a little nuts along with everyone else? So, with my eyes closed I danced around like a nut, feeling happy and goddess-like. And needless to say, not needing to roll up my mat and hit the road. And after, a calm and peace and quiet came over me. My mind was still. That rarely happens. 

Christi showing off some new moves...

   Off to eat again and FINALLY I ran into the sweet and delightful Christi Christensen, dancer, yoga teacher, friend, but most of all, goddess of Exhale in Venice. When she is in one of her happy infectious moods, as she was, it's like the sun has come out for the first time and you just want to bask in its glory. I did. 

   Then I got a henna tattoo from Debra. I don't know what else to say about it and I won't show a photo here...but it was one of those things where I was inspired in the moment and went for it. Definitely out of left field even if it will come off in a few weeks. 

   The second and final highlight of the weekend came Sunday afternoon when my friend Sean Johnson and his Wild Lotus Band played on the main stage. Sean, Gwendolyn and Alvin are from New Orleans and bring a way cool sound to the average kirtan music, that makes it impossible to keep your heart in check. Gwendolyn is cool and calm but with a power to her drumming that forces your feet to dance and Alvin's guitar riffs sends chills down your spine.

    Then there is Sean, who has the voice of an angel. Not much else to say about that, other then that I had the pleasure and privilege to sing with him a couple of years ago sans the Wild Lotus Band, for a kirtan at Exhale with Saul. It was one of the most blissful experiences of my life to get to share his music in that way. 

      

                         Christi still beaming, and the curly haired wonders, Gigi and Tony.

    Needless to say, we were all there dancing, beaming, singing, clapping and even hollering. Debbie Steingesser, who has become a fantastic yoga teacher since our teacher training, mixing yoga with another of her passions, African dance, dragged me up on stage so that we could truly celebrate with Sean, Gwendolyn & Alvin close up. We danced and danced until we cried from joy. Another bhakti moment with Debbie, and we've had many together, since we met in Ojai at the Yoga Crib a few years ago. For me, it doesn't get any better than that, so after we all settled down, I decided that it was time to head back to LA, leaving on the highest of notes, inspired by life, re-engaged in the Forty by Forty project, but most importantly, with a full heart. 

   Namaste Hema, Saul & Shiva for the beautiful classes, to my goddess friends Debbie, Dana, Christi, Lilly, Kathy & Keri for bringing inspiration back into my heart and to Sean, Gwendolyn & Alvin for playing me out...

Number 14: Hollywood Bowl Sing-along

  The Soundtrack to Grease was my first album, and I would spend hours singing along to all the songs. It was in 1978 in Stockholm, Sweden, and since I didn't learn English in school until 1979, I just mumbled my way through, making up words that sounded like what they were singing. I also "made out" with John Travolta on the cover, which made it funnier to meet him a few years ago. Unfortunately, he looked nothing like the Danny Zuko whose lips had been pressed against mine so many times, but I still giggled to myself. 

Sara's internship at B&S was way more exciting than mine

  Aaaah, to be Sandy... I got my wish the other night. My date? Sara Sugarman. For those of you who don't know her, she is one of the most vivacious and fun people to be around and we have a lot in common. A Welsh Jew, which is about as rare as a Swedish one, Sara went to the AFI screenwriting program a year ahead of me. She gave me the best advice for how to make it the most valuable experience possible and has proven to be a sweet and loyal friend, always ready to pimp me out. Already an accomplished writer/director, Sara also interned at Brothers & Sisters so she shares my love for John, Studs, Cliff, Molly and everyone else over there. 

  And by the way, she made the best Danny Zuko a girl could ask for. I went for the "bad Sandy" look and wore fake leather pants, a tight top and curled my hair before picking Sara up, who had no idea where we were going. "Is it a strip club?" she nervously texted me as I was on my way. She was beyond excited when I told her we were going to the Hollywood Bowl for the Grease Sing-along. 

  When we got to our seats, Didi Conn, who played Frenchie, was up on stage talking to people who had dressed up for the movie. There were Sandys, Dannys, Frenchies, Rizzos, Beauty School Dropouts and a family who were dressed as the drive-in scene (!) There was a little Danny Zuko on a swing and behind him a hotdog struggling to get into its bun, an ice cream and popcorn, from the snack commercial that runs behind Danny on the big screen when he sings "Alone at a Drive-in Movie." Unbelievable.

  But wait, that's not all. There were also pink goodie bags on every chair. We each got a pom-pom, a comb, a yellow scarf, bubbles and a whistle. We didn't quite understand what to do with them but as the movie started, it got clear that there were be parts in the movie where we were supposed to use these things.      

