I just watched an episode of the Gilmore Girls - first season DVD from Pumpkin, yay - the one where Rory's grandfather takes her to the club to teach her how to play golf and show her off. And it made me miss my grandfather so much. He went to McDonald's every weekday morning. He and his buddies would gather and chat over coffee. They got the senior's discount, less than fifty cents a cup with free refills. Whenever I'd visit I'd go with him. I hated getting up so early to get out there while I was on vacation, but it seemed to mean so much to him that I had to do it. How can you let your grandfather down like that?
He'd always tell them what I was up to and make me discuss some class I was taking (he loved making me tell them about "the gay class" I took at Wesleyan) or mention where I worked. In recent years I'd often be hit up for stock tips or asked if the economy was improving or little things like that. Sometimes they'd ask me about New York or my mom. I'd go for refills for everyone and his friends would say how polite I was and he'd just beam. Sometimes he'd buy me breakfast if I didn't get up in time to have cinnamon raisin toast with him beforehad. And of course he'd give me a hard time about it. I always offered to pay, but he wouldn't hear of it. One of the last times I visited, a rental car screw up ended with me having a bright red truck for the trip. He loved it. Thought it was great and insisted on going everywhere in it, even though it probably wasn't easy for him to get in and out of it. And he pointed it out to all of his friends in McDonald's. His granddaughter was driving a badass truck. It was just such a grandfatherly thing, those trips to McDonald's. And it made me so happy to know that he was proud of me and that he wanted to show me off and talk about me. It's really nice to feel that loved. Especially by someone I loved so much.
I'm so grateful that I got to have those trips to McDonald's with him. I really am. But right now I think I'd give anything to be able to do it again. I hate knowing that I never will.
Saturday, July 31, 2004
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
ARGH
The latest search leading to my blog is "ended up a spinster". Seriously. The world hates me. I want to go back to being a dirty blog that people found because they wanted to be undressed in front of their auntie or wanted to see topless boys. This spinster thing is pissing me off. Grrrrr....
So, Dad and I want to be on The Amazing Race. Because we are awesome and we would kick ass. And frankly, the way this season is going, they need us. How can you go on a show called The Amazing Race and not have the ability to read a map? I don't understand that. Anyway, they're taking applications, but you have to get a video to them by August 11th. He's in Guam. I'm in New York. It's July 28th. We gotta figure something out. I'm going to try to persuade him to fly to New York for a day so that we can do a video. Seriously, we would be awesome for this show.
He's a little worried though as they just had a military dad/flighty daughter team and they weren't very exciting. And apparently had no idea how airports work. But I think we should downplay that aspect in our application and play up pilot dad more and the whole living together for a couple years thing and some of those funny stories. As well as our DisneyWorld obsession and visits. And we don't have a lot of drama, but I think we can play up some fun stories from when we lived together. Like how he kept trying to make sure I'd get to work on time. It felt as if I was 14 and dawdling on my way to school. So I finally started yelling, "I'm 25 years old. I have been getting myself to work, earning my pay and paying my bills for years now. I think I can continue to do so." Or something to that effect. And for years afterwards he would mess with me by just mumbling, "I'm 25 years old..." Or the fight we had the first time I stayed out all night when we were living together. How he felt I should call if I was going to do that and stuff. I think we can get on.
If we can just get that tape made...
Oh wait. What if they don't take spinsters?!?!?!
So, Dad and I want to be on The Amazing Race. Because we are awesome and we would kick ass. And frankly, the way this season is going, they need us. How can you go on a show called The Amazing Race and not have the ability to read a map? I don't understand that. Anyway, they're taking applications, but you have to get a video to them by August 11th. He's in Guam. I'm in New York. It's July 28th. We gotta figure something out. I'm going to try to persuade him to fly to New York for a day so that we can do a video. Seriously, we would be awesome for this show.
He's a little worried though as they just had a military dad/flighty daughter team and they weren't very exciting. And apparently had no idea how airports work. But I think we should downplay that aspect in our application and play up pilot dad more and the whole living together for a couple years thing and some of those funny stories. As well as our DisneyWorld obsession and visits. And we don't have a lot of drama, but I think we can play up some fun stories from when we lived together. Like how he kept trying to make sure I'd get to work on time. It felt as if I was 14 and dawdling on my way to school. So I finally started yelling, "I'm 25 years old. I have been getting myself to work, earning my pay and paying my bills for years now. I think I can continue to do so." Or something to that effect. And for years afterwards he would mess with me by just mumbling, "I'm 25 years old..." Or the fight we had the first time I stayed out all night when we were living together. How he felt I should call if I was going to do that and stuff. I think we can get on.
If we can just get that tape made...
Oh wait. What if they don't take spinsters?!?!?!
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
Not Possible
Turnip sent me a quiz to take. Apparently she is 23.66864% "geek". I ended up with 30.17751% - "Total Geek". I don't understand how it's possible for me to be even that geeky let alone to be geekier than her. So unfair. I think she must've lied on the quiz.
I Don’t Actually Hate LA (PART II)
Oh, as a little addition to Part I; Turnip was waitlisted at Wesleyan. Heh. No big deal. She wanted Brown anyway. It’s not like she isn’t a smartie. She is. It was just a thing that has nothing to do with anything really. But she and a bunch of her Brown friends were over at a Wesleyan friend of mine’s apartment hanging out with me. And for some reason it came up that all of them (except maybe Turnip’s boyfriend at the time?) had been waitlisted at Wesleyan - but all got into Brown. And they just looked at my friend and I as if they wanted to rumble or something. It was kinda funny. So she and I sorta mock fight about it from time to time. She taunts me about Brown being an Ivy League school while Wesleyan is not and I taunt her about being waitlisted at Wesleyan. We’re both intelligent and fairly secure people so this isn’t as mean as it might sound. Anyway, we were having this little debate in the booth at CSU Los Angeles on Saturday. And the board op asked us where we went to school. And we sheepishly told her. And she was all, ‘I don’t know what y’all are fighting about, those are both good schools.’ And we felt snooty and superior and silly. Which is not unusual for us. Just made me laugh. Sorry.
