Tom Grane's House and Family

I'm really sorry I've been slow on furnishing these blog posts. I have been so busy and loaded down with activities and even on the trip took too long describing things. I will get all of them eventually, just keep looking on here. 

Alright, let's go back in time. This age is the 20th century, and we're going to the years my mom was in high school, 1981, the days when...well actually that a pretty conservative year. They wore khakis and shirts, not unlike what we wear today. Not very weird or exciting. But anyway, Tom Grane asked my mother out to go to the dance, probably by her locker, a scraped metal lock contraption with a combination on it. She probably blushed and then said yes, smiling a lot. I can just picture the scene now. Scraped metal compartments, smiling gals, and then...the Nascar Atl. Pace car! It was a shiny, beautiful, loud machine, generating exhaust more than a thousand factories. This green Ford Mustang excited and jaw dropped my mother, as they zoomed away to the dance, making people stare and gape at this wonderful mode of transportation. Imagine that! Going to the dance in a Nascar vehicle. They must of been the couple of the night. Parking, they came in, and danced, as was accustomed to being done at a dance. It was a great night. 

Then, Tom Grane moved to California, became a 

Alright, let's travel back to the 21st century, 2012. March. The 17th, St. Patrick's Day. This feels like James Bond subtitles. Does it to you? 

After years of not speaking, they contacted each other on FaceBook, talking of the reunion that Mom was not able to make because she was on the trip. Mom called him to tell him that we were in town, Hollywood, and then, Tom Grane, Pace Car owner extraordinaire, invited us to his house. WE WERE GOING TO A DIRECTOR'S HOUSE!!

You couldn't imagine my excitement. This guy had worked on movies, and wasn't just a special effects guy like the people we had met earlier...no, this man was a real director, in the field, and he had worked and talked with Steven Spielberg! As we drove all the way to the town of Sherman Oaks, in the jeep, all my video camera equipment around me(I guess I was gonna video tape some of it, but that video camera didn't work on any editing thing so I got a new one and all the video taping I did was for nothing.) I got ready to read more of my Ireland book. I wanted to finish it today, because it was St. Patrick's day, one of the biggest of the Irish holidays. I read the climax, and about the kid traveling around and all, and the stories he heard from different people around in the countryside, still chasing that old man. I was almost to the end of this very thick and intriguing, descriptive book. After a while, however, I came to observe the scenery around us. 

It was nothing like you would suppose a director's town to be...forest filled, wet, and relating to a rainforest. It was hilly, with many canyons and drops, gravel roads, and filled with one suburban tract after numerous gas stations and restaurants on the way. But don't get me wrong, the town was nice, when we rounded the corner and approached their house, all the other nice big houses on the street, and their large driveway, shut off garage, and garden with a stone strewn path up to a large grey house, plastered rock and a grand oak door, many windows in the stately house, two levels, like many houses that we have in Georgia. 

We parked on the street, the side of the jeep facing the house, and thereafter strolled up to the front door. I had only taken my Movie Speak book and a biography of King Vidor, just some old film books and then my video camera in a satchel/bag type thing. I wouldn't read these in front of the company, but I'd show them to Tom Grane, who I was sure when the day was over would become my new hero. He was a director from GA, me in the future, and he had been very successful! 

We rang the doorbell on the rainy day, and then it was answered by a blonde haired pretty woman, Tom Grane's wife. She smiled, and was very kind towards us, as another women left the front room. The house had a staircase in the middle of the entrance area going up, with a pretty chandelier and then a balcony going to the carpeted floors bedrooms. It was a massive block and under a little hallway to the rest of the house. Expensive paintings lined the walls, and to our right was a sitting room, piano, coffee table, and old wooden furniture, including nice plush leather couches. The window was enlightening and broad, and a black haired lady came and dropped off her daughter, thereafter leaving. Tom Grane came to meet us, and Mom and him hugged, saying the usual, "Oh you look great" "Wow haven't you changed bit" I was introduced and Mom mentioned that I liked acting and movie- making. He was very nice, mentioned his connections, as we sat down in the back room, filled with plush couches and by a fireplace and large flat screen TV. Opposite us to the right was a sparkly kitchen counter, with smooth pretty granite and a lot of nice cabinets. Then there were the open French doors with their white pane square separations. A shaggy large hairy dog immerged from there, led by Grane's wife as they left the grassy area. 

