Life in the trenches

I once had a job that required me to be the company's official Gun Safety Officer. Which honestly sounds like a kick-ass title, but as most government related jobs really just amounted to a whole lot of paperwork. To get certified, I was required to attend a 4 hour training class, to learn all about transferring guns. The class covered basic gun transportation safety, checking to see if the chambers were clear on 4 varieties of weapons: revolver, automatic, rifles, and shot guns, and the landslide of paperwork involved with the sales or transferring of guns. Let me say, right now, I didn't grow up around guns, and if I am really honest, I admit they scare me a little.
Anywho, back to the story...
So, I head out to the certification training at some San Jose hotel ballroom. I had to continue on to work after the course, so I was dressed for the office. Hot pink and burgundy loop tweed suit -- think Jackie O in Dallas-- big hair, hose and heels, and because it was fall a large pashmina wrapped around me. I was running late --no surprise there-- and hauled ass from the parking lot to make the 8:15 check in time.
I checked the posted meeting signs in the lobby, and set off in the direction of the ballroom. Doors are already closed. "Damn! Just going to have to talk my way in... hope the registration person is a man or a lesbian in a good mood. "
I swing the doors open and the first thing I noticed was a the weird smell in the air; sort of a melange of WD40, aqua velva, leather, unwashed hair, and some industrial food smell wafting over from the Rotary club in the next ball room. Yeah, it was some sort of funk.
That was quickly followed by the realization that almost everyone in the room was wearing camo and looked like scarier variations of Bo Radley.
But striding out of that mass of camo came a tshirt, jeans, and cowboy boot clad stallion of a man--my brain decided to put him in slow motion and play the cascading guitar intro to Bon Jovi's Dead or Alive. Then my rational side spotted that he carried an all important clip board! "Are you Belinda?" I nodded and swallowed to bring some moisture back to my mouth. The rational side of my brain was gearing up for a debate to get me into the class, the other part of my brain was mesmerized by the fact this hunk of beefcake was the teacher. "Follow me, we saved you a seat up at the front, I thought there might have been a mistake. As you can see, I don't get many women at these things. To which I replied "I find it hard to believe you have a hard time getting women. -- let me interrupt this story for a moment to explain a personal "tic" of mine. I get nervous a round good looking men, especially ones that are speaking to me. When this happens my "tic" kicks in-- I say things that are either exceedingly racy or exceedingly moronic. Like Buddy Hackett dirty or Lennie from Of Mice and Men, moronic.--
As I followed him, I popped off that little gem followed by "I mean come on, who wouldn't want to come handle your tools." he turned and half smiled pointed to a chair in the first row.
After two hours explaining the transferring of weapons, that seriously could have been covered in 45 minutes, the practical exam prep began. I suffer from extreme test anxiety, so I was delighted to have 4 different people ask to be my practice partner. I chose the second guy who asked, the first guy looked like he had stalker potential.
One of the tests covered our knowledge of how to check to see there are no rounds in the chamber. On semi-automatic guns, while keeping the gun at a 45 degree angle pointed away from any living thing, you pull the slide back and visually inspect the chamber. "This is so easy!" I kept thinking. I looked around at my fellow students and thought, "if these bottom feeders can do this, I will breeze through the test". But as a good friend would tell me years later-- God don't like ugly.
It was time for the test I rotated through the revolver, the heavy weapons -- shot gun, and rifles, and planned to finish with my Instructor hottie with the semi-automatic. I let my partner go first with the semi. It was a Glock 9mm, silver, a well balanced gun made originally for the Austrian army in the early 80s. He passed and got deducted 1 point for not staying aware of his 45 degree angle way from live things. My leg was the live thing, and apparently only worth 1 point. Rude! I was up next.
I give my little speech about the transfer information. Public speaking is a strength so I was adding a bit extra info. I then picked up the gun explaining the 45 degree trajectory angle and the importance of being aware of what was behind the partition wall in case the gun went off. Well pleased of myself, I reached down the barrel and pulled the slide back into the rack, pinching a nice portion of my right palm right into the rack as well. Man, did that hurt. The men taking the test in front of me, and behind me all started to yell. My test partner actually yelled, "We need first aide here!" and ran off out of the ballroom.
Me, I didn't move the gun out of the 45 degree position. I was in serious pain, but I wasn't going to let it get the better of me. I slowly looked up at the instructor and asked to be reminded where the release was. The instructor spoke to me in a low voice and pointed to a small button. I kept the gun in a 45 degree angle and released the slide and thus my hand, and placed the gun on the table. I was bleeding steadily and was applying pressure waiting for some bandages. Men had gathered and were freaking out about the blood. To which I got to say my favorite movie line ever -- thank you Michelle Pfeiffer-- "Boys, boys calm down, it is only a little blood and I see more than that once every month. "
I passed the test with no points deducted and the respect of the instructor who commented that I was so cool under pressure--ha! And thus began my time as the company Gun Safety Officer/Executive Assistant to the Chairman of the Board.
This certificate in the coming years led to conversations that started like this, "hey the ATF inspector is coming by next week... you know that machine gun ...".