So, we left off with our heroines asleep in bed. The alarm got us up too early because we had to get pretty in time for 10:30AM brunch. And we were very pretty. In breasty outfits and everything. Boobs for brunch.
On Saturday’s walk to breakfast we started walking past this beautiful building. I asked Turnip what it was and she just started laughing. Then she told me it was the Scientology Celebrity Center in Hollywood. And indeed it was. Indeed. Later in the day she told me she thought they had brunches there. So we looked it up online and indeed they do. Sunday Brunch at the Manor Hotel. I guess The Renaissance Restaurant is a four star restaurant. We KNEW we had to go. A few people expressed interest but only GhettoBoy actually agreed to meet us that morning. Sadly he overslept. But we called him enough times to wake him up and convince him he was worth waiting for. So he came on by and we walked over to the Center.
The building really is beautiful. As are the grounds. Some helpful valets pointed us toward the brunch and we paid and were seated. We ordered juice and coffee but for some reason only GhettoBoy got coffee. Maybe it’s not ladylike in the world of Scientology to drink coffee? Luckily Turnip is forceful and got me my coffee. Then we attacked the buffet. The food was really good. I had decent waffles and cheese and fruit and petit fours and croissant and some different salads and a deviled egg and other such stuff. Sadly the mushroom crepes had chicken in them because they looked good. Ah well.
The area where we were seated was lovely. We were outside on the lawn with the entertainment gazebo. A trio was playing. The singer had effects on her mike and a pedal to work them - so sayeth my tech geek companions. The drummer and keyboardist were just goofy. And they were massacring some really good songs. But it was fun. It looked like there were several regulars who knew the trio and each other and the waiters and hosts and things. We were totally the outsiders. I was seated facing the building and kept spotting people in upper windows. I think Turnip and GhettoBoy doubted me though.
After brunch we headed inside to explore the building a little and to pop by the bookstore. I wanted to see if they had a postcard I could send Mom. I knew she’d be proud. GhettoBoy and Turnip were total chickens though. Silly. The scientologists seemed perfectly nice at that point. But then the trio started destroying Black Velvet and we all ran inside.
The bookstore was tiny and GhettoBoy and Turnip sorta hung out at the entrance. I did no such thing. A very nice man named John who worked there introduced himself and started chatting with me. They did not have postcards but they had lots of Hubbard’s non-fiction. He told me a little about the store and the building and said there were tours available. He also mentioned some enneagram machine they had that could read my thoughts if I wanted to try that. I told him that would be a bad idea and asked where I could get a tour. GhettoBoy and Turnip did NOT stab me at this point. So really, their future pain is now all on their heads and not mine.
John locked up the bookstore and took us to a little office area. A pretty blonde was sitting at a desk and John told us she would give us a tour of the building. They just needed to grab this guy who would watch the desk for her. In the meantime they had us fill out forms. I think my buddies gave fake names and addresses. I gave them my Mom’s. Because I’m a bitch. Just in case you hadn’t picked that up by now. It appears that we didn’t quite measure up in the office because the pretty blonde ended up staying with the desk while a very friendly, but obviously inexperienced (and maybe not so bright?) guy was made our guide. Poor guy. I can’t even remember his name. Bad me.
He took us back towards the bookstore area. And read us a quote in a frame on the wall which I think was, “A culture is only as great as its dreams and its dreams are dreamed by artists.” I’m not entirely certain though. It was something about culture being influenced by art/artists. Then he told us that artists influence all of our culture. For instance the clothes we wear. That’s determined not only by the designers and manufacturers who create the clothing we wear but the celebrities who decide to wear that clothing. Yup. What Paris Hilton wears affects the WORLD. Ahem. Then he asked if we were familiar with Star Trek: the Original Series. We all were. As are you. Of course. He started talking about communicators and tricorders and how they were folded and kept on belts and things and how NOW we have folding cell phones that clip onto our belts and things. ART influencing CULTURE. Turnip was almost losing it the whole time. GhettoBoy and I mastered the smiling and nodding at this point. Which was good.
Our tour guide then talked about how Scientology helps people. Like drug addicts. But mentioned that there wasn’t a way to help the perverts. I think Turnip looked at me at this point, but I’m sure there wasn’t any meaning to that. Right? Yes. Poor perverts. No room at the Scientology Inn.
Then he took us into the bookstore. He kept trying to tell us that Hubbard’s teachings were here but not… um, not the other stuff, the um… This went on for a while until I was able to supply the word FICTION for him. Hubbard’s FICTION was not for sale in the Center’s bookstore. We were off to a promising start. Then, he started to tell us a little about Dianetics. By lecturing to us from the cover of a Dianetics picture book. He didn’t even open the book. Just pointed at things on the cover while talking to us. The Cover. Of a PICTURE BOOK. Just wanted to make sure that was clear.
Now, it seemed like someone tried to explain to him about root words and their meanings but he didn’t quite get it all. If you look on the Celebrity Center site they mention the Greek words dia (through) and nous (soul) in reference to dianetics. We were informed that Dian was through and Etics (yes, etics) meant mind. So Dianetics meant through the mind. Yes, that’s what he told us. I’m trying hard now to not read the site because I don’t want the actual definitions to cloud my retelling of the story. So, after our word lesson he pointed to the drawings on the cover of the picture book. One was of a woman having a skiing accident. The next was the woman walking past a ski store, seeing skis and feeling pain in her elbow. I think the next was her using the enneagram machine. And then the last was her looking all happy. I’m not entirely sure what we were supposed to be getting from all of that. It really wasn’t made clear. As I said, it was like he’d been given the tour lecture a few times but didn’t really grasp it. I think he was trying to get at sense memory and all, but, I just don’t know.