Dad talked with him about the economy, politics, as two girls game down from the long staircase. Grane had called for them, and Tom told them to introduce themselves. There was an 11 year old named Ella, who had brown hair and was rather tan, and Sophie who was a lot younger, littler hear but not blonde or redhead. An interesting carmel color. They said hello, like any other awkward feeling children when people they didn't know were invading their home. I've had the feeling many times before, where kids come over and they're not really my friends. However I have gotten over that by now and usually welcome friends and foe, as I met new kids almost every day in the R.V. But, they were cordial and smiled, and Rebecca went off with Ella, who aspired to become an actress, and had to go to a dance thing later today.Rebecca and Ella were rather nice towards each other. They saw her room as the younger kid hung out with her friend, who the dark haired lady had already dropped off. The house was teeming with life. 

As I waited to interject on the conversations of Tom(I had called him Mr. Grane and he now said I could call him Tom), Mom, Dad, or his wife, I walked around a bit, going to the restroom in a nice painted blue room, with a glorious gold sink and several other wonderful appliances. These people didn't need a large house to live in style. I saw some paintings in the hallway under the staircase, and several of them included naked ladies, of which I turned away in disgust the moment I saw them. However, it has been a long practiced expression of art and nobody in the household seemed to notice. Perhaps it was only a big deal to only me. 

There were posters on the walls, encased by frame, of some French movies that had action and girls and all that. One bust of Caesar was on a little stand. I went back to sit down to the blush couches, as Tom was finishing up telling Mom about the iTV. All this time the flat screen plasma was alive and teeming with pictures of Halloween, and of Sophie meeting Hannah Montana or Demi Lovato. And of Tom on a Hollywood backlot, with a bugle, talking to a number of famous people, just walking along. HOW LUCKY THEY ARE!! To grow up in this melting pot of famous people, to have so many connections, and to be able to say at school,"Yeah my daddy worked on Avatar last Easter."  or when they went to their grandparent's house and when the gold old folk asked what they had been doing recently, they could say, "Well, we went to Universal Studios over the weekend and had to sit in my Dad's office and watch a film being made. Sigh." They would consider what I would be fanatical about only an everyday occurrence. I wonder if they know how lucky they are! But, I wouldn't trade anything to go on this one year trip around the nation. 

But anyway, he told her how to get it and that all she had to do was connect a slideshow to a special software and it would run all day. It was connected to a desktop upstairs by many wires going through the halls. Sitting down, Grane's wife asked me about The Hunger Games, a book series, and then I gave my honest opinion about it as she nodded, getting a little afraid of my flustered spirit. 

I started out calm. "I honestly think that it is a really gutless, evil, really disgusting and gory book series, filled with romantic love scenes and a broken, dismal world as the location. There's no happiness at the end and" here came the flustered, "why did everyone have to die? I mean, this book is a TERRIBLE representation of American AND WORLD LITERATURE! Suzanne Collins is an evil atheist witch and it puzzles me why all of my friends enjoy this jarring and stupid book!" The conversation was thereafter dropped. 

I then asked Tom Grane where he had gone to college and how he had gotten into the business, after sharing some movie terms with him with my little MovieSpeak book. He told me, 

"Well, I went to USC, and then I became an intern for some people, using my resume and going into the film and directing classes. That got me more connections, and I just kept building myself up, rising higher with more connections and more people knowing me. If you play it right, stay with the right people, sign on to the right movies, then you can be a director like me. I then started my company, Mob Scene. Our logo is a fish with the Mob Scene in red on it." 

Tom Grane was now an inspiration to me. I will become him, and I will follow his advice, I will, I really will. Go to a highstanding college, then get an internship somewhere. He really inspired me. By and by in the conversation Steven Spielberg was brought up, and then I asked Tom if he had met him as his wife got all the different fruit plates in pallets that they had gotten(a delivery person had arrived earlier) along with fried chicken and a lot more great food. They were very hospitable and it was very kind of them to feed us. Tom said that he hadn't just met him, he had worked with him on several movies and Spielberg knew him and wasn't one of the millions who happened to meet him in their lifetime. That's so awesome!!!