  The movie started and it was really something. People hissed and booed when The Scorpions drove up with Crater Face at the wheel, shook their pom-poms at the football game and blew bubbles during "Beauty School Dropout." Sara looked in her goodie bag for a condom to break when Kenickie is about to have sex with Rizzo and his breaks, but no such luck. 

Bad girl Cha-Cha DiGregorio from St. Bernadette's

  The best use of the goodie bag came when Crater Face and Danny got ready for the drag race. The yellow scarf was a replica of the one Cha-Cha DiGregorio wore and subsequently took off her neck to start the race. So there were thousands of people swinging their yellow scarves as the race started....

    

  We laughed our asses off, we screamed, clapped, whistled, and sang all our favorite songs...from "Summer Lovin'" to the somewhat pathetic "Hopelessly Devoted to You" to "Greased Lightning," all with lyrics scrolling across the bottom of the screen so we could sing along. I must say, in 1978, I had no idea they sang "the chicks will cream" in that song...and I suppose, even if I had, I wouldn't have understood what it meant, so that was an interesting revelation. We did the "Hand Jive" at the school dance until our hands were sore, we danced, I cried for Sandy, and Sara used her comb throughout the evening. 

  Best of all was to go with someone who is as crazy about singing and dancing as I am, and who isn't afraid to look completely ridiculous. Because, let me tell you, we really did. Especially Sara. Thanks for an ACES evening, SUGE!

Number 11: Take a Hip Hop (and it don't stop) Dance Class

      Yep! You guessed it! Back to The Edge - LA's premier dance studio - for more humiliation. I went with my friend Andrea Anders, who loves to dance as much as I do and who gave me the best early graduation gift EVER: 

Hiphopopotamus & Rhymenocerous 

Flight of the Conchords at the Hollywood Bowl. She did it right too. Drove her flashy car straight into Valet and unpacked a delicious picnic of finger sandwiches, crackers, hummus, olives, wine, beer and chocolate. The show was incredible; Kristen Schaal, Arj Barker, Eugene Mirman and then Bret and Jemaine came out. They sang and danced and talked and bickered until our cheeks were so sore we couldn't talk. A night of hilarity, both the show and the company. 

Andrea with her new co-workers

...not surprising since Andrea is a really good comedic actress. She was great on Joey and The Class but most recently, HYSTERICALLY BRILLIANT on Better Off Ted. And you'll be able to see her soon in Mr. Sunshine on ABC. 

But back to Number 11: Take a Hip Hop Class. We were really excited. I was irritated because class didn't start on time and Andrea said it was because I was nervous. She was right. Then Ben showed up and we got started. It was really fun but hard. And for the warm-up, I had a really hard time keeping a straight face because, let's face it, I'm an itty bitty Jewish Swedish girl and some of the hip hop moves just look so weird when I do them. Like I'm trying to be a black rapper or something. 

Ben was awesome. And sexy. Until he made the first timers raise their hands (us.) He started teaching us this really cool routine and Andrea picked it up pretty quickly. She was good. I was trying to figure it out, like in my head, and that's obviously not "where hip hop lives" so it didn't go so well. But the more I relaxed and just let my body do its thing, the easier it got. And more fun. It was hot and sweaty and hard but really awesome and the music was cool and we really just had the BEST TIME.

And we're going back. Ben teaches Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays so that's when you'll find us there. Thanks for a great class, Ben. And thanks for another great adventure, AA.

Number 7: Go to Prom

Waiting for my Prom Date

God bless Brian Studler, Todd Stolarski and their fun friends on the Prom Committee for putting the Just Like Heaven prom together. This was so much more than just checking something off a list, I've been dreaming of prom since I was a teenager in Sweden, watching all those American movies with prom queens, cheerleaders and varsity football players and have always felt that my life was missing something because I didn't have that experience.  

As soon as the prom was announced, I immediately started to invite all my foreign friends; the Belgian, the Aussie, the French Canadian, the Frenchman, and also people I suspected of having had a less than satisfactory prom experience. (You know who you are if you're American and was invited.) The whole prom date thing turned out to be quite the ordeal. Do you ask someone or do you wait to be asked? If you wait to be asked, there is always the chance that there's no one left for you to go with...I've seen this in numerous Brat Pack films. I overshot and ended up with two dates which really made me feel like a tormented teenager, but lucky for me one of them didn't get their ticket in time. So that solved that. 