Next we moved to the Scientology picture book cover. Now, according the website scio is Latin for ‘know’ and logos is Greek for “the word or outward form by which the inward thought is expressed and made known.” Yeah. Our guide told us that Scient was truth and Ology was study so Scientology is the study of truth or truth in study. Yeah. He seemed a bit confused over it all and didn’t dwell on scient - ology for very long. Scient. I don’t know. I can’t decide if Scient or Etics is my new favorite word. Maybe we should have a poll!
He then tried to put that personal touch on Scientology. Letting us (a group with very interesting religious theories and backgrounds) know that Scientology wouldn’t interfere with our religious backgrounds. He was raised Christian and that didn’t interfere with his becoming a Scientologist. And his mother-in-law’s family was ‘very into being Jewish’ (the hell?) and are also Scientologists. Next he started blathering about Buddhist Monks who came to visit and study at the center and bring back the ideas and philosophies to their temple. Seriously. I didn’t even know what to say. But that wrapped up our time in the bookstore. Our guide led us out into the hall. GhettoBoy and Turnip tried to hide in the bookstore. GhettoBoy claims he got trapped by John. I don’t believe him. They were hiding in there. But I just had our guide stop while I went back in and got their sorry asses.
So we walked back towards the office and stopped in the lobby area. Lots of fat old men were sleeping in chairs there. It gave it kind of a weird atmosphere. I was all excited at this point because he actually started talking about the pretty building itself. Yay! Once upon a time it was a resort hotel (according to our guide, according to the website it was a luxury hotel/apartment house). The Scientologists bought it and restored it in the 80’s or 90’s, our guide wasn’t clear, and currently use it for classes and weddings and the restaurant and all. I think guests can stay there, but he was very vague about that. He then started talking about movies that had filmed there like 48 Hours and Austin Powers. He kept having a hard time remembering Dr. Evil’s name. I don’t know why. It’s freakin’ Dr. Evil.
That was all very brief. Then he took us over to the elevator. We waited there for an elevator that came but was going down. Then it came but was too full. Then it came back and was again too full. Lots of scientologists with binders bustling around us getting off and on the elevators for class. Anyway, during this time he asked how much time we had to spend there. We said we only had a little while longer (mostly true) and couldn’t stay for the day or anything. GhettoBoy said he had to plan a camping trip with friends. It was the truth, but sounded kinda lame. Turnip and I figured he could’ve lied or joined in on our reason. More fun that way. She and I told him we had to catch a show later. He asked what show and we told him; a techno opera of Paradise Lost. We weren’t even lying. That is indeed where Turnip took me later. He said he thought he’d heard of that before. Well, yes. Paradise Lost is an epic poem of which most high school English students have heard, yes? Maybe? He asked who it was by and we said Milton. He looked at us quizzically and said “Milton Eskowitz?” I don’t know if it was exactly Eskowitz but it was a last name that started with an e and ended with a z and had some kind of hard sound like k in it. And I like Eskowitz. I could probably spell it better though. Not important. We all stared in stunned silence for a minute until someone mentioned that Milton was his last name. And being the brain trust we are it took us a minute to come up with his first name. I like to believe it was the shock that made us forget JOHN. Let’s go with that. Yeah. Finally GhettoBoy asked if there were stairs we could take. Since it didn’t look good for the elevator. He seemed flustered and said he wanted to show us the view of Hollywood from the roof (which sounded awesome) and some other thing. He wouldn’t tell us what this ‘other thing’ was. Seriously. Kept being vague about it. Intentionally vague this time and not just uncertain and unclear.
So, he gave up on the elevator and said he’d show us something else. We started down into the basement. As we approached the stairs our guide started talking about The Count of Monte Crisco. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant The Cask of Amontillado (not sure why), but either way, neither is what you want to be thinking of when a strange man starts taking you to the basement. I, of course, happily followed him down, all excited about my experiences in the Center. According to Turnip later, GhettoBoy sorta balked at the top of the stairs and had to be coaxed down. Hee. Can’t blame the man.
If you take the virtual tour and go into the basement (following a side door off the lobby), you can see what the basement halls look like with awful faux something or other. Faux stone and brick (yes, both) poking through the walls and things like that. I think you were supposed to feel like you were in some quaint European alley and not a basement. And I have no idea why. I think that’s why he was talking about The Count of Monte Crisco but I’m not entirely sure.
He then took us into this theatre in the basement. It was just a dinky little basement theatre. Tiny without much equipment. This is when I learned that I was with two snooty little theatre snobs. Heh. Our guide was all proud of the theatre and was talking about how they have lights and the lights are operated from the booth at the back of the audience. GhettoBoy totally gets bitch face on and says in the haughtiest manner possible, something along the lines of, “We’re familiar with the theater.” Heh. It was awesome. Turnip was looking smug until that point at which I really thought she was going to burst into hysterical laughter. (I’m very proud of you for not doing that, doll.)
Also, during the tour there was a lot of addressing others by name - attempting to give us the feeling that this was one big happy family. This was most obvious in the chatter with the folks who were sitting in the theatre waiting for a class to start. It probably wouldn’t have worked on us anyway, but it was especially bad after our guide tried introducing us to someone at the elevators. The first part of Turnip’s actual name is the same as GhettoBoy’s name, though with a different spelling. My name does not share the same letters or even sounds with either of their names. In our introduction to this fellow scientology family member our guide got GhettoBoy’s name right, gave Turnip’s name a different ending and somehow decided that I had the same name as GhettoBoy. Yeah. We felt loved.
Anyway, after the theatre our guide said he wanted to show us one more thing. Still in the basement. As we walked down the hall he started talking about acid flashbacks and how this place can help with those. I think GhettoBoy was thinking that he liked acid flashbacks and was wondering why you’d want to get rid of them. I may be wrong on that. Then our guide mentioned that the reason people get the DTs (though that’s not what he called them, he just kinda described them) wasn’t because people were craving drugs but because the drugs were still in their system. Just hanging out. Making people feel bad. He also said that was why people had acid flashbacks. The LSD was still hiding in their system. Yes. That’s what he said. Then he started listing drugs. He left off a bunch as GhettoBoy and I compared later. Like X. And Crystal Meth. For shame.
