The Andy Seven Inventory

It's every disgruntled worker's fantasy to walk off the job, but how many actually do it? Well, two months ago I did. I was so angry when I walked off I left my things on my desk, and you have to be seriously pissed off to do that. A month later I received two boxes of my things FedEx'ed to me with a packing slip some poor soul at work probably had to type out, so just so his/her efforts weren't in vain, I give you The Andy Seven Inventory:

1 Bottle TRIMSPA Dietary Supplement (approx. 20 pills)
1 Bottle Gaviscon Extra Strength Antacid (approx. 30 pills)
1 Bottle Armani Code (Cologne)
1 pr. Sunglasses in black case
1 Bottle Apple Pectin 500mg (approx. 90 pills)
1 pr. reading glasses in gold case
1 Bottle Aspirin 325mg 3 brown pills; not aspirin (How do they know? - Andy)
2 pack Zantac Maximum Strength (approx. 18 tablets)
1 cord Motorola phone charger
1 Hair Brush
1 Desk top 2011 Taschen Magic Calendar (Highly recommended! - Andy)
1 Bottle of B-12 Dot Vegetarian Formula
1 Halogen Lamp Bulb
1 pr. scissors
1 Cigar, Optimo Peach
Andrew Sevrin Nameplate
1 pack of LA County Sheriff's Dept. Breath Mints
2 Elle Decor Magazines (11/2010 & 12/2010)
1 Toy Coffin (Retail Slut painted on it) (The only good thing I got from that store - Andy)
5 Plastic Las Vegas Coasters (Black & Red)
1 Box of Kleenex (Did they count the tissues, too?- Andy)
1 Cake of Memorex CD-R's
1 Mouse Pad Artistic Painting (Dali's "Persistence of Memory" - How ironic! - Andy)
1 Set of Small Earphones for to digital audio (SIC) (Hello, they're called earbuds - Andy)
3 Packets Starbucks Iced Tea (SIC - it was coffee) Instant Drink Mix
2001 Thomas Guide Los Angeles and Orange County
1 Bottle Fantastik Cleaner
1 Staples Stapler
2 Boxes of Samoas Girl Scout Cookies
1 Envelope with 2009 Birthday and Holiday cards
1 Frame with Certificate from Department of Children and Family Services (DCFS) - Outstanding Support Staff : Director's Employee Recognition Award - August 2005
1 Certificate of Appreciation - Los Angeles County Registrar - Recorder/County Clerk's Office
1 Vintage Can of Schlitz Beer used to hold pens/pencils
1 Ceramic Frog Figurine with 7 quarters, 6 nickels, 3 pennies, 1 dime
Salt & Pepper shakers (1 each)
1 Halogen Desk Lamp
1 Best Buy gift card ($25 value)
1 Starbucks gift card ($15 value)
1 Maggiano's gift card ($25 value) (I wonder if it's good at the bar? - Andy)
1 small tin TRIMSPA with 3 red tablets
1 small tin with thumb tacks
1 Tide-To-Go Spot Remover pen
4 boxes of matches
3 Cigarette Lighters
2 Cologne Samples (POLO and HUGO BOSS)
1 tin with pennies ($0.67)
1 coin from Costa Rica (50 colones)

Well, there you have it: an inventory list that summarizes what makes me tick. A lot of pills, smokes and sexy cologne to seal it all up. And I'm back doing what I do best, making cool clothes. Goodnight, everybody!

Sur La Plage (red COFFEE Chapter 7)

Every once in a while I get called to play the tall, blonde vamp in a comedy short when they need an icy, harsh blonde. Today was one of those awful spring days on the beach where the sun comes out for a few minutes, decides it hates being out, and crawls back in behind the clouds. The climate alternated wildly between sweltering warmth and an annoying chill. Because of the transitory nature of the sunlight the director was tearing his hair out and screaming at everybody all day.

We were shooting a comedy short starring Pip Collins, a fading silent comedy star whose gimmick was looking and acting like an oversized baby that just fell out of bed. He wasn't terribly funny, but as long as he had smoking babes in his movies there was a guaranteed load of hard-up guys ready to put their money down to see his next unlaughable flop.

In this masterpiece Pip was in a Gay 90's bathing suit onesie cutting up around the beach, Santa Monica, and trying to impress all the girls including the snobby vamp, me. I was dressed in a very small bathing suit and freezing my sardine can off.

