Boldly Go to the New Star Trek Film Next Friday

As a child I was only allowed to watch several hours of television a week. This meant careful timing and organization on my part to make sure I got in all my favorite cartoons and, later, the scandalous "90210". However, there was a catch. I could watch anything my parents were watching, and it wouldn't count toward my hours. So there I sat through episode after episode of "Miami Vice" and "Star Trek." What began as mere curiosity and a borderline obsessive need for entertainment, whatever the cost, (I was an only child) turned into a love affair with Sonny Crockett and Mr. Spock.

My favorite, above all, was Star Trek. The camp. The sexuality. The do-gooder, futuristic Peace Corps mentality of the Academy. The bold wardrobe choices. It was a nearly perfect world where race wasn't an issue and women fired phasers. My mom even had a Trekkie friend who would get us free tickets to the conventions, where we would watch in amazement as perfectly normal people let their freak flags fly. My inner freak wanted to jump up for joy, but I didn't dare became one of them: just a starship voyeur. That said, somewhere deep in a box in my garage is a collection of Star Trek trading cards, a stack of autographed headshots of the stars (both original and Next Generation) and a faux, gold USS Enterprise charm necklace...

With this history of "seeking out new life and new civilizations," you can image my delight when my roommate scored me a seat to a Family & Friends screening of the new Star Trek - a prequel look into where it all began. I don't want to give anything away, but I do want to encourage both fans and Star Trek virgins alike to boldly get thee to a theater next Friday and take a journey into the farthest reaches of our galaxy. It may not be the best sci-fi movie ever made, but the action is good, the script funny and often poignant, the special effects dork worthy and the story one hell of a fun ride. And for all of you who fell asleep in the modern film version of "Miami Vice," as I did, this more than makes up for the disappointment.

So live long and prosper and don't forget to sneak in a bag of popcorn instead of paying full price at the concession stand. If I was a Starfleet alien, I'd be a Frugalian.

Ahh, irony...

Just a quick anecdote about an incident that occurred on the set of the Carson Daily show the other day. When lining up to get paid I noticed a young man standing behind the fence to the studio lot yelling at one of our audience wranglers. Turns out said gentleman was kicked out because he was caught taping the show on his cell phone, and was now demanding to be paid. I listened for nearly ten minutes as he swore up and down that he wasn't taping the show and that he was only trying to turn off his cell phone as to not distract Mr. Daily.

While listening to him beg and plead his innocence, I suddenly felt a tap on my shoulder. The guy waiting in line behind me started laughing and turned my attention to the angry man's shirt. I swear to you that the following is true. Written on this dude's shirt - the same man who was currently insisting on his honorable word - was: "I'm probably lying." No joke. Pure irony. If only all of us would wear something so blantant as a warning to others. Here are a few I've come up with that would have really helped me in the past had certain people warned me.

1.) I have a girlfriend.
2.) I'm a Scientologist.
3.) I'll never change.
4.) Don't sit next to me on the plane: I have gas.
5.) I'm manic and have stopped taking medication.
6.) I'm going to use your deod0rant and make-up as soon as you leave for class.
7.) I'll talk behind your back.
8.) I don't like cats.
9.) I used to be a professional juggler.
10.) I snore.
11.) I'm going to let you wash my dirty Calvins for 3 years, and then break your heart.

Anyone else have any they wish people would wear?

P.S. If you're a fan of lists, check out my friend Kim's new blog dedicated to all things numbered and bulleted. http://thelistlessmistress.blogspot.com/

Winter Time and the Speakin's Easy

This past Saturday night, some girlfriends and I went to a speakeasy downtown in the back room of Cole's French Dip. At this particular secret drinking chamber, the bartender, clad in 1930s apparel, greets you at the door and ushers you to the bar or table where you order from a menu of mad scientist type concoctions, all featuring one single giant ice cube and pretentious, yet wonderful, ingredients such as rose water and absynth. There's also an old-fashioned piano that would normally have someone keying it if it weren't for the fact that it was broken.

I only bring this special occasion up because it got me thinking about the allure of secret back rooms. Every since I was a little girl I've always wondered 'what goes on in there?' It started with the closets in my teachers' classrooms. You know the one: the tiny room she would disappear to and then bring confiscated toys or aging textbooks out of. It was truly fascinating. So fascinating that I spent a lot of time in my own closet at home, building forts, rearranging my shelves of My Little Ponies and making secret pacts with friends out of my parents' ear reach.

Now I've never been to a strip club except in Vegas - the Disneyland version of sin, so it doesn't count - but as my male friends will tell me, the back room has a great deal of attraction in these type of establishments as well. Casinos, bars, nightclubs, banks, designer clothing stores, wineries, uppity restaurants, sneaker shops... they all have a secret back room or two that we'd love to get into. But why exactly? Why does VIP hold any appeal? Why does the fact that something is 'secret' and exclusive make it so intriguing? It's true, there's some back rooms you hope to avoid, like the judge's chambers or the back room at the vets or HIV clinic. But generally speaking, we love a good secret. And once it's no longer exclusive or it's too popular we brush it aside like stale hamburger meat. Ick, gross, don't want to go there.

I'm not suggesting we do away with these places. Like I said, my fascination with them began in childhood, but I would like to hear your opinions on the motivation behind their existence and subsequent cultural obsession. What's the psychology there? Is it healthy? Or do these places represent a darker side of ourselves that we'd do best to avoid? I can't wait to hear your feedback. Until then, I'm going to try to find someone to get me into Magic Castle once and for all, damnit!