Well, I went upstairs after a while and saw that the hallways were decorated with Incredibles, and Indiana Jones! Harrison Ford had signed the poster that was in the master bedroom! How lucky were they! To wake up and look at that each morn, to see that he had actually signed it...wow. Even their bathroom, littered with tooth brushes and nail polish, had a small movie poster of The Little Mermaid. The two little girls were sitting in their room, not paying attention to us. I talked with Rebecca and Ella in a nice room with a big bed and a window, her room. She was drawing with Puck. I asked what video we could make after we all decided we wanted to do that. Finally it came down to gameshow, and we eventually got the little girls to join in this. In the play room, with cabinets and barbies and toys abound, they made a sitting area with the couch as Rebecca was the host and Ella and I the two contestants. Sophie and her friend would throw things at us when we got the question wrong. Rather barbaric. I went to the jeep, got my camera and tri-pod, Grane asking what was up as I went upstairs, talking to them before I proceeded up. I videotaped a bit of Rebecca talking, and then Rebecca videotaped us answering the questions. My tripod was off balance, and there were too many cabinets and toys in the small room, with me stepping and tripping over them galore, but it was fun for a while before Ella had to leave to go to dance practice and the Mom came in and told she had to go get ready. We had lost a contestant, so shooting therefore ceased.

But it was time to eat lunch anyway. We feasted on the great scrumptious food of the Grane's, numerous fruits and sweet tasting flavors, all in an assortment of richness and color. Juicy chicken breasts, brown as bears and cooked as an old woman's skin, dominated the counter top island. Together with fat red beautiful strawberries and green silky lettuce and bread, we ate with a zeal and love for the tasty ingredients. Soon after we ate and digested, we soon saw it was time to leave. The mom had to leave to take Ella somewhere and the friend had left, so we got all the tripod movie stuff, and I collected my books. I then reluctantly said goodbye to Tom Grane. He was a very nice guy, and had given me many tips in camera work and directing, more than I can say or count. He led me in the way of my future career. We thanked him for helping us out and inviting us over, after we said goodbye to Ella, Sophie, and his wife. Those three were very nice. Shaking Tom's hand, we dispersed and left in our jeep. For the rest of the day I tried to finish the book as we went and drove to all these different places. It was very late when we had gotten home and didn't not allow for playing time with the kids of the R.V. As the night fall came we found something odd. 

Our two bikes on one side we're moved to the other, in the middle of our R.V. and another one, with a small granite area. This was most puzzeling, why he had moved that. He said it was his space in the letter. Made us sigh, and a little ticked, but we were too tired. You're probably reading quickly to see if I will tell you what the letter said. Alright, fine, I guess I will. 

Your bikes were up against your motorhome in my area. I moved them back. 

-Your neighbor.

Very frank, to the point, without any mean comments, but a little curt if you ask me. Too tired and worn out by riding around at different places, we retired for the night without making any fuss. This was the most claustrophobic park ever, and we had hated manuevering with the bikes there, trying to avoid the slid out slides of the R.V. and all the other stuff. Oh well. 

That was a great day. We got to go to a real director's house, meet his actress-aspiring children and Beverly Hills wife, and eat in company while admiring the movie posters and talking to his wife about The Hunger Games. It was an interesting day that ended in a bike mystery, and a creepy note that shook us in our sleep. The Tom Grane day. 

Nos vemos para ahora. 

"Yeah Steven, it's me. I was wondering if you could get me a coffee on the way to the studio. Thanks, dude." 

I wish I was that close to Mr. Spielberg. -----

Andrew. 

Cleaning Day; Dinner with Meg

Prepare for a pretty boring blog post. Alright, here's the game plan, we cleaned, and got ready for the arrival at our motorhome of one of Mom's childhood friends, Meg, whom she spent some time with in coming back to Glendora in her teenage years, after she had spent time in Georgia. After that we went out to dinner with Meg. It wasn't the most exciting thing, like the TMZ tour, but you know what we all need some down days, especially on an R.V. trip. (back here in Roswell almost every day is a down day). I was excited to meet Meg, whom I though was Mom's cousin at the time but was later told that they were friends and the cousin named Meg lived somewhere else. So confusing!!!