The joy of shopping with other people's money...legally

In my many years as an assistant I have been tasked to come up with gifts that are unique and make an impression. It all started with a boss that went on a retreat and connected with a man whose personal philosophy was driven by the story of Don Quixote and some pilgrimage to La Mancha . She told me all about her "break through" she experienced because of this man, and how she wanted to honor his philosophy with a gift. She asked me to find something "windmill-y" or inspirational or from La Mancha-- oh, and I need a few options by noon. It was 11:02.
I was 25. I lived at home, I hadn't traveled, I hadn't really done anything notable in my life, except one thing; I knew how to shop. The internet was just starting to go main stream. At the time, I thought I was pretty hot stuff knowing about eBay.
As I typed in Don Quixote into the search field, I wondered who would have La Mancha related merchandise. Surprisingly, quite a few people. So I had options on her desk at 11:25. Three days later, we mailed out a wooden Don with a fawning note. My boss was delighted and thought I was so clever. Me, I discovered the joy of spending other people's money, especially wealthy people's money.

Here is a list of my go to places for impression-making gift giving:

Gumps -- San Francisco based. www.gumps.com
Home gifts, desk related, stationery.
Where the SF elite register for their weddings. Where hipsters who made some internet money go to upgrade their newly purchased SoMa loft with their freshly minted money.

The Paris Market & Brocante -- Savannah, GA based http://www.theparismarket.com
Home gifts, strange items, bath products, medical specimens-- really.
It is like walking into the attic of your old southern aunt who traveled in her youth and now tends to hoard.

The Red Flower - New York based http://www.redflower.com
Organic -- key in these green times-- candles and bath products.
Still a bit undiscovered, which raises its cache. As soon as Oprah finds out about this place, everyone will order here.

Bubbles - old college haunt that has delighted more than a few Los Angelistas
http://www.bubbles-arcata.com/
Hippy, dippy, and everything that is right with small batch bath products. The essential oils are combined to make scents that stay on your skin and in your memory banks. Special shout out for the Rain scent. Humboldt County knows its pot and its rain. No, Bubbles doesn't make THC or hemp scented products.

Cupcakes are a go to item. Here are my bi-coastal favs:
http://www.cupcakecafe-nyc.com
Cupcakes topped with icing flowers so pretty they can bring a tear to your eye. They deliver in Manhattan.

http://www.susiecakesla.com/
The first cupcake place to put icing inside the cupcake. Also, they do holiday themed cupcakes-- Halloween cupcakes that would make those smug stay-at-home-moms shut up about their organic locally farmed slowcooked bananazucchinicarrot bread contribution to the school bake sale.

My newest find is The Mindful Nest
www.mindfulnest.com
Two shops in one; a local artisan collective whose pieces have a unique sense of humor and style along with a bath products shop in the back called klean. Klean's founder concocts her magical soaps, candles, and home fragrances with names like Beach House, Winter Spirit and Sea.

OK and one more goody. Need to send champagne for a great opening weekend box office? Going to your buddy's house for dinner and want to take a bottle that doesn't break the bank. When in the market for wines, stogies, chocolate, and booze--call up my little gem, Red Carpet Wine in Glendale. You get A+ service, access to some of the best pricing in the basin and they ship everywhere. I like their website, but call for best service. And seriously, you don't need a G4 to afford to shop there, they have some of my favorite bargain wines.
www.redcarpetwine.com

Happy shopping with your or someone else's money!

One of the perks of working in entertainment--free screenings!

Working in the entertainment industry on a day to day basis is like any other job. There are good days and there are days that are soul crushing. But the perks don't suck. Today, for instance the hub and I attended a screening at the Academy of Television. Disney was screening The Princess and the Frog followed by a discussion panel with the Directors. I thought the movie was a return to true Disney 2D greatness. During the screening I noted how much it was visually reminiscnet of Lady and the Tramp, and at the same time looked so fresh. There are magical moments and there are moments that I found scary and could scare the pants off young children. But then honestly this new generation of movie goers yuk it up at movies that terrify me.

Perhaps it is my Catholic upbringing, being raised with the Latin side of my family with our superstitions and penchant for believing in the supernatural or that I was mostly an only child that created and lived in imaginary worlds in my head. As an example, the Halloween and Elm Street franchises scare the crap out of me. I understand that most younger people just think those movies are hilarious. The more gore, the bigger laughs. I am such a pussy that I deemed the recent horror movie, "Paranormal" too scary to see. Instead, I decided to read the wiki outline of the plot including the spoilers-- big mistake. The wiki freaked me out. That night when I was awoken by our cat at 3:33 I was terrified. Which is ridiculous because he wakes me up almost every night at that time. Hmm, perhaps it is the other side...oooooo!

Here we go...

Hello Blogosphere!


What do I want to talk about? I don't know...everything. Food, travel, things that piss me off, stories of what happened to me or "a friend of mine"-- allegedly-- tips to cool little known joints to get cool stuff, reviews of places I visit, and other random ramblings.



I am not looking to change the world, be famous, or get published. Who has time for that? I have finally arrived to take my rightful place among the chatteratti. Facebook Posts are fine, but I wanted a virtual soapbox of my own. So Merry Christmas to myself!