So, then he took us into the exercise room. It looked just like a small hotel exercise room. Some machines, some weights, some towels. Nothing exciting. Apparently anyone can use it. It’s only $5 a day for non-members. And something like $365 for a whole year. He then started talking about the program or process. I can’t remember which word he used, but they both make me happy so I often switch off when telling this tale.
You take a bunch of vitamins. I remember B3 being an important one. Then you come and work out and sweat a lot. Then we went across the hall to the sauna/steam room section. We stood in the main room near the door. And I don’t remember every detail of the lecture because a hot chick in a bikini kept coming in and out of the room. She was way more interesting than our guide. The guide didn’t seem to be checking her out though. Which was odd. But he did keep looking at what Turnip & my breasty shirts were showing. Kinda unnerving. Um, anyway. I’ll do my best to recall everything. Because I think this was really my favorite part. Oh, you can also see the sauna room on the virtual tour as well.
After exercise you take ‘some oils that the body really likes’. No, he did not specify what oils. Just that the body really liked them. And you take them. Then you go and sweat. And if you’re on the program you sweat 3-5 hours a day. And it gets bad stuff out. Like this one guy he knew about. When he was in high school he wrote “I Love Sally” on his chest in sunscreen and then went out and got a sunburn so that you could see the words on the not burned part of his chest. Well, he went through the process with a friend and while they were in the sauna his friend said, “Hey, I thought your wife’s name was Megan?” Apparently the ‘radiation’ was coming out of his body and you could see the words on his chest again. I’m guessing that was the non-‘radiated’ part of his body. Then the guide told us that he’d never done “street drugs” but has had extensive dental surgery. When he does the program his jaw area swells up.
Then he asked us if we were familiar with Ground Zero. I have to say that I really tensed up about this. Not something to get into now, but any mention of 9/11, WTC, Ground Zero, any of that, tends to make me a little sensitive. I’m still really raw about it even after all this time. And I think I was gearing up for a fight if he said anything to upset me. But this was all too dumb to get upset over. Still, I was really unsure of how this was all going to go. But yes, we told him we were ‘familiar’ with Ground Zero. He started talking about the folks who worked there and how they got lots of bad stuff inside of them. I guess breathing in debris from the destruction of two enormous towers isn’t good for you. Go figure. Anyway, they built a facility in New York or Jersey or something so the workers from Ground Zero could go through the process. One guy was going through it and sitting in the sauna with a towel over his shoulders. When he came out and took the towel off it was all purple. Then our guide asked us, “Do you know what rebar is?” I think we almost all lost it then. Yes, we were familiar with rebar. ‘Apparently that’s not good for the body.’ Yes, boys and girls, it’s not good to inhale STEEL. Just so you know. Also, when you do inhale it and then sweat it out, it apparently comes out in purple form. I just have no words. We spent the whole rest of the weekend asking each other if we knew what rebar was. Because it’s fucking funny.
Then he started telling us that once you’ve gone through the program you don’t ever need to do it again. I don’t think it’s what he was trying to say, but what came out was that basically even if you start taking drugs again you still don’t need to go back on the program, it’s just that good. Awesome. He did say that they recommend you kind of take care of yourself and don’t eat at McDonald’s all the time. GhettoBoy agreed that that was good advice for anyone.
At this point we begged to be freed and he walked us quickly outside and around the grounds (very pretty) to the parking lot. He mentioned that there was a free lecture coming up on bad things you shouldn’t put in your body like NutraSweet and the whole NutraSweet conspiracy and we should check it out. And then we fled. We almost made it to the sidewalk without cracking up. I had to ask GhettoBoy what he thought he’d sweat out. He thought it might be ‘black sludge’. Turnip had suggestions on what might be sweated out of me, but they were inappropriate and completely untrue.
I think this program is mentioned on the Scientology site as Narcon and has a bit of a different description than the one our guide gave us. But I like his version best.
It was so awesome I still cannot stand it. I recommend the brunch and tour to anyone living in or visiting LA. It’s an amazing time. With good food too.
I’m now tired and will do Part III later.
So, we left off with our heroines asleep in bed. The alarm got us up too early because we had to get pretty in time for 10:30AM brunch. And we were very pretty. In breasty outfits and everything. Boobs for brunch.
On Saturday’s walk to breakfast we started walking past this beautiful building. I asked Turnip what it was and she just started laughing. Then she told me it was the Scientology Celebrity Center in Hollywood. And indeed it was. Indeed. Later in the day she told me she thought they had brunches there. So we looked it up online and indeed they do. Sunday Brunch at the Manor Hotel. I guess The Renaissance Restaurant is a four star restaurant. We KNEW we had to go. A few people expressed interest but only GhettoBoy actually agreed to meet us that morning. Sadly he overslept. But we called him enough times to wake him up and convince him he was worth waiting for. So he came on by and we walked over to the Center.
The building really is beautiful. As are the grounds. Some helpful valets pointed us toward the brunch and we paid and were seated. We ordered juice and coffee but for some reason only GhettoBoy got coffee. Maybe it’s not ladylike in the world of Scientology to drink coffee? Luckily Turnip is forceful and got me my coffee. Then we attacked the buffet. The food was really good. I had decent waffles and cheese and fruit and petit fours and croissant and some different salads and a deviled egg and other such stuff. Sadly the mushroom crepes had chicken in them because they looked good. Ah well.
The area where we were seated was lovely. We were outside on the lawn with the entertainment gazebo. A trio was playing. The singer had effects on her mike and a pedal to work them - so sayeth my tech geek companions. The drummer and keyboardist were just goofy. And they were massacring some really good songs. But it was fun. It looked like there were several regulars who knew the trio and each other and the waiters and hosts and things. We were totally the outsiders. I was seated facing the building and kept spotting people in upper windows. I think Turnip and GhettoBoy doubted me though.