The morning was a little CNN, and sadly I stretched and then was told to let the air out and squish it in so Meg could sleep. I prolonged it by reading a little of my Ireland book, a book I was determined to finish by St. Patrick's Day, which was the following day. It was the 16th, and there's no special occasion for that day. You could call it an un-birthday, also. (Every person has 364 un-birthdays, and why don't we celebrate them too!) On this day Mom took out the dogs much against my will as I wanted to do it for her, and Rebecca made a fuss about having to push in her futon as her barbies might be hurt in the process. Ah, her large barbie plaza or complex, full of shoeboxes and numerous cabinets... she has so much more room than me and it is simply not fair sometimes... as we took papers places and threw trash away, dusted on our dirty tile floor and Mom made me put the clothes into the white bag in the back, Rebecca and I bickered and argued, about each other's space, respect, food, and television, or just argued about some strange subject. Oh, we angered each other a lot and were probably worse than Cain and Abel. But, here in Roswell, we barely ever fight, as there is a lot of room and several bedrooms between us to share. It is certainly enough. But, on the R.V., there was 45 ft and maybe a small R.V. park. But, as she was my only child companionship sometimes besides the kids at the RV parks, we had to play outside and also ride bikes around. However, we didn't do much at Anaheim that day besides cleaning.

Do I have to go into detail about the process of moving computers, putting them into cases, taking stuff off counters and stuffing everything in the back so that it looks like the R.V. has a lot of room, setting up chairs and all that cleaning and rearranging jazz? Because I'd rather not. In a few days we'll be doing some very exciting things.

The evening rolled around and it was tense as we waited for Meg to appear. Finally, in a black sedan parked across the street, we saw through the large wide R.V. front window the girl we had all been waiting for. She had blondish curly hair, more ginger, and also was large and not too tall. Dressed in a dress ish with a little sweater, she emerged as we all came out to meet her. Nothing she said or did was done in great exclamation, which I thought was odd. It was clear she was very shrewd as she hugged us and made witty comments the entire night. I like people who can say a funny line, you know. They talked for a long time outside by the car, and as Dad came we prepared to depart to go to a restaurant. We would probably end up going back to Downtown Disney, that shop/eat area from a few blogs back. Meg drove, and Mom sat in the back with us, as Rebecca bothered me in the middle. Dad was in the passenger seat. We then took off.

We drove all the way to Downtown Disney, in a parking lot and several areas belonging to hotels, trying to find our way in the dark night. The car zoomed rather fast, exhaust piling invisibly in the air, then moving on in the process of diffusion. She went up to a gate guard as we closed in to Downtown Disney, demanding a valet parking session. She didn't sound flustered, but tried to get her message across in slow words, and saying things like, "Ok, Joe, will you do me a favor? We want valet....what? I'm sorry? Ok....valet....valet?" He was on the phone with someone and she had to repeat herself. He then told her to go across the street and into another lane. He thanked her.... I mean she thanked him.... sorry, and then after that we went across the street to where those buildings were and that little ticket booth and those boats in the water and a man was waiting for us as we departed and he took our little cruiser and parked it. We then sauntered in the moonlight over to the paved area in Downtown Disney, past the sign, looking at the ESPN Zone. Did we want to go there for our long awaited dinner?

I think Mom and Dad wanted of something that was different, not the same old jazz, besides, it was crowded tremendously and all the T.V.'s and arcade games were bursting with activity. To the left was a restaurant with Spanish style architecture and wonderful brickwork, further on as we went into the paved walking area with numerous booths and shops, past the Rainforest Cafe. This establishment was named "Joe's Cantina" and was a Mexican restaurant. We had wanted to go here after we had done a full day of DisneyLand, but being too entirely tired, we carried on and went back to the RV, not even eating dinner. So we wanted to try it out again.

Unluckily however there proved to be quite a long line for this restaurant also, people sitting on ledges and in the long line to the podium where they put down their spot. We went all the way up there in the crisp and cold March air, my hands like the bloody hands of a pirate, red as the dirty scoundrels themselves. Well, Meg told us some funny stories, tending to be rather serious at points but still smiling and being nice. Mom and her talked of their old past and all the funny things that happened, also referring to a few old faces and what they were doing presently.