My date for the evening: Lorne Hiltser. Lorne is from Montreal and is a directing fellow at the AFI and one of my best friends. More Jewish intellectual than football player so I adjusted my mental picture for the night accordingly. The dress I wore was a champagne silk vintage dress that belonged to my friend Ellie's grandmother. It fits like a glove. I ran to Rite Aid to get some hair spray, poofed my hair and stuffed a bunch of pins in it to resemble some 50's updo before heading over to Figaro with my sweet and equally prom deprived Aussie friend Radha. That's where we had a drink, some food and met up with beautiful Belgian Zoe in vintage Dolce & Gabbana and waited for our dates.  

      

Lorne showed up with the most beautiful corsage in a plastic box and it literally made my night. I really did feel like a teenager. It was the perfect color and size and I was very upset when I had to let Radha try it on for a minute. It didn't leave my wrist for the rest of the night.  

Soon it was time to go and we piled into two cars and found that the direction "if you're on skid row, you're in the right area" proved to be very helpful. We made our way to an abandoned church downtown, which had been decorated with beautiful streamers, balloons and glittery curtains - thank you Prom Committee! First up, our official prom photo which I'll post as soon as it becomes available. Next, the BAR and finding all our fantastic friends...which we did quickly: Jen, West, Julian & Wei-ning, funny girls Karen & Elena, Sarah Goldfinger, Elysse & Cole, Sparky & Ellis, Todd & Studler and many, many more. 

 

                                                                                                    

          
      
 We danced and danced and danced...it started off prom like, very stiff, awkward, serious, and slow with Lorne's arms firmly planted around my waist. Then they kept on sliding down (as expected) and I kept on moving them back up.

 

     

    

 The most devastating blow came next. It was time for the crowning of the Prom King and Queen and although I had somewhat low expectations going in, when the woman making the announcement said, "she's foreign and this is her first prom" there was no doubt in my mind I was about to get the biggest honor ever bestowed upon me. So my friends started cheering and pushing me towards the front, and the next thing I heard (unfortunately) was: "Ma............ry Lou."

The most priceless photo ever...the moment itself...

 WHAT? Then came that moment we've all seen on TV. You know when the big actor doesn't get the Academy Award but is overly enthusiastic about the person who did...you can tell they're crying on the inside but looking hysterically supportive on the outside. On the inside I heard myself shouting "we was robbed" and pictured myself ripping the crown out of her mousy brown hair, or better, throwing a gallon of blood on her pristine, white dress. 

I had to take a moment. Several actually. And then it came. The prom feeling. The prom experience. Which is what I came for. Unfulfilled expectations. Broken hearts. For both me and Lorne since I had said I would only put out if I was crowned Prom Queen. 

Thanks to all my friends for coming and making it so great...but most of all, THANK YOU Brian Studler. Cause we is FRENZ and I HEART U.

Number 4: Take a Ballet Class

The last time I took a ballet class was in the early 80's but I still remember the five positions, the pliés, the pirouettes and the Grand Jeté...although because of my short legs mine was always more of a Petit Jeté...So I thought, how hard could this be? The short answer: HARD.  

I went with my sweet friend Keri Safran who is so much more than just a pretty face (as you can see above.) We wrote and performed Happy Hour together at the Groundlings and we've been friends since. She told me she started taking ballet lessons the last time I saw her, so I asked if I could tag along. She said no. She said I'd have to take some lower level classes before I could join her in the "big girl class." Or blog about how great her ass looks in leggings. I spent over an whole hour ogling it. IT DOES. 

 I put my outfit together carefully. Black tights, black leotard, pink ballet slippers and LEG WARMERS...Go 80's! The most exciting thing was putting my hair in a bun. I never had long hair as a little girl, which my mother says was because I was always getting food and other things stuck in my hair...so it was just easier to keep it short. For her, anyways. 

We met at The Edge. In hindsight, I probably would have preferred something more subtle and old school like the Debbie Reynolds Dance Studio in the valley but this is where Keri said "it's at." Meaning the teachers work with musical geniuses like Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys. Our teacher was a 23-year-old Ballet Nazi. She was so tough and intense and kind of angry...but not towards me. I'm not sure if it's because I was so excellent or because I'm what she would call a "lost case." 

It was hard. The bar exercises were fun and great and I followed along fairly well. I used muscles I didn't know existed and was feeling kind of pleased with myself and somewhat confident. Until we hit the floor....oy vey. I couldn't keep up with the jumps and the pirouettes. I got frustrated. I got embarrassed. I got angry. It made me realize how hard I am on myself...I have a lot of tolerance and patience and space for other people to be just how they are, but not me. I have to be perfect and graceful all the time. Well, today I wasn't even close. And quite frankly, it was kind of awesome to try my best and still suck. 

Keri on the other hand, was a ballerina star on the floor; the pirouettes, the jumps...and that ASS in those tights. Yummy. 

Thanks for the humiliation Keri...