After brunch we headed inside to explore the building a little and to pop by the bookstore. I wanted to see if they had a postcard I could send Mom. I knew she’d be proud. GhettoBoy and Turnip were total chickens though. Silly. The scientologists seemed perfectly nice at that point. But then the trio started destroying Black Velvet and we all ran inside.
The bookstore was tiny and GhettoBoy and Turnip sorta hung out at the entrance. I did no such thing. A very nice man named John who worked there introduced himself and started chatting with me. They did not have postcards but they had lots of Hubbard’s non-fiction. He told me a little about the store and the building and said there were tours available. He also mentioned some enneagram machine they had that could read my thoughts if I wanted to try that. I told him that would be a bad idea and asked where I could get a tour. GhettoBoy and Turnip did NOT stab me at this point. So really, their future pain is now all on their heads and not mine.
John locked up the bookstore and took us to a little office area. A pretty blonde was sitting at a desk and John told us she would give us a tour of the building. They just needed to grab this guy who would watch the desk for her. In the meantime they had us fill out forms. I think my buddies gave fake names and addresses. I gave them my Mom’s. Because I’m a bitch. Just in case you hadn’t picked that up by now. It appears that we didn’t quite measure up in the office because the pretty blonde ended up staying with the desk while a very friendly, but obviously inexperienced (and maybe not so bright?) guy was made our guide. Poor guy. I can’t even remember his name. Bad me.
He took us back towards the bookstore area. And read us a quote in a frame on the wall which I think was, “A culture is only as great as its dreams and its dreams are dreamed by artists.” I’m not entirely certain though. It was something about culture being influenced by art/artists. Then he told us that artists influence all of our culture. For instance the clothes we wear. That’s determined not only by the designers and manufacturers who create the clothing we wear but the celebrities who decide to wear that clothing. Yup. What Paris Hilton wears affects the WORLD. Ahem. Then he asked if we were familiar with Star Trek: the Original Series. We all were. As are you. Of course. He started talking about communicators and tricorders and how they were folded and kept on belts and things and how NOW we have folding cell phones that clip onto our belts and things. ART influencing CULTURE. Turnip was almost losing it the whole time. GhettoBoy and I mastered the smiling and nodding at this point. Which was good.
Our tour guide then talked about how Scientology helps people. Like drug addicts. But mentioned that there wasn’t a way to help the perverts. I think Turnip looked at me at this point, but I’m sure there wasn’t any meaning to that. Right? Yes. Poor perverts. No room at the Scientology Inn.
Then he took us into the bookstore. He kept trying to tell us that Hubbard’s teachings were here but not… um, not the other stuff, the um… This went on for a while until I was able to supply the word FICTION for him. Hubbard’s FICTION was not for sale in the Center’s bookstore. We were off to a promising start. Then, he started to tell us a little about Dianetics. By lecturing to us from the cover of a Dianetics picture book. He didn’t even open the book. Just pointed at things on the cover while talking to us. The Cover. Of a PICTURE BOOK. Just wanted to make sure that was clear.
Now, it seemed like someone tried to explain to him about root words and their meanings but he didn’t quite get it all. If you look on the Celebrity Center site they mention the Greek words dia (through) and nous (soul) in reference to dianetics. We were informed that Dian was through and Etics (yes, etics) meant mind. So Dianetics meant through the mind. Yes, that’s what he told us. I’m trying hard now to not read the site because I don’t want the actual definitions to cloud my retelling of the story. So, after our word lesson he pointed to the drawings on the cover of the picture book. One was of a woman having a skiing accident. The next was the woman walking past a ski store, seeing skis and feeling pain in her elbow. I think the next was her using the enneagram machine. And then the last was her looking all happy. I’m not entirely sure what we were supposed to be getting from all of that. It really wasn’t made clear. As I said, it was like he’d been given the tour lecture a few times but didn’t really grasp it. I think he was trying to get at sense memory and all, but, I just don’t know.
Next we moved to the Scientology picture book cover. Now, according the website scio is Latin for ‘know’ and logos is Greek for “the word or outward form by which the inward thought is expressed and made known.” Yeah. Our guide told us that Scient was truth and Ology was study so Scientology is the study of truth or truth in study. Yeah. He seemed a bit confused over it all and didn’t dwell on scient - ology for very long. Scient. I don’t know. I can’t decide if Scient or Etics is my new favorite word. Maybe we should have a poll!
He then tried to put that personal touch on Scientology. Letting us (a group with very interesting religious theories and backgrounds) know that Scientology wouldn’t interfere with our religious backgrounds. He was raised Christian and that didn’t interfere with his becoming a Scientologist. And his mother-in-law’s family was ‘very into being Jewish’ (the hell?) and are also Scientologists. Next he started blathering about Buddhist Monks who came to visit and study at the center and bring back the ideas and philosophies to their temple. Seriously. I didn’t even know what to say. But that wrapped up our time in the bookstore. Our guide led us out into the hall. GhettoBoy and Turnip tried to hide in the bookstore. GhettoBoy claims he got trapped by John. I don’t believe him. They were hiding in there. But I just had our guide stop while I went back in and got their sorry asses.
So we walked back towards the office and stopped in the lobby area. Lots of fat old men were sleeping in chairs there. It gave it kind of a weird atmosphere. I was all excited at this point because he actually started talking about the pretty building itself. Yay! Once upon a time it was a resort hotel (according to our guide, according to the website it was a luxury hotel/apartment house). The Scientologists bought it and restored it in the 80’s or 90’s, our guide wasn’t clear, and currently use it for classes and weddings and the restaurant and all. I think guests can stay there, but he was very vague about that. He then started talking about movies that had filmed there like 48 Hours and Austin Powers. He kept having a hard time remembering Dr. Evil’s name. I don’t know why. It’s freakin’ Dr. Evil.