Pip did this annoying thing where he would stutter and stammer while he fluttered his eyelashes like a mentally deranged baby boy. "H-hey, Leticia, want to see me dive off the c-c-c-c-cliff?" he stammered. I didn't have any lines; all I had to do was roll me eyes and act stuck up. What I really wanted to do was punch him in the head.
"Chucky, you bad boy!" Martha, a doe-eyed brunette with sweaty peach fuzz over her lip, was supposed to run over and grab Stupid by the earlobe. She missed her cue. "CUT! CUT!" the director yelled, "God damn it! You dumb bitch, you're supposed to run over from the right, the blonde stands to the left".
Pip grinned real big. "I'd like the blonde to stand on my jimmy, you bet!"
The creeps in the crew laughed. "Pip, you're a stitch!"
"We just lost the light".
"Cast break!"
I walked away. "Aw, stuck up like your character, huh, babe?" whined Pip.

I grabbed my handbag and pulled out my cigarette case and lighter. I walked towards the sunken dunes with tall grass growing around them for some privacy. As I walked further away from the set I felt something on my head, gripping me gently like little needles. It was a blackbird that landed on my head. I shook my hair and it flapped its wings and hopped off right in front of me. "What gives, buster?" The bird just looked up at me with a puzzled look on its face. Everybody's a comedian, only the birds are funnier than Pip Collins.

I walked a little further and saw a couple lying on the sand behind a bush. As I got closer I realized it was two men locked in embrace glancing at me with a sliver of annoyance. Carry on, boys. I must have been yards away from the set far away from everyone and lit up, taking a few much needed drags.
"Young lady, are you smoking tobacco cigarettes?" I turned around to see an old woman in her Eighties sitting in a rocking chair in the sand staring at me.
"Yes, ma'am".
"Could you trouble an old woman a cigarette?" She had a Southern accent.
I smiled, "Here you go", I handed a Lucky Strike to her and even lit her up. "I'm Lois".
"Thank you very kindly. I'm Charlotte. Forgot mine today, seems like I'm forgetting more things every day. Well, dang".

I stood and she sat, both quietly smoking among the tall weeds and sand, the booming waves crashing in the distance. I looked at her as she stared off, then she looked at me while I looked down, until she said, "What brings you to the beach on such an inclement day like today?"
"We're filming a comedy short", I spoke, smoke filtering out my nostrils.
"I haven't been to a picture show in ages".
"You're not missing anything. They're still awful".
"How long have you been out here in Los Angeles, if I may ask?"
"I'm a native. One of the few".
"Ah, well, you need to go out and see the world, young lady. Paris, Berlin, Florence, the Tower of London, even the streets of New Orleans, what's left of them", she picked tobacco off her lips.
"Are you from New Orleans?"
"No, child, I'm from Georgia. I had a happy and quiet life there when I was about sixteen, we had money, we had a the biggest, most beautiful house, Daddy had a gin mill, livestock, and then the Union Army came right in and destroyed it all. My Daddy stood his ground and they shot him in the head. Even our Negroes cried when he died in Mother's arms. We had to escape from the Army or they would have put us in a camp. They were so busy burning and destroying our land they didn't see the Negroes riding away with us hidden in the wagon".
"I'm sorry you lost everything that young".
"Let me tell you, between you and me. There are Southern folks still mad at Yankees and want a taste of good old Christian revenge. An eye for an eye, like the Bible says".
"How?"
"I can see some good ol' boys coming around acting all neighborly to the Yanks and then when they least expect it, they'll get even. It will happen".

We got real quiet and once again just stared at each other to the sounds of the ocean waves hissing and crashing.
"Do you know what I remember seeing as we were riding away? The scarecrows by the corn fields on fire, looking like burning Dixie soldiers". I felt a sudden chill at this remark.
"Well, you don't have to worry about anything burning around here".
"No. I suppose not".

A black woman in a nurse's uniform came by and got all over Charlotte's business. "Miss Charlotte, you know you're not supposed to be out here in the cold like this. You're going to catch your death of cold. And you've been smoking! I can't keep my eyes off you for a second!"
She turned around to face me. "She's here every day, ma'am. You can see her tomorrow. It's right about time for her daily elixir". Charlotte scowled.
"Well, toodle-oo, young lady", she waved weakly.
"So long. Welcome to L. A."

I trudged over to the movie set and progressively heard more voices yelling at each other. Pip Collins was chasing a few bathing suit beauties around the set. He saw me walking towards the klieg lights.
"Heyyyy! There's my girlie!" he yelled, grabbing his tiny winkie.
He ran towards me, fast enough so I could pick him up by the hips and toss him into the klieg lights, toppling two of them over, narrowly missing the director.