Beware of Dog... Really???!!!

Here's the thing, I simply don't trust people who post 'Beware of Dog' signs. Take my neighbor across the street. You know what his sign said to me before I even caught a glimpse of him? Macho guy, doesn't respect women, drinks cheap beer and probably has tattoos. Stereotyping? Nope. Dead on. I won't get into it, but let's just say there's a small battle going on between my roommate and his over-sized pick-up truck that he consistently parks in front of our house even when his own curb is free and clear. Not only that, but he parks four feet behind every car instead of pulling up to allow another vehicle to park. Besides, I think if you have to warn people that your dog is a dick, then you probably are one too. Oh, and I caught him carrying home a 12 pack of Natty Ice - tattoos visibly present - so once again, ladies and gentlemen of the court, I've proven my case.

If I had my way, I'd swap out all the 'Beware of Dog' signs of the world with one of the following, all of which can apply to men who put up these signs (honestly, I highly doubt women thinks, 'oh you know what this gate needs?... a giant police sketch of a snarling dog!'):

1.) Beware of Ego
2.) Beware of Machismo
3.) Beware of my Enormous Beer Belly
4.) Beware of Domestic Abuse
5.) Beware of Noxious Gas
6.) Beware of Small Phallus

There you go! Now we're really being honest. It's not your dog we should be aware of, but you. Nope, I simply don't trust people with 'Beware of Dog' signs. 'Beware of Cat' signs... now there's someone I can drink a glass of sherry with.

Introducing Your New LA Frugal Living Examiner...

Never one to hold back my warped views of the world, I now have the pleasure of introducing my new frugal way of life to a larger audience. Please check me out at Examiner.com where I am the new LA Frugal Living Examiner (under Home & Living, Los Angeles) to keep up with my journey into the land of 'living in my means'. As for this blog, it's back to my blackhearted discussions of love, friendship, fun and adventure. So for more frugal tips, advice and thoughtful reflections go to http://www.examiner.com/x-4969-LA-Frugal-Living-Examiner. Thanks, everyone! And stay cheap...

Frugal Thought #4: Just Say No

Ever since I went freelance my motto has been 'Yes!' Yes to travel. Yes to adventure. Yes to fun. Yes to life. But being frugal and saving money is not about 'yes': it's about 'no'. And what an ugly word that can be...'no'. It can mean no leisurely Sunday brunches with friends, no weekend getaways, no dinner and dancing, no overpriced movies, no round trip plane tickets to see my boyfriend in Nashville, no cocktails that don't come from the well... no damn fun.

Grocery shopping has become just about the essentials. I can't even remember the last time I allowed myself to splurge on sparkling water or vegan cookies at Trader Joe's. Going out has become an anxiety inducing trauma as I become the annoying 'poor' friend who brings everyone down and reminds them what life was like in college. So what do I do instead? Workout. Read. Listen to music. Write. Watch Oprah. All great activities, but all a bit lonely.

Perhaps I need to find some poor starving artists like myself who live cheap and free and happy and take up with them. Plant some organic carrots, learn how to sew, travel the Renaissance Fair circuit selling homemade jewelry, play my banjo on the street corner, sell oranges by the freeway, turn in bottles and cans for cash or wrangle up some nude modeling gigs at an art school for the blind.

For now, though, it looks likes I'm just going to have to embrace my new life of 'no'. Take it like a pro and stop complaining. It's just hard when your heart says 'yes' but your head insists on the logical. Perhaps someday in the near future I'll be able to turn that frown upside down and scream from the mountain tops, "Yes, yes, yes! Fill up my Whole Foods salad container until it brakes the scale, pass the bottle of Belvedere, take me through the Starbucks drive-thru, fork over that soy chorizo scramble with a side of $3 avocado slices!" Here's hoping that day comes sooner than later... because man am I hungry.

Frugal Thought #3: Blood, Sweat & Tears

I have a new obsession, and I'm afraid it's not very socially acceptable. So (deep breath) here goes... I'm obsessed with... blood. I can't stop myself. It all started with my frantic reading of all four Twilight novels until the wee hours in the morning and then led to my current addiction to HBO's True Blood (I'm only on episode 7, so please, no spoilers.) But apparently it's not the vampires I'm obsessed with but the hemoglobin itself because I did the unthinkable recently and signed up with the Red Cross to donate my own O positive life force.

With my new frugal lifestyle in mind, and the constant inner guilt from listening to the KCRW pledge drive with my broke hands tied, I decided what better way to give back when you're down and out then to give your time. LA Works has an amazing site (http://www.laworks.com/HomePage/index.php/home.html) where you can view a calendar of volunteer opportunities in LA over many months and instantly sign up. A huge array of organizations use them to recruit, so you could find yourself doing anything from building wheelchairs to feeding the homeless in the Mission District. (I recently signed up with a friend for the Tree People project this Saturday, but that's for another blog.)

Let's face it, though, some of us don't even have time and sweat to give to planting trees, so that leads to my bright idea to donate myself... my blood, that is. Look at the Red Cross website (https://www.givelife.org/index_flash.cfm?thisHB=02/10/2009%2010:50:24) for a location near you. It only takes about 20 minutes of your day and you get some free cookies and juice afterward, which to a starving writer with a sweet tooth (or should I say, fang), is more than enough incentive. Plus, if you find yourself shedding a tear or two at the sight of a needle in your arm, the more you've given of yourself to the cause. Bravo, I say. Blood, sweat and tears trump money any day.