How Royal!

After a few weeks in SA, I've returned to a mountain of mail (mostly junk) in France. Inadvertantly, I kept the best for last... I have just opened a royalties cheque from Canal+. A mini-series I had a tiny part in was re-broadcast, and without me even knowing about the re-broadcast let alone having to chase anything up, I just had my royalties sent to me. How cool!

This, ladies and gents, is what the writers in Hollywood are striking for. Their royalties, which studios are refusing them. Plus a reasonable cut of DVD sales (as in, more than 4c a DVD thankyouverymuchiWROTEthebloodyshow/movie/TVseries), that studios and producers are also refusing them. And that deal regarding new media and internet streaming that they're requesting. I'm with the writers all the way...although the WGA strike's timing has a huge impact on my planned trip to LA. So.... Hollywood reporting will be done from Europe for just a tad longer...

call 818 for a good time?

If you know anything at all about Los Angeles, you will have heard about The Valley.
It's a much abused place and the object of much Hollywoodian scorn. It is the valley that lies north of the canyon deviding it from Hollywood and West Hollywood. It is hotter than the rest of the city, being surrounded by canyons and mountains, more polluted - because the crap gets trapped by the mountains, cheaper to live in and has the phone code 818.

LA phone codes are an interesting phenomenon and can tell you a great deal. In South Africa or Europe (in my experience) the telephone codes on cell phones link them to certain service providers. 082 & 072 are generally voadacom, 083 and 073 are generally MTN. In France, all cellphones start with 06 and the following digit can indicate the provider. Although now that numbers are portable so you can change providers and take your number with you. What cell phone numbers do not ever indicate, however, is where you live. That is what makes cell phone in LA such a treat.

To name but the most pertinent, 310 is synonymous with snobbery and wealth: Beverly Hills, Brentwood etc. Eyebrow raising and slight head-cocking often feature prominently in the acceptance of an 310 number. (Subtext: "So you think you're fancy?!") 323 is considered very cool as it encompasses West Hollywood and Los Feliz,("Ooooh, you must be arty and hip") but 818 is The Valley. And given the Valley's status (or rather, total lack thereof) people with 818 numbers are often apologetic when handing out their number. Either they quickly explain that they may have an 818 number, but it's only because ...blah, blah, blah... or they get defensive and say: " I'm in a really cool part of the valley! And it's much warmer than Santa Monica". Hey, dude - stuff your complex back under your trucker hat - I wasn't asking about your domicile, I was only asking for your number.

On my first trip over, I had a New Jersey cell phone that my cousin had so kindly lent me. Boy... did I ever get shit for being on a 'Joisy' line! The next time I got a cell phone, I chose 310 to shut 'em all up... actually,that's not true. The guy at Cingular didn't have any more 323 numbers available and I was not going to go from being New-Jersey-confused, to The-Valley-abused... so I pretended to be posh instead.

Princess for a day

I have this part-time job as Barbie Princess. What the
hell is that, you ask? Well, I am an entertainer at
kids parties: sometimes I appear as Cinderella,
sometimes Belle and sometimes as chaperone to Lala or
another Teletubbie. I play party games and sing party
songs and do face painting on 3 year olds and get paid
very decently for it.

It took me only 3 seconds at my very first party to
realise that unless I faked an American accent with
the wee ones, I would not be understood... when on
earth would they have been exposed to a hybrid SA
accent? Like....NEver. So I have to say 'paRDi'
instead of party and "guud jaaaawb!" when they get
something right. I also have had to learn about Disney
characters because I called 'Snow White' Cinderella
many times, while handing out Snow White stickers to
kids and being dressed in a Cinderella costume. Gives
new meaning to the question: do you know who I am?? I
mean, do you? Cos I don't!

Well,a few Sundays ago it was an excessively hot
day here and I had a princess party in the Hollywood
Hills. They hadn't requested a particular princess,
so I went as Princess "Me". (no comments, please)
What a shambles... I was on my own for the first time
(usually we come in pairs) and it really isn't easy.
There is so much stuff to carry: a CD player, musical
instruments, a parachute, a puppet theatre, story
books - and all this, whilst parading around in a
long-sleeved princess dress and a tiara. I stepped on
my dress and almost fell on the kids - forget that
graceful entrance. Furthermore, as the party
progressed, I pulled one surprise after another out of
my party bag.

First, there was the sticker debacle: I had 16 little
girls around me and only 9 stickers to hand out. Oops!
I must say, the girls that didn't get stickers were
very decent about it - for 4 yr olds, they were
extremely understanding of the situation.

Next, the soap-bubble-blow-out. I had been given a
battery-operated device that one dips in the soap and
then it blows the bubbles out with a little fan. Well,
this was the first party I ever tried to use it and,
of course, I wasn't able to get any bubbles out of it
- instead, I blew liquid soap directly at the kids!
Only when one of them took it from me and was able to
shoot beautiful bubbles, did I realise what I had been
doing wrong. But it took a FOUR year old to help me
out. And the parents are watching all this...I also
spilled the full soap dish on a kid.

After that came the 'intsy-wincy spider' incident.
There is this blue felt glove that the kids put the
little felt characters on, as you're singing the
nursery rhyme with them. Well, I discovered during the
song that I was missing the rain (that washed the
spider away) and instead, I had a little old lady that
I didn't know what to do with. And, of course, my
sharp, bubble shooting girls also noticed..."what's
the little old lady for?" was an FAQ. And all I could
think of replying was :"I don't know - you tell me!"
Genius.

By far the worst surprise came when I pulled the face
paint out of the bag and there was just black melted
make-up everywhere. So, invariably, everyone got black
on their faces: rainbows with black streaks, pink and
black flowers, red and black hearts, black and black
butterflies... and my hands! The darling birthday girl
said: "Look at your HANDS!", to which my quick answer
was:" Yes, I'm a dirty princess, aren't I?" Luckily,
her daddy didn't hear me, or I'd have been making more
than a $20 tip! ;-)