My IBS can trump even Jimmy Kimmel...

So one of the things we were really looking forward to in California was going to the Jimmy Kimmel show. He is my favorite nighttime talk show host. The three of us were dressed in bright colors with nice scarves so that we would get picked to sit down in front. We had everything planned out, we had our tickets, our outfits, our hair and makeup, you name it, nothing could get screwed up. Except of course, my secret internal archenemy, my intestinal tract. It always seems to know just when to start acting up. I think it's been having a discussion with my teenage daughter on how to make my life miserable. Like clockwork, the rumbling started when we were waiting to go through the first security check. I tried to convince the skeptical lady that the fog horn she heard was my new cellphone ring tone, but she definitely wasn't buying it. When we were seated in the row right behind the cameraman, it was just so exciting I thought I would explode, and so did my descending colon. I think I must have burned a Zumba class worth of calories just squirming in my seat. I'm sure the guy sitting next to me thought I had some kind of undiagnosed central nervous system problem. It really was fun, and we made it through the 90 minute taping unscathed.  Next time we go I plan to sit closer to the band because maybe they'll think it's the trumpet they hear instead of my stomach.

Really, it's not that hard to imagine driving off Mulholland Drive...

So, one of the many things you must do when in California (or so we were told), is to take a drive down Mulholland Drive. 

The following are words I'd use to describe this road:

winding (whose idea was it to put a road on top of a mountain) 
scenic (I'm assuming; the only thing I ever saw were the floor mats)
breathtaking (don't forget your nebulizer)
awe inspiring (how did the contractors ever get building permits )
fast paced (the guy driving behind us might as well have been sitting in my lap, or at least have put a dollar tip in my underwear)
glamorous (it definitely pays to go to acting school)
hair-raising (never have I seen such a large percentage of toupees in convertibles in one place)
untamed (the rattlesnake and mountain lion warning signs were a little unnerving)

It was fun, and challenging, and oh so memorable, and next time I promise I'll open my eyes!

Smackdown: Sensible Moms vs Sexy Nightclub...

So, when we got to California, we had all kinds of plans to see famous people. After reading People magazine, it occurred to us that the best place to do this would be at the infamous Chateau Marmont. We were hoping to see all the most famous starlets and their hunks engaging in debauchery and shenanigans. After circling three times, we pulled up in our totally unsexy mom mobile and rolled down the back window. My friend, in her best Irish whisper, yelled out "where are the clubs, the clubs? You know, the clubs where all the stars go?". The extremely uninterested and super sexy valet sauntered slowly over and took a long look inside our rental and was like "you've got to be kidding me, you're a car full of old chicks". Not to be dissuaded, and after much convincing, he parked our car and sent us to the bar. Well, we were ushered to a lovely table where a girl in a satin nightie and garter belt took our order. She was so young and sweet, I wanted to give her a bathrobe to wear and sign her up for night classes. We ordered a sexy cheese platter and some exotic sounding cocktails and waited for Prince and the Revolution to show up. Let me tell you, the only shenanigans we had were our own, because our drinks were so stiff we were laughing our asses off  after just a few sips. It just goes to show you don't have to wear your lingerie out in public to have a hot tootin' good time.