That was all very brief. Then he took us over to the elevator. We waited there for an elevator that came but was going down. Then it came but was too full. Then it came back and was again too full. Lots of scientologists with binders bustling around us getting off and on the elevators for class. Anyway, during this time he asked how much time we had to spend there. We said we only had a little while longer (mostly true) and couldn’t stay for the day or anything. GhettoBoy said he had to plan a camping trip with friends. It was the truth, but sounded kinda lame. Turnip and I figured he could’ve lied or joined in on our reason. More fun that way. She and I told him we had to catch a show later. He asked what show and we told him; a techno opera of Paradise Lost. We weren’t even lying. That is indeed where Turnip took me later. He said he thought he’d heard of that before. Well, yes. Paradise Lost is an epic poem of which most high school English students have heard, yes? Maybe? He asked who it was by and we said Milton. He looked at us quizzically and said “Milton Eskowitz?” I don’t know if it was exactly Eskowitz but it was a last name that started with an e and ended with a z and had some kind of hard sound like k in it. And I like Eskowitz. I could probably spell it better though. Not important. We all stared in stunned silence for a minute until someone mentioned that Milton was his last name. And being the brain trust we are it took us a minute to come up with his first name. I like to believe it was the shock that made us forget JOHN. Let’s go with that. Yeah. Finally GhettoBoy asked if there were stairs we could take. Since it didn’t look good for the elevator. He seemed flustered and said he wanted to show us the view of Hollywood from the roof (which sounded awesome) and some other thing. He wouldn’t tell us what this ‘other thing’ was. Seriously. Kept being vague about it. Intentionally vague this time and not just uncertain and unclear.
So, he gave up on the elevator and said he’d show us something else. We started down into the basement. As we approached the stairs our guide started talking about The Count of Monte Crisco. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant The Cask of Amontillado (not sure why), but either way, neither is what you want to be thinking of when a strange man starts taking you to the basement. I, of course, happily followed him down, all excited about my experiences in the Center. According to Turnip later, GhettoBoy sorta balked at the top of the stairs and had to be coaxed down. Hee. Can’t blame the man.
If you take the virtual tour and go into the basement (following a side door off the lobby), you can see what the basement halls look like with awful faux something or other. Faux stone and brick (yes, both) poking through the walls and things like that. I think you were supposed to feel like you were in some quaint European alley and not a basement. And I have no idea why. I think that’s why he was talking about The Count of Monte Crisco but I’m not entirely sure.
He then took us into this theatre in the basement. It was just a dinky little basement theatre. Tiny without much equipment. This is when I learned that I was with two snooty little theatre snobs. Heh. Our guide was all proud of the theatre and was talking about how they have lights and the lights are operated from the booth at the back of the audience. GhettoBoy totally gets bitch face on and says in the haughtiest manner possible, something along the lines of, “We’re familiar with the theater.” Heh. It was awesome. Turnip was looking smug until that point at which I really thought she was going to burst into hysterical laughter. (I’m very proud of you for not doing that, doll.)
Also, during the tour there was a lot of addressing others by name - attempting to give us the feeling that this was one big happy family. This was most obvious in the chatter with the folks who were sitting in the theatre waiting for a class to start. It probably wouldn’t have worked on us anyway, but it was especially bad after our guide tried introducing us to someone at the elevators. The first part of Turnip’s actual name is the same as GhettoBoy’s name, though with a different spelling. My name does not share the same letters or even sounds with either of their names. In our introduction to this fellow scientology family member our guide got GhettoBoy’s name right, gave Turnip’s name a different ending and somehow decided that I had the same name as GhettoBoy. Yeah. We felt loved.
Anyway, after the theatre our guide said he wanted to show us one more thing. Still in the basement. As we walked down the hall he started talking about acid flashbacks and how this place can help with those. I think GhettoBoy was thinking that he liked acid flashbacks and was wondering why you’d want to get rid of them. I may be wrong on that. Then our guide mentioned that the reason people get the DTs (though that’s not what he called them, he just kinda described them) wasn’t because people were craving drugs but because the drugs were still in their system. Just hanging out. Making people feel bad. He also said that was why people had acid flashbacks. The LSD was still hiding in their system. Yes. That’s what he said. Then he started listing drugs. He left off a bunch as GhettoBoy and I compared later. Like X. And Crystal Meth. For shame.
So, then he took us into the exercise room. It looked just like a small hotel exercise room. Some machines, some weights, some towels. Nothing exciting. Apparently anyone can use it. It’s only $5 a day for non-members. And something like $365 for a whole year. He then started talking about the program or process. I can’t remember which word he used, but they both make me happy so I often switch off when telling this tale.
You take a bunch of vitamins. I remember B3 being an important one. Then you come and work out and sweat a lot. Then we went across the hall to the sauna/steam room section. We stood in the main room near the door. And I don’t remember every detail of the lecture because a hot chick in a bikini kept coming in and out of the room. She was way more interesting than our guide. The guide didn’t seem to be checking her out though. Which was odd. But he did keep looking at what Turnip & my breasty shirts were showing. Kinda unnerving. Um, anyway. I’ll do my best to recall everything. Because I think this was really my favorite part. Oh, you can also see the sauna room on the virtual tour as well.
After exercise you take ‘some oils that the body really likes’. No, he did not specify what oils. Just that the body really liked them. And you take them. Then you go and sweat. And if you’re on the program you sweat 3-5 hours a day. And it gets bad stuff out. Like this one guy he knew about. When he was in high school he wrote “I Love Sally” on his chest in sunscreen and then went out and got a sunburn so that you could see the words on the not burned part of his chest. Well, he went through the process with a friend and while they were in the sauna his friend said, “Hey, I thought your wife’s name was Megan?” Apparently the ‘radiation’ was coming out of his body and you could see the words on his chest again. I’m guessing that was the non-‘radiated’ part of his body. Then the guide told us that he’d never done “street drugs” but has had extensive dental surgery. When he does the program his jaw area swells up.
