Goin' Out In Style

Final Stop: Palm Springs

On the final day of our sunshine sweep, we packed up our tent and cocktail hut and hit the road for Palm Springs. Upon a recommendation from the one and only Matt Graves, we dropped in for brunch at The Parker Hotel Palm Springs. Not only did we feel like celebrities hanging out in this super stylie locale, but it turned out that we were among them. It's true! Jay Z and Beyonce showed up while we were on our tour of the grounds. Had I spotted her before she placed her order, I would have tipped off Miss "Be" to get the Mango Lobster Salad. Yum.

After our first real meal in days, we took off for our spa appointments in Desert Hot Springs. Best. Idea. Ever--by the way. It turns out that a deep tissue massage and a few hours in the outdoor mineral hot springs is the winning recipe for xtreme festival recovery. Plus, we got to use their shower, which meant no more need for germ-defending flip flops.

And we almost passed ourselves off as buttoned up spa-goers...until our exhaustion kicked in. At that point, Jen accidentally dropped her panties next to the front desk where some lady in gold boots picked them up for her. Meanwhile, I was busy ripping off my festival bracelets with my teeth. It was time to go home.

When You Were Little...

Now that a lot of my friends are having kids, I’ve been thinking more about those early predictors of adult personality. It’s provided us endless entertainment to guess which of their idiosyncratic baby traits might be indicative of things to come. For the past year or so, Heb and I have wondered if her little boy (new pics just in!) might grow up to own the clubbing scene based on his undeniably fly dance moves. Or if maybe he’ll be a music critic, we’ve considered, since he really does have discriminating tastes. Right now he’s in a retro phase where he’s all about shakin’ it to Elvis. Well, if either happens, don’t say we didn’t see it coming.

When I look back at myself and some of my friends, there’s no denying that our childhood selves provided some big clues as to who we’d become. My friend Gwen is a perfect example. I met her in gymnastics class when we were 5 and was immediately drawn to her crafty ideas—not to mention her true appreciation of my weekly innovations in mischief.

By age 8, Gwen had learned to sew and knit from her mother and was “designing” fabulous outfits in her Trapper Keeper notebooks. By age 14, she had opened her own necktie business, adorably called “All Tied Up” which she launched just in time to cater to the private school boys who, now that we were in high school, would be forced to wear ties every day. A designer, entrepreneur and savvy little marketer before she hit puberty, it was clear that this girl was going places.

One of our childhood pursuits that Gwen and I laugh about today is the informercial that we concepted, wrote and "produced" when we were about 11. The idea stemmed from the fact that a mother of one of the girls on our gymnastics team wore black pants—every single day—

because she found them to be “slimming.” For some reason (likely the onset of our pre-teen bitchy phase), we found this to be staggeringly hilarious and began devising a response in the form of a pretend new product: a pair of black pants that came with various accessories to disguise the fact that one was always wearing the same thing.

Soon after dedicating ourselves to this creative endeavour, Gwen slept over one night and we skipped the usual 11-year-old-girl stuff (you know, crank calling boys and watching and rewatching Adventures in Babysitting) in favor of working on our “Black Pants” project. We locked ourselves in my pink and green bedroom for hours while she designed, among other clever accessories, removable Velcro pockets that came in all different materials and patterns. Meanwhile, I wrote the script, named the accessory variations and art directed the “production,” which I think we performed for a reluctant audience consisting of my mother…who probably just wanted to watch Dallas and be left alone at that point in the evening.

Years later, I came upon the script along with Gwen’s designs while cleaning out a bedroom closet. Aside from the fact that my spelling was atrocious (even more so than today), our Black Pants product and infomercial was basically awesome. And when I read the script to her over the phone more than a decade later, we again found it to be staggeringly hilarious. (View part of our original script and be sure to note my spelling. I'm particularly shamed by "pare of pants.")

So you must be wondering how Gwen turned out. Wouldn’t it be funny if I went on to explain how she had become an astronomer or a database programmer…or an expert in preserving the native languages of South America? Well, she didn’t. Gwen went on to study Apparel Design and Management at Cornell. And since then, she‘s become a recognized entrepreneur, "changing the way America does laundry" when she launched The Laundress, an “eco-chic line of specialty detergent and fabric care.” Together she and her business partner, Lindsey, jet set all over the world, spreading the gospel on fabric care: You need never dry clean again! And the good people yell amen! (See above pic, Gwen on the left, and another cute one here.)

And me? Well, I’m busy writing scripts, naming products and working with art directors, of course. And when I’m not doing that, I’m pretty much exploring innovations in mischief. Occasionally, I get a call from Gwen who wants some help fleshing out another one of her crafty ideas, which I’m always thrilled to do. After all, I’m still really drawn to them.

Who knows? Perhaps one day Heb's son will have some downtime between prestigious dancing engagements and he'll go on tour with Gwen and her fabulous Laundress crew, working as a dancer in one of their informercials. And we will have seen it coming.

Gwen with her laundry, as a youngster

Twenty Ten: In It To Win It

It's official: 2009 has been 86ed...and none to soon. As you know, it wasn't exactly my most, err, graceful year, so I was READY to unwrap a shiny, new decade. After returning from the motherland, I unpacked my Christmas presents (including an "I Survived Swine '09" long-sleeved shirt from my sister), repacked some long underwear, and declared myself ready for a week in Tahoe. A few hours later, my friend BC (of 80s party fame), his cute snowboarder friend and I took off for the mountains with 3 Mission burritos in tow.

