Saturday, November 28, 2009

Happy Leftovers!

                                                                      Anne Taintor

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Groomer Gal

Showering is such a lonely business. You stand there in your birthday suit, as warm water cascades down upon you, soothing your tired neck, washing all your cares away. Your mind starts to wander, and soon you’re under a Hawaiian waterfall with Brad Pitt and Angie’s somewhere in Germany or France or Zimbabwe with all those kids. It’s just you and Brad getting friendly. And then you remember that promise you made to stay environmentally faithful. This shower is supposed to be green, remember? Make it fast. There’s no time to linger with Brad. Scrub up, rinse off and get out. You’re done in five minutes. Hang on, you say, as you towel off. What about that old bumper sticker from the Sixties? You know the one: Save water, shower with a friend.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Home Entertainment

Sometimes the best home entertainment arrives, not via satellite dish, but courtesy of Mother Nature herself. “Come here,” my husband says. “You gotta see this.” I barely look up from the newspaper. I assume he wants to show me something sports-related on TV.  Unless it’s something spectacular, like the removal of Ann Coulter’s vocal cords live on “The View,” I’m sticking with Doonesbury. But no, the man insists I put down the funnies and join him by the window. “Don’t make any sudden moves,” he tells me. I tiptoe over. “This better be good.” Happily, the scene that unfolds doesn’t disappoint. It lives up to our expectations, and then some. It’s educational, enlightening and uplifting. The bushy-tailed star takes center stage on the patio, and it’s obvious he’s got mad skills. He doesn’t have to dig too deeply to find his motivation. Someone’s been stealing his walnuts, chomping ’em down whole. And guess what? He’s heated. It’s payback time.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Dream On

Anne Taintor, Chronicle Books

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Common Scents

I got the call while I was outside watering my bone-dry begonias. Naturally, I was honored, not to mention surprised. When a top perfumery asks to bottle your scent, it’s nothing to sneeze at.  Every celebrity on the planet has a signature fragrance, from the Olson Twins, Britney and Paris, to J. Lo, Gwyneth and Beyonce. It’s about time a major non-celeb such as myself got a crack at that multi-billion dollar market.  I’m still not sure how the folks at Odeurs Unlimited got wind of me, but clearly they smelled a winner from afar.  “I would like so much to spend zi day with you,” declared Madame Pheromone, Senior V.P. of Toiletry.  "You want to come here?” I gasped, imagining the hellish hours of housework ahead of me.  “Mais oui,” she answered Frenchly. “How else can I collect your essence?”

Friday, November 20, 2009

Switched At Birth?

Thursday, November 19, 2009

The Doctor Will See You Now

                                            Freudian Cigar

The other day, I went to a memorial for a dear family friend, held at the Silent Movie Theater on Fairfax.  The man was a beloved Hollywood publicist and the turnout was huge.  I grew up with his daughters and hadn't seen them in ages.  They're both in the biz.  One of them is a prominent casting agent I've had the pleasure of working with in the past.  When I walked up to give her a consoling hug, she got a funny look on her face. "Carol, are you still writing?"  I nodded.  Of course, I'm still writing. What else am I qualified to do? "Why do you ask?" I said.  "Well, I heard you'd become a therapist." My husband and I started to laugh.  "Only for my immediate family and friends," I said. "Who told you I was a therapist?"  "My sister heard about a therapist named Carol Schneider." "Huh," I said.  "I wonder what I'm charging."

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Beware of Llama

Hubby toasts potential llama acquistion

It’s my favorite time of year. We turn the clocks back, we gain an hour of sleep and my mailbox fills with the strangest assortment of holiday catalogues. Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa. Bring it on. I can’t get enough. I’m a junky. Despite the shaky economy, the opportunities to blow money are endless. I can buy a neon jukebox, a snow mobile, a five-foot tall steel menorah. I can even buy a llama. And seriously, why wouldn’t I? How many times does a llama come along? I’ve been around a while, and this is my first shot at purchasing livestock.  I’ll admit the llama option came as a surprise.

For $150, I could “light up a life with a llama.” For $5,000, I could spring for an entire ark. We’re talking cows, sheep, camels, oxen, pigs, goats. You get the picture. Two by two, that’s a lot of animals to feed.  As I flipped through the catalogue, debating how many llamas to buy, I couldn’t believe all the name-dropping going on in there. Jimmy Carter and Bill Clinton, Diane Lane and Susan Sarandon. Each one had something pithy to say about the healing nature of rabbits and water buffaloes.

I called up my husband at work to get his opinion on the matter. “Honey, how do you feel about llamas?” “Why do you ask?” he said. “Oh, I was thinking we could get one for Hanukkah. It would be the perfect gift for Scotty, don’t you think? What 18 year old wouldn’t love to have a llama? And it’s only $150.”

Hubby sounded less than enthused. “He’s going away to college soon. We’ll get stuck taking care of it.” “I know, but Susan Sarandon has two llamas, and she lives in New York City. Barbara Bush has cows. Bono has goats, sheep and donkeys. Bill Clinton has an alpaca, a flock of geese and four camels.” “Hmm,” my husband said. “Sounds pricey. Let me think about it.” “Okay, but don’t take too long. They might run out. I don’t want to back-order a llama. What fun is that?”

Next came a long sigh. I reminded him that my friend Connie has a burro named Cricket. “Listen, if you want a llama, if you really can’t live without one, go for it. What’s one more mouth to feed?” Is it any wonder why I married the man? I should’ve asked for a llama a long time ago. I called the toll-free number and waited to talk to a representative.  “Heifer International, how may I help you?” a woman said. “I’d like to buy a llama, please. I like the gray one on page 23.” “We can’t guarantee the color, ma’am.” “Why not?” “Sometimes they’re white. Is white okay?” “I guess I can live with white. But I prefer gray, if you can swing it.”

I gave her my credit card number and asked how soon I’d get my llama. “Hanukkah starts December 11,” I told her. “Will I have it by then? And does it come UPS?” “You don’t actually get the llama,” she said. “I don’t? Then why did I just pay for it?” “It’s a donation, ma’am.” “You’re telling me I don’t get a llama?” “That’s right, ma’am.” “What do I get?” “You get the satisfaction of knowing you’re bringing help, healing and hope to millions of impoverished families worldwide.” “One llama can do all that?” “One llama is a good start. You can donate as many animals as you like. We’re having a special on sheep this week, if you’re interested.” “I’ll just stick with the llama.” “How about a beehive? For another $30, you can help pollinate a village in Uganda.” “Did Susan Sarandon buy a beehive?” “She bought eight.” “I’ll take two beehives and one llama.” “Anything else?” “I’m done.” “If you change your mind, you know where to find us.”

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Short Jewish Gal Spotted In Sherman Oaks

For the past three years, I've been blogging on the wonderful as the Showbiz Kid, thanks to my dear friend Cathy Hamilton. You can find her hilarious take over at

I'll now be known as Short Jewish Gal, only because Show Biz Kid is taken, and anyway, who cares, because, let's face it, Short Jewish Gal describes me best. Sure, I've grown up in Show Biz, I've worked in Show Biz, and I have many deep thoughts on Show Biz. But in my heart, I'm an S.J.G. and always will be.

So, please hang in there with me as I figure this blogging thing out on my own. Cathy Hamilton promises to hold my hand, all the way from her perch in Lawrence, Kansas.

Here I am with eldest son Billy, who towers over me.  On a good day, I'm barely 5'2."