Then he asked us if we were familiar with Ground Zero. I have to say that I really tensed up about this. Not something to get into now, but any mention of 9/11, WTC, Ground Zero, any of that, tends to make me a little sensitive. I’m still really raw about it even after all this time. And I think I was gearing up for a fight if he said anything to upset me. But this was all too dumb to get upset over. Still, I was really unsure of how this was all going to go. But yes, we told him we were ‘familiar’ with Ground Zero. He started talking about the folks who worked there and how they got lots of bad stuff inside of them. I guess breathing in debris from the destruction of two enormous towers isn’t good for you. Go figure. Anyway, they built a facility in New York or Jersey or something so the workers from Ground Zero could go through the process. One guy was going through it and sitting in the sauna with a towel over his shoulders. When he came out and took the towel off it was all purple. Then our guide asked us, “Do you know what rebar is?” I think we almost all lost it then. Yes, we were familiar with rebar. ‘Apparently that’s not good for the body.’ Yes, boys and girls, it’s not good to inhale STEEL. Just so you know. Also, when you do inhale it and then sweat it out, it apparently comes out in purple form. I just have no words. We spent the whole rest of the weekend asking each other if we knew what rebar was. Because it’s fucking funny.
Then he started telling us that once you’ve gone through the program you don’t ever need to do it again. I don’t think it’s what he was trying to say, but what came out was that basically even if you start taking drugs again you still don’t need to go back on the program, it’s just that good. Awesome. He did say that they recommend you kind of take care of yourself and don’t eat at McDonald’s all the time. GhettoBoy agreed that that was good advice for anyone.
At this point we begged to be freed and he walked us quickly outside and around the grounds (very pretty) to the parking lot. He mentioned that there was a free lecture coming up on bad things you shouldn’t put in your body like NutraSweet and the whole NutraSweet conspiracy and we should check it out. And then we fled. We almost made it to the sidewalk without cracking up. I had to ask GhettoBoy what he thought he’d sweat out. He thought it might be ‘black sludge’. Turnip had suggestions on what might be sweated out of me, but they were inappropriate and completely untrue.
I think this program is mentioned on the Scientology site as Narcon and has a bit of a different description than the one our guide gave us. But I like his version best.
It was so awesome I still cannot stand it. I recommend the brunch and tour to anyone living in or visiting LA. It’s an amazing time. With good food too.
I’m now tired and will do Part III later.
Monday, July 26, 2004
A biter
So, over the past few years my mother has been working on a kind of archiving project. I think it started a few years ago with old journals from great-grandparents and grandparents and such. She's just been typing in journals, scanning documents, scanning photographs and all kinds of things. I've been getting some fun CDs out of it with family photos. And for Christmas I got a CD of 1800 photos of Amanda. Heh. I have a sign up list for copies. But it might be a while. I'm lazy.
Lately she's found some old calendars that she used to use as daily journals of sorts. Which is where the toilet training thing came from earlier today. And tonight she told me a tale of when I was two. Apparently I was in a bit of an argument with a friend, got frustrated and bit her. So she pushed me in the pool. It seems I bit people a lot. I even had a spot. I liked biting on the forearm. I worry about me sometimes. I do.
Lately she's found some old calendars that she used to use as daily journals of sorts. Which is where the toilet training thing came from earlier today. And tonight she told me a tale of when I was two. Apparently I was in a bit of an argument with a friend, got frustrated and bit her. So she pushed me in the pool. It seems I bit people a lot. I even had a spot. I liked biting on the forearm. I worry about me sometimes. I do.
Muffalicious
Saw lots of Muffy this weekend.
(Yes, Turnip, I know you are waiting on Part II of the LA entry, but I'm so behind on weekend fun entries - LA, Boston, Lesbian Pagan Wedding - that I just can't get further behind. So I'm going to blab about weekends and regular things and just catch up on the big trip entries as best I can. Of course, you could write the rest of the LA blogs. Don't y'all want to see what Turnip has to say?)
I dragged her out to an IT work party Friday night. One of our floor support guys got a bit of a promotion (no additional money yet) and Friday was his last day. So drinks at Lincoln Park Grill. At first she tried to beg out of it because she didn't want to drink with Economists. I totally can't blame her, but these weren't Economist geeks, these were IT geeks. Totally different breed. But there are some similarities. We actually had fun. Well, I did. And she seemed to be having fun. She, Sheena and I were the only girls and only non-IT folks. Lots of testosterone going on and lots of butt grabbing and nipple tweaking for reasons I couldn't quite understand. None of our butts were grabbed or nipples tweaked though. And I even was wearing a breasty shirt and didn't get scoped by anyone other than Muffy. Which doesn't do me a whole lotta good.
Then this one annoying guy got more vocal and more annoying and we decided to bolt. He was going on about how it's gayer to take it than give it. So offensive and dumb. Muffy missed that while on a pre-subway potty break. And I apparently missed an offensive and dumb blow-job joke while on my own pre-subway potty break. Lovely eh?
So we trained home, got caught in a monsoon on the walk to my place and then ended up just scrapping the umbrellas and dancing in the rain on the way back to her place. And it was pretty awesome. Some strange guy on the street thought it was excellent and told us it was a date we'd always remember. We weren't sure if he thought we were on a date or if he meant it would just be a day we'd always remember. Anyway, we got home, dried off a little and changed a little just in time for Steph to come home from studying to have missed it all. Heh. He was tired and grumpy and eating dinner. He went off to study and sleep while we watched 9 to 5 and were in Heaven. Well, I was in heaven. Muffy kept wondering if Mr. Hart was going to get his in the end and all.
Saturday Muffy and I wandered around Red Hook going off for a lovely little walk. We explored the area down by the water where they're trying to fancy things up and had a good time. I also learned that not only does Muffy have a bit of a bridge fetish but she digs tunnels and toll plazas too. Interesting woman. It was nice. But exhausting. And yet necessary after the vodka and pizza and fries from the night before. Ugh.
Then it was showering and vegging in front of Celebrity Poker Showdown before adventuring out with Muffy and Steph to Crave, a place we haven't yet been to in the 'hood. Muffy got all pretty for us, which was sweet. I did not do the same because I'm a lazy bum. Dinner was good though they kept being out of things we really wanted like the corn soup and fried bananas for me and the eel flan for the duck breast for Steph. Alas. We skipped dessert there and headed to Sweet Melissa's for dessert items. Then off to their place for games. They tried to teach me this dice game a friend taught them. It's called Mexico and it's all about the lying. I didn't love it like they did. I think whiskey helps with the loving. So we played inappropriate Hello Kitty Uno instead. I won. Because I am awesome. Good times.