"YOU BITCH! YOU CUNT!! YOU'RE FIRED!!! DON'T EVER BRING YOUR SNAPPER ON SET AGAIN! YOU'RE FINISHED IN HOLLYWOOD!"

Two days later my phone rang every two hours so I left it off the hook. Later that day I got a telegram from Pip Collins begging me to come back on set. I used it to light my stove. The name of the game is burning things. Charlotte said so.

Detective Braintree (red COFFEE Chapter 6)

When the cops heard I fought off some dirty creeps and an executive banker was found dead where the cab picked me up, well, I got a phone call from them PDQ. It was from my friend Lt. Lou Sparta of the Hollywood precinct of the Los Angeles Police Department.
“You have the option of either coming back down here to tell me what happened or I can send on my detective to your place”, he barked.
“I’ll meet you half way. I’ll talk to your detective at Musso & Franks over a Bloody Mary. After last night I need some Dutch courage”.
“Alright, but he can’t drink on duty so no funny business, you copy?”
We agreed to meet for noon lunchtime. Funny business, that’s so funny I forgot to laugh.

After an hour of applying makeup over my bruises from the night before I painfully walked down Hollywood Boulevard to Musso & Frank’s Grill. Daniel, the Maitre’ D smiled when I entered. “Good afternoon, Miss Angelus, in for lunch today, yes? Your date is already here. I seated him myself a few minutes ago”.
I looked around. A tall man with auburn hair and a few visible scratches across his right cheek lit up at the sight of me and waved me over. Uh, oh.
“Is that him?” I frowned at Daniel. “Mister Scratchy?”
“I believe so. He showed me his badge. Bloody Mary, the way you like it?”
“Please!”
“Extra Tabasco Bloody Mary, on the double”.

Mister Scratchy stood up from his chair and pulled mine over for me.
“Good afternoon, Miss Angelus, I’m Detective Braintree”, he shook my hand with a strong grip. “They make a swell medium rare sirloin here!”
“Well, go on with your meal, I’m expecting my drink any time now”.
Detective Braintree took his tucked napkin off his neck and pulled out a pad and pen. “Nuh-uh, steak can wait. Business before pleasure”.

Before I could blink my eyes my Bloody Mary silently drifted down by my side and the waiter quickly left. I set aside the jumbo olive and took a big sip from the Bloody Mary. Spicy, the way I like it.
“You’ve got some mighty big claw marks on your face, Detective Braintree”.
Braintree smiled and pointed at the red and brown scratch marks on his cheek.
“Oh, these? Wouldn’t you know it, I got a crazy idea that it was time to give my cat a flea bath. We did the old back and forth and this time the cat won. I demand a rematch!”
“What’s your cat’s name?”
“Punchy. Yeah, go ahead and laugh, lady. I tried to give a cat called Punchy a bath”.
“I’m sorry, I guess I need a laugh right now. Well, it serves you right, kid”.
“I axed for it”, he laughed along. Before I finished my BM my waiter raced up and asked if Madame would like another drink. Yeah, now more than ever.

“Let’s get down to brass tacks, Miss Angelus –“
“-Lois”.
“Lieutenant Sparta assigned me to investigate the deaths of Darby Wells and Miles Beecham. You stated you met Officer Wells the night he died and a cabbie named Percy Flint told us you attempted to stop an attack on Mr. Beecham”.
“That’s right”. I killed the first drink in anticipation of the next one. “I heard Mr. Beecham was an executive at Crocker National Bank”.
“And how! He was Vice President of the bank and worked late to finish some fiscal deadlines. Now, normally when he calls his wife to tell her he’s working late he’s actually goofin’ around, but this time, well-“
“I didn’t know him, but his wife was a regular customer at Bullock’s where I modeled”. Braintree jotted this down as if it was important information.