A note on cute snowboarder friend (Ms. Jenny Ziemba, pictured above): Celebrity Alert! Among other snowboardery-type accomplishments, she competed in the X Games. Fo' reals. See last paragraph here. Not related but also awesome: she taught me how to pick the right bikini to ensure a favorable position in the Hawaiian surf line-up. In exchange, I taught her about this reflective Mac mineral powder that adds an "ultra-deluxe polish to the face." And our winning idea later that night? Wear said powder on ass to score an ultra-deluxe line-up position. Move over computer support nerds, there's some new Mac geniuses on the scene.

After a few days at Tahoe house #1, we moved on to Tahoe house #2 where we met up with our New Year's crew. Upon arrival, I was pleased to find that our place not only had a large outdoor hot tub, but it also sported a living room with one of those overstuffed chair-and-a-half things that I can't seem to get enough of. Side note: Every time I've ever sat in one of them, I've found myself curiously content and almost instantly asleep. They're like the Valiums of the furniture world...without the unsafe interaction with alcohol. Win!

Over the next few days, we learned to snowboard at the Northstar Burton Academy. While this admittedly sounds prestigious and may conjure images of us taking exams on the physics of snow and balance, a more accurate depiction would be us wiping out on the baby hill, envying the moves of the 3 year olds who were whizzing by us. Upon graduation, however, we were thrilled to receive high marks from our instructor, "Adam A", which I'm considering adding to my resume under the Education section. ("Toe-side turns, December 2009, Cum Laude")*

After a full-on murder mystery dinner hosted by the one and only Senor Croan accompanied by some good 'ole fashioned New Year's debauchery + various hot tubbing victories, we 86ed 2009, welcoming the onset of twenty ten. Then, with This American Life stories playing on the radio and plenty of Advil to counteract snowboarding injury awareness, we made our way back to SF.

Following the lead of the soon-to-be Mrs. Croan, I'll be tackling the new year with a renewed sense of hope and vigor, having declared that I, too, am "In It to Win It." Hells yeah!


*yep, still an athlete, damnit!

"A guy from small town NJ"

For those of you who haven't heard me kvell about Heb's little bro, Travis, and his uberhip restaurant in Venice Beach, the time has come. Vogue featured him in their January 2009 issue in a piece called "Date with Destiny" and I'm brimming with pride. Apparently, our little Trav is part of "a new generation of talent...blazing its way to superstardom." Hells yeah he is! Check it:

Small print above reads:

"My job as a chef is to kind of get out of the way, says Travis Lett. That which he’s making room for includes heirloom tomatoes, spinach, and kale—fantastic locally grown goodies that this 31-year-old chef uses to make dishes to richly colored, one might mistake them for works by Howard Hodgkin. Lett’s restaurant, Gjelina, opened in 2008 in Venice, CA. “We”—Lett has two partners, including an Albanian who supplied the name—“set out to open a modest, humble restaurant.

They succeeded. Gorgeous hipsters* pack the place for dishes like pizza with shaves asparagus, shallot confit, farm egg, sottocenere al tartfuo, and Parmesan. It’s the stuff of dreams for a guy from small town New Jersey who saw himself as an artist [and still keeps a studio]."

Note: Chatham, NJ has really proven itself over the past few years. Not only did we produce Trav, who is blazing his way to culinary superstardom, but we also churned out Francis Koenig, better known to his home town locals as "Marty." And what did our Marty do? Well, he founded AdultVest, the first institutional investment company focusing exclusively on sex industry related investments, which I can assure you, involved blazing in one form or another. Yeah boy!

Stay tuned for more superstars from the 07928.

*such as Heb and me

Famous! (By Association)

So my friend Sherry is kind of famous, which means I'm friends with famous people...which means I'm, well,.....friends with famous people? OK, fine. It doesn't mean much about me, per se, but it's still exciting!

Sherry is a real, live artist who gets interviewed in trendy magazines and has a bio that includes coverage in The New Yorker and art showings in Mexico City. She practically needs her own clan of Secret Service people to follow her around.

The funny thing is that the agents would be trailing her from places like jumprope class to various Mission dive bars which means that, in order to blend in, they'd have to lose the dark suits and pick up some skinny jeans. And maybe they could follow her around on fixed gear bikes rather than in an Escalade--just to be sure that no one suspected them. Note: Secret Service agents would have way more fun trailing Sherry than Paris Hilton (who basically goes from her esthetician to her dietician to frat-boy clubs and 'round again). Just sayin'.

Anyway, Sherry had an art opening on Saturday night where she showed a set of paintings, including the one above. I'm the girl on the far right, and yes, I was wearing a Hooter's shirt (no comment). The idea behind the show was to feature the city's different creative communities and invite them to interact with one another at the opening. A jumproper herself, Sherry decided to paint some Double Dutchers, and I was lucky enough to be free the day she needed someone to pose for her. (Three cheers for Funemployment!)

The event was way fun, with everything from a sparkly drag performance to a saucy fashion show to spontaneous, Xtreme jump roping. Even the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence were there to kick off the night with a Shel Silverstein reading. (This may be the closest I ever get to interacting with members of a religious order.)

So, if you know any aspiring Secret Service agents lookin' for an internship, let them know the job of the Century is available. Trailing Ms. Sherry would be nothing short of wildly entertaining. Plus, this is who you'd be protecting.

I Saw Flight of the Conchords! Live!

...and can confirm that Bret and Jemain are just as cute in person as they are on TV. I don't want to make you jealous or anything, but I think they were sending a secret message to me when they performed my favorite number: the Hiphop-Potamus Vs. Rhymenocerous rap. Yee-ah! Check it:

I'll have you know that:

"Their rhymes are so potent that in that small segment
they made all of the ladies in the area pregnant.
Yeah that's right, sometimes their lyrics are sexist.
But you lovely b*tches should know that they're trying to correct this."

hahahhahaha