Sunday I was a slug. And I loved it. But tonight I must pay the price by coming home to an icky apartment.
(Yes, Turnip, I know you are waiting on Part II of the LA entry, but I'm so behind on weekend fun entries - LA, Boston, Lesbian Pagan Wedding - that I just can't get further behind. So I'm going to blab about weekends and regular things and just catch up on the big trip entries as best I can. Of course, you could write the rest of the LA blogs. Don't y'all want to see what Turnip has to say?)
I dragged her out to an IT work party Friday night. One of our floor support guys got a bit of a promotion (no additional money yet) and Friday was his last day. So drinks at Lincoln Park Grill. At first she tried to beg out of it because she didn't want to drink with Economists. I totally can't blame her, but these weren't Economist geeks, these were IT geeks. Totally different breed. But there are some similarities. We actually had fun. Well, I did. And she seemed to be having fun. She, Sheena and I were the only girls and only non-IT folks. Lots of testosterone going on and lots of butt grabbing and nipple tweaking for reasons I couldn't quite understand. None of our butts were grabbed or nipples tweaked though. And I even was wearing a breasty shirt and didn't get scoped by anyone other than Muffy. Which doesn't do me a whole lotta good.
Then this one annoying guy got more vocal and more annoying and we decided to bolt. He was going on about how it's gayer to take it than give it. So offensive and dumb. Muffy missed that while on a pre-subway potty break. And I apparently missed an offensive and dumb blow-job joke while on my own pre-subway potty break. Lovely eh?
So we trained home, got caught in a monsoon on the walk to my place and then ended up just scrapping the umbrellas and dancing in the rain on the way back to her place. And it was pretty awesome. Some strange guy on the street thought it was excellent and told us it was a date we'd always remember. We weren't sure if he thought we were on a date or if he meant it would just be a day we'd always remember. Anyway, we got home, dried off a little and changed a little just in time for Steph to come home from studying to have missed it all. Heh. He was tired and grumpy and eating dinner. He went off to study and sleep while we watched 9 to 5 and were in Heaven. Well, I was in heaven. Muffy kept wondering if Mr. Hart was going to get his in the end and all.
Saturday Muffy and I wandered around Red Hook going off for a lovely little walk. We explored the area down by the water where they're trying to fancy things up and had a good time. I also learned that not only does Muffy have a bit of a bridge fetish but she digs tunnels and toll plazas too. Interesting woman. It was nice. But exhausting. And yet necessary after the vodka and pizza and fries from the night before. Ugh.
Then it was showering and vegging in front of Celebrity Poker Showdown before adventuring out with Muffy and Steph to Crave, a place we haven't yet been to in the 'hood. Muffy got all pretty for us, which was sweet. I did not do the same because I'm a lazy bum. Dinner was good though they kept being out of things we really wanted like the corn soup and fried bananas for me and the eel flan for the duck breast for Steph. Alas. We skipped dessert there and headed to Sweet Melissa's for dessert items. Then off to their place for games. They tried to teach me this dice game a friend taught them. It's called Mexico and it's all about the lying. I didn't love it like they did. I think whiskey helps with the loving. So we played inappropriate Hello Kitty Uno instead. I won. Because I am awesome. Good times.
Sunday I was a slug. And I loved it. But tonight I must pay the price by coming home to an icky apartment.
Conversation with Mom
Mom: Did you know that you were potty trained on Feb 27, 1976?
Amanda: I did not know that.
Amanda: It just took me one day?
Mom: Yup. I used a book called Toilet Training in less than a day! And it worked. At 20 months. You are such an over-achiever!
Amanda: Uh-huh. Such a brainiac, that's me
Amanda: I did not know that.
Amanda: It just took me one day?
Mom: Yup. I used a book called Toilet Training in less than a day! And it worked. At 20 months. You are such an over-achiever!
Amanda: Uh-huh. Such a brainiac, that's me
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This weekend someone popped in here searching for 'chicas in thong'. Yes, thong and not thongs. Chicas in thong. The hell? I don't know. I just don't know.
Fucking Fuzzy Happy Bunny Flowers DAMMIT!!!!!!!!!
So, last night I stayed up until 2AM watching Center Stage for no real reason. Just because it's the second greatest movie of 2000. Then this morning I was listening to the soundtrack on my iPod on the way to work. And I was having a little Center Stage dance-off in my head. Seriously. Am I as weird as I think I am? I fear I might be. Is it okay to be this strange? I totally won the dance-off, by the way. And apparently I can now do cool back bend things in my own mind. And I was wearing a darling outfit. And weighed about 120 pounds less than I do outside of my mind. Heh. Now I'm listening to Disney Mania 1. Yes, yes I am. Bite me. Christina Aguilera is singing Reflection now. Just so you know.
Fun Quote from Turnip - "You are assuming there are straight male dancers. I think they are like the unicorn, a lovely fantasy."
Fucking Fuzzy Happy Bunny Flowers DAMMIT!!!!!!!!!
So, last night I stayed up until 2AM watching Center Stage for no real reason. Just because it's the second greatest movie of 2000. Then this morning I was listening to the soundtrack on my iPod on the way to work. And I was having a little Center Stage dance-off in my head. Seriously. Am I as weird as I think I am? I fear I might be. Is it okay to be this strange? I totally won the dance-off, by the way. And apparently I can now do cool back bend things in my own mind. And I was wearing a darling outfit. And weighed about 120 pounds less than I do outside of my mind. Heh. Now I'm listening to Disney Mania 1. Yes, yes I am. Bite me. Christina Aguilera is singing Reflection now. Just so you know.
Fun Quote from Turnip - "You are assuming there are straight male dancers. I think they are like the unicorn, a lovely fantasy."
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