27.2.08
So my friend Natalie called me this morning with a question about Fuente. Naturally, the conversation progressed from "Do you think I'll need a tarp for under my tent?" to discussing power tools. She had mentioned that she had finally placed an order for a new awesome camera and that she "totally girled out" and the camera was pink. I replied with that I wanted to paint my new drill pink with Hello Kitty on it. She said that borrowing shit like drills was a pain in the ass. She said, "Every girl needs a good drill."
Double entendre aside, that is a pretty sage observation. Yes, every girl DOES need a good drill. I believe every girl should learn to change a tire, use a drill/jigsaw/belt sander, and most importantly, remove intruding spiders from the bathroom. It's good to master skills that are usually reserved for "men." It creates a source of pride and independence. A mysterious confidence, like Rosie the Riveter or Katie from "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn." Or Roo, from the Mutaytor (she even has her own toolbelt, rowr rowr!)
I, on the other hand, have no idea how to change a tire (helllooooo that's what Triple A is for....), use power tools (I tried once, in vain, to put up some shelves at an ex girlfriend's place and she ended up having to go out and buy a bunch of plaster mold to fix all the holes...) and I squeal in terror if a hulking, nefarious spider decides to lurk in my bathroom. I can, however, take a mineral mud bath like a mother fucker and am REALLY good at getting pedicures.
On an unrelated note, for those of you with Tribe accounts, this came crashing into my inbox yesterday: http://tribes.tribe.net/rabid_fans_of_porter_tinsley
If you love me, you won't join this tribe. However, if you REALLY love me, you will. It is, afterall, for Rabid Fans. And no, I did not create this tribe. You have 40 Foot Jesus to thank for that.
13.2.08
That's SUPREME COMMANDER TINSLEY to you.12.2.08
The weirdest stuff happens to you when you live in Los Angeles. Even the most remote social environment (like the underground) is so oddly woven into the fabric of the entertainment industry for no other reason than simple proximity.So it seems that often the average person who, like me, has no desire to be involved in the entertainment industry in any way and does not seek it out like so many young Havasu-born girl starlets in line at Hyde (who won't get in but will spend all night trying) will find themselves in the weirdest social situations.
For example, for Labor Day a few years ago I found myself at Pink's house for her birthday party while I was on a date with an American Idol. Coincidentally that's the same party that Clea Duvall thought I was hitting on her girlfriend and gave me dirty looks all day. (I wasn't hitting on her, I just liked her hair.) Which leads to ANOTHER weird situation in that I was sort of seeing a relative of Elliot Smith's, who explained to me, graciously, that it was none other than indy rock's "Radio Sloan" that I had been complimenting on her astro-pop hair color and she happened to be Clea's girlfriend. Now, at the time I had little to no idea who Elliot Smith was OR Radio Sloan OR Clea Duvall other than the fact that she was the girl in Girl Interrupted. Ignorance may be bliss, until you compliment someone's hair. Sheesh!
Another time I found myself surrounded by amazing models and television stars in Cabo San Lucas for a long weekend of DJing (admittedly pretty awesome.) From there stemmed a friendship with a Top Model, who was recognized everywhere we went, which was usually a place to get as hammered as possible. Then there was the time I got Margaret Cho to "marry" 100 gay couples at the Abbey for the Sundance Channel, and that Esquire Magazine Oscar party where I was assaulted by the Queer Eye people for wearing bad socks (in front of the paparazzi pit...and the hot Reuters photographer girl, doh!) Not to mention the porn premiere party I produced for a client's brother's porn company at the Egyptian Theater where I hired all my friends to be the entertainment, security, bartenders, etc. Talk about surreal.... This is all just by simply living in Los Angeles. I don't seek these situations out.
However, this all leads me to the weirdest thing to happen to me yet. When I was 24 years old and just out of college, I was living in Orange County. I had rabbit ears on my television so I only got like, six channels. One of the channels was CBS and there was this little show called Survivor. It was season two, and reality TV had yet to be a breakout phenomenon. There was this female contestant on the show, Jerri, who had INCREDIBLE hair and dancing, smiling eyes. I was instantly hooked and wanted to touch her hair. Or pull it, if you know what I mean.
ANYway, needless to say, that season of Survivor was the first and last season of reality television I ever watched. She was kinda a bitch though, so I was sad yet happy when she got kicked off. Fast forward 18 months and I'm at Club Red hanging out with the Mutaytor. There's this girl on stage. Same hair. I slunk over to Crunchie and said "Who's the hawt new girl???" Crunchie said, "That's Jerriiiiiiii....hands off Porter, she's taken."
Holy crap, the girl I was in love with from Survivor was in the band I had started doing a ton of shows with! I had done a few shows with the band by the time I actually ever talked to Jerri but it didn't take too long for us to find that we had much in common and become good friends, I was around the band so much in 04/05 it was next to impossible not to have interaction with all fifty thousand of them in the band. She was the first female breakout star of reality television (before it was a dime a dozen) so it's not often that we go out and she's NOT recognized by someone. The airport, Vons, you name it. She even did Playboy back when reality stars were hot and doing Playboy - but that was four years ago or so.
Since then Jerri's been an integral part of my life in Los Angeles - we've spent some awesome quality time together and I love her like a sister (okay, like a second cousin by marriage, if you catch my drift.) She still has great hair and she's an awesome chef and she's saved me from the depths of a broken heart on more than one occasion.
So, imagine MY surprise when earlier today my girlfriend comes home with a fistful of the "girly" cigarette lighters - you know, the lighters with pictures of hotties on them for sale at like, Arco gas stations? - and who's on the lighter? Jerri. The pics are the Playboy pics from years ago and she has no idea who made them (I had to call her the second I saw them.) So now, my friend Jerri goes everywhere with me. She's totally on my desk, in my car and in my pocket. Literally. I was just thinking that I haven't spent enough time with her lately but now we're as close as you can be considering she's in my pants (pocket.) She can get my friends stoned at parties. She can wave in the air to Freebird. She literally helps me see in the dark now.
And even after all the weird entertainment industry situations I've had since I've lived here, knowing the girl on the girly lighter is probably a close second if not a tie to playing ping pong with Pink against her then-boyfriend-now-husband Corey whatshisface while Linda Perry and Billy Idol guarded the keg and did the wave to cheer on the girl ping pong team.
Me AND my Jerri lighter will be at Lucent L'Amour on my birthday, February 16th. Details and ticket links over on the event page.
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