He glanced down at his notes, “I paid a few visits to The Screen Test bar, funny. The bartender’s pretty new, he says he started two days after Wells was murdered. The guy that served you, name’s Burton, took a powder, the address they had for him was some flop on Union Street. When I got there they said Burton cut out awhile back”.
Waiters and bar staff glided around tables, serving people who looked happy and relaxed. I wish I was happy and relaxed.
“Lt. Sparta also reported you couldn’t identify the two men in the bar that harassed Officer Wells. Are their faces any clearer to you since then?”
“No”, I banged my glass on the table a little too hard, “but there’s this…”

I told Braintree about the scarecrow who pulled off his mask after I attacked him and how he had a thin, emaciated, whiskered face. I also told him the names of the scarecrows: “Buff, Fergus, Shep, and there was a fourth guy, I didn’t get his name”.
“Now we’re getting somewhere! What else can you tell me about them?”
“They had Southern accents. Not only did they look like farmers but they had definite country voices”.
“Did you get a look at these other mugs?”
“No, but I stuck a hatpin through Fergus’ face so he’ll have a large hole through his nose to remember me by”.
“Good, good”, he chuckled, jotting this down. I started my second drink. He looked around and then leaned over, speaking quietly. “Say, Lois, you want to know a great way to relax and defend yourself at the same time?”

*******************************

“This is grand, Teddy!” I yelled, drunk and smiling.
“Shhhh, quiet, Lois, if we caught I’ll get in a load of trouble”. We were in the Police Department indoor shooting range. “Okay, now this is easier than you think, you just need to aim straight at the target”.

Teddy planted himself behind me, his torso leaning against my backside, his arms around me, his hands holding mine holding the pistol. I squeezed off a few shots. They weren’t good ones but I think I hit my target anyway.
“You’re doing great, Lois”, he said in my ear, his soft face touching mine. He felt good, his body radiating warmth all over me, like the feeling you haven’t felt in a long time. The gun, the drinks and Detective Braintree colored the afternoon.

The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys

Blame it on glam rock, blame it on the glitter scene, yeah, I accuse David Bowie, the New York Dolls, T.Rex and all the other glittery suspects for making me love the platform shoe fetish. Nigh on forty years later I still feel the need for high-heeled wheels. The first time around I had an awesome pair of metallic bronze shoes with gold-tinted metal 3" heels and matching soles. Unfortunately at the time I was still a growing teenager and the shoes caused temporary damage to my spine, i.e. one leg grew longer than the other, so my doctor prescribed orthopedic shoes I had to wear in between forays to Rodneys English Disco, the Riot House and the SM Civic Auditorium (home to Queen, Sparks, The Sweet, etc.).

Even though it was a sign of the times if you fast-forward to the Nineties grunge days I still gravitated towards boots with a healthy 2" Cuban heel. It wasn't out of some short man's neurosis; I stand one inch less than 6 feet tall. And speaking of tall guys in taller heels:
No one appreciated that more than Lux Interior who wore transvestite heels every night on stage (and probably off-stage too). For all we know he's probably buried in a pair of high heels. I certainly hope so - I want the same burial wish!

Just what is it that makes platform shoes so special? Well, for a start: 1. I like the leverage to the carriage when you walk in high heels.
2. High heels also improve your posture as you're beholden to standing up straight and erect when you walk, otherwise you'll probably fall flat on your face.
3. You can't beat the killer silhouette you'll cast when you wear platform shoes, your body lifted up on a leather-bound pedestal. Watch the shadows cast by these elevated shoes, i.e. the Brett Smiley cover pictured above. It's simply a damn great look!

Now that my spine worked out its curve and my legs are of equal length I can comfortably wear high heels at my leisure. The styles are still there thanks to shoemakers like Demonia, Fluevog, Aldo, Rad Hourani and J.P. Gaultier's even getting into the act. It won't be long before we hear the low spark of high-heeled boys again.

Freakbeat April Fools Day

When is a good song just a little bit over-exposed? When its called "Hold On", danceable and groovy but simply not worthy of so much extensive coverage, so in the spirit of April Fool's Day, I give you..."Hold On".



Rupert's People aka Les Fleur De Lys
The first band to interpret this freakbeat masterpiece, so masterfully done it needed to be released under two band names, Rupert's People and Les Fleur De Lys. Both band names are pretty forgettable.


Impsissimus
Impsissimus decided to do a quasi-Deep Purple reading to this rugged, manly classic, perfect for belt-whipping groupies and assorted biker wenches. Garrr!


Jason Crest
Jason Crest's career hit rock bottom with their "Black Mass" ode to Satan and other sinister agents of darkness. Here they are covering this freakbeat classic.


Sharon Tandy
And the winner, of course, is Sharon Tandy, crooning in a sublime Dusty Springfield breathiness that adds a much needed sexiness to the song.

So how about it, cutting edge kids of garage rock, its time for you hip commandos to whip up your cover of "Hold On". There aren't enough versions of this magnificent song!