"How about your brother?" Mom asked.

"Same old same old...he's been really successful." She told us that she had gone to the first inauguration of President Obama and really wished he would be elected once more. In the wake of the present election we now know that her wish has been achieved. Sigh.

But it was interesting to learn she had been there, and it sure must of been a great honor to be part of his campaign and see this great event. She's a really big supporter and it probably was momentous to be in the historic moment of America's first black president. Wow. But anyway, we finally got in after her showing us pictures of her dog and the girls talking in one group and Dad and I in another. Finally we drifted in to the awesome restaurant, balconies around us, Spanish heritage surrounding us with the ivy going all around and the sandstone walls. On the ceiling.... well, scratch that.... there was no ceiling. It was crazy! Open air.... I mean seriously. We looked up at the smeared totally black sky, no stars in sight because we were in the city. Not like in North Dakota. You see stars as much as you can't see people. Haha.

That made it cool and breezy in there, which I enjoyed. Dad and I went to the restroom to the direct right of the entrance as they sat at a six seater table towards the bar.

 We got some of those hard chips in the basket in the middle of our table, and the Meg with purse settled as the waiter came to get our drinks. The witty Meg answered in such a fashion that was to inspire me to be funny towards the breed of hospitality servants. I now will be familiar and kind to any waitress or waiter I see. And I get that uneasy awkwardness filtering away and the funny familiar sense appearing from the Good Old Meg.

As Dad nibbled on cheesy nachos and Rebecca on soft tortillas later in the night after ordering drinks, (Rebecca and I had water, Mom had a margarita, as did Meg. Dad was a miller light man) Meg told us that as a school administrator she was going to be selecting a new curriculum called Common Core, that we had never heard of before. But Meg told us that a whole 38 states were already developing this new curriculum. Georgia was soon to be one of them. The deal about this common core thing was that they would have the same standards, I suppose, and so with this they would really be able to see what state had the highest literacy rate, or the smartest school. So this way it wasn’t Kansas learning one thing and Ohio another, you know. Rather interesting, I suppose, but very soon I got bored with this grownup talk and tried to change the subject to movies, Cali, steering away from the subject of politics and immigration and other serious conflicts.

I looked around, at moving Latino waiters as they placed plates upon the tables of the people they served, or at the white twinkles in the sky, barely seen by the overwhelming amount of fog in the Los Angeles sky. I people watched, seeing the reactions and different things like that of numerous people, and how they acted and reacted. But then I got bored and focused my ears once more upon the conversation.

 We talked of Eric, the piano man we had met in DisneyLand who was related to Meg, and after eating our very nice enchilada verdes and talked some more in the dim environment of the shifting people, the cool breeze and all the drinks and foods, we gave the bill and left.

Back in her car we quickly retreated all the way back to the RV. We sat on the couches in some silence…as our eyelids drooped in the hazy hot air, the dirt on the tile floor rubbing against my socks as my eyelids dropped and dropped, my head lowering lazily, more politic discussions moving around with immigration, democr… republi…. YAWN! My eyes were out first as the voices blurred and blurred, becoming rather dismal, and then, vanished. I was still conscious, still  thinking, but then stopped thinking, feeling, smelling, and started sleeping.

So that was the end of that day. I never got to say goodbye to Meg. Maybe it’s better like that. For, we‘ll probably see each other again someday… I don’t know. Well, Meg was very nice, smart, witty, and a good talker. I can see why Mom was her friend back in her childhood. They barely keep in touch, however, and their ideals and views aren’t the same, but hey, who cares! Meg was a very nice person and maybe in California when I become a movie person I’ll see ‘er again.

Speaking of movie people… the next blog post will be full of them. Actors, directors, show moms… all closer than ever before. And we’ll go to the house of one…read the next blog post to find out how, who, where, and why!

Do you want some nut with that Meg?,

Andrew.

TMZ Tour

(This blog post and some after is in the font of Courier because it takes place in Hollywood and Cali, and Courier is used by all of the directors and screenwriters in their movies.) 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MRS. CHERYL!!! YOU'RE SUCH A REALLY WONDERFUL MUSICIAN,LEADER, AND MENTOR! HOPE YOU ENJOY THE DAY!!! I DON'T KNOