A friend of mine worked on this new app called One Second Everyday, it’s a super cool idea if you can commit to just one second of video from a day in your life, check it out!
Apparently I really like my cats, my mom and Grand Central Station. Enjoy!
Last Wednesday February thirteenth, my very best friend in the world, my BFF, my Anne, suffered an aneurysm and died. She left behind a loving husband, a precious three year old son, an incredibly loving family of Hurleys, and a slew of amazing friends from around the globe. I’ve known Anne for thirty years since we were classmates at Westlake High School. We used to say we were hetero life partners and even had to convince our neighbors when we lived together that we weren’t gay. We loved each other that much. She was beautiful, she was a ham. She stole Carrie Fisher’s pillow case on a flight and gave it to me for my birthday.
We hiked Half Dome in Yosemite on our birthdays one September. We stayed up a bit late the night before polishing off some serious wine, and celebrated afterwards with more wine, and pizza.
Happy New Year everyone! I selfishly had so much fun writing last year’s Woodsy recap that I thought I’d sit down, have a tasty beverage, and reflect on all the events that took place, or I took place in, “wink wink” this last year. I also welcome the challenge of only being able to pick a few select nuggets out of all that excitement! And away we go….
So in January, I rediscovered Instagram. I signed up for it when it first launched a couple of years ago and just didn’t get it. Facebook, Hipstamatic, Tumblr, Flickr – it’s all too much!! But I decided to give IG another chance and was instantly hooked! I felt like an amateur photographer – I looked at everything around me differently, imagining different filters, angles, and wondered “Is this IG worthy?” I spent this year capturing moments, places, people, thoughts. I followed friends and others who’s lives I admired, dogs I adored, cars I coveted. My friends became annoyed with me constantly on my iphone like a teenager. Instagram is like a window into your world that you’re willing to share with others. I think it can be amazing. Facebook for me became a thing of the past until they bought Instagram – that was a bummer #bigtime. Continue reading
Have a great holiday y’all!!
(hair courtesy Sally James of Me Me salon!)
So Ashley Eckstein, who plays the voice of Ahsoka Tano in Star Wars: The Clone Wars asked me to drum up some geek girls for her article and photo shoot at New York Comic Con last Thursday for the New York Times. Ashley is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met and we were all thrilled! I grabbed my friends Jen, Laura, Stefanie, Shelley and Christa and we made the cut!!
1. The term used when a prisoner hides contraband up inside his person – Keystering – and thank you Dad for that detailed description.
2. Inmates can ferment fruit and packets of bbq sauce into wine, taste at own risk.
3. Inmates can make a sharp knife out of toilet paper, kind of like paper mache style.
4. Prison guards steal any mail they may want, e.g. magazine subscriptions, packages of food, electronics.
4. Contrary to prison life in movies, inmates don’t have computers or access to the Internet, unless you’re Martha Stewart.
5. Inmates don’t ask other inmates what they are in for unless they offer you their sentencing papers.
6. The prison pecking order starting from lowest to highest is: sex offenders, including pedafiles and rapists, law enforcement, informants, drug dealers, murderers (but not of children).
7. If your Dad’s appellate attorney is the same as Phil Spector’s, be careful what you may write about Phil Spector.
8. MCI is a racket and has the toe-hold on the collect calls. Rumor has it sometimes they purposely drop calls so you have to pay for the first minute again.
9. Stamps are considered a form of currency.
10. If you are in a prison fight, even if you’re the one being beaten and not beating, they’ll put you in the hole.
Continued from Chapter 2.
The next day after Dad’s arraignment I can barely get out of bed, even though I still had not fallen asleep. I think for a split second about overdosing on my anti-depressants and then realize I can never do that to my mom. We continually fear the family assets being seized and need to secure funds for the attorneys. We are told it can be in the millions. I envision myself losing everything I own and moving in with friends.
Dad like to spread his wealth around several banks. He’d keep cash and paperwork in safe deposit boxes, kind of like a kid with hidden cookie jars. I visit all the local banks, giving them my elevator pitch, asking the tellers if my dad, who’s just been arrested for murder by the way, by chance had a bank account or safe deposit box at their bank. I have no time to sugar coat anything. The typical response is one of total disbelief and then a mad dash is made for the nearest manager. I am beginning to enjoy this.
I am wearing the same Old Navy khakis and tee shirt for the third day in a row as I wait in line, head in a dense fog, at Bank of America. I glance over to my left and in the other line is Greg Robinson, my Mormon prom date from high school 14 years ago. What a putz. Why God why? He notices me as I throw him a stone cold stare, and he quickly looks away.
Continued from Chapter One:
My first visit to the strip clubs felt like a rite of passage and I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t allowed to go to other nightclubs. There was a roller disco in West Hollywood called Flippers that was THE place to go in the 70’s. I asked Dad repeatedly if he knew someone there that could get me in but he said no.
“I don’t understand why, I mean all I want to do is skate, I’m not going to drink and I’ve already been inside strip clubs.” He just laughed. “Lip, it’s because you’re only ten, that’s why.”
At the time Dad was arrested for murder he had owned the Jet Strip for twenty years. After Mac’s death, he found a new business partner, David. David was tall, dark, handsome, polite and British. I had a huge crush on him. Previously a boxer in the UK, Dad had met David through mutual friends and hired him to be a manager. Dad treated David like a son; he even went on family vacations with us and spent most holidays at our house. Mac was never a fan of David.
The day Dad was arrested, David asked Dad to lunch at Jerry’s Deli in the valley. The restaurant had been wiretapped by the D.A.’s office and David who had been arrested earlier discussed the murder with Dad on tape and entrapped him. They arrested Dad at the deli and immediately sent police out to raid the house and all the clubs. The entire lunch was a sting operation and the restaurant was filled with undercover cops.
We learned all this from Vicki, one of Dad’s criminal defense attorneys, who calls the house soon after Jack the private investigator left. I didn’t even know Dad had attorneys. But he had hired Vicki and Richard two months before his arrest, trying to negotiate their rate. Vicki doesn’t explain too much. Continue reading
I find every year to be full of so many events, I really need start writing them all down. Some funny, some sad, many shameful but never any regrets. I started off the year strong, my 2011 resolution was to get back into shape after eating and boozing my way through the Big Apple these last few years.
So in January off I went to Park City, Utah with friends for a ski trip. My second run of the second day I skied past the Glory Hole run with my friend Tim, who said he was “gonna hit that.” He made me laugh hard and took off ahead of me. I turned to the right, still laughing, caught an edge and fell hard down the hill. Why I always fall underneath the busiest ski lift I’ll never understand, so I had quite an audience.
As I tumbled, I could feel my left ski turning one way and my left leg turning the other until I heard a loud snap, like the world’s largest rubber band. I was lovingly taken care of by hottie ski patrolmen–one was named Tinker, no really. In the end I tore my ACL completely but the experience led me to discover my new favorite drink, the pickle back. We went to the Sundance Lodge, I had to hobble in my crutches and knee brace. Tim ordered us a round of pickle backs – a shot of Jameson followed by a shot of pickle juice. Initially disgusted, I was quickly proven wrong. Tell me what you think. Continue reading
Last week I went home to my precious motherland of Los Angeles to visit family, friends and pops in prison. I was looking forward to palm trees, beautiful weather, driving and my staple Chin Chin Chinese chicken salad. I arrived Wednesday evening and on Thursday spent a day of relaxation at my new-found gem Korean spa. I partook in an hour-long body scrub, a milk massage and dipped into the hot, medium and cold jacuzzis – refreshing. The next day I continued my spa week by getting a facial. My facial went longer than expected and I had a meeting at 3pm. I looked at the clock and decided I could either squeeze in a quickie mani-pedi or get my favorite Chinese chicken salad and Chin Chin’s on Sunset. 20 years ago, I used to work at Playboy on Sunset Boulevard. It was my first job after college. I used to eat that damn Chinese chicken salad about three times a week and I still craved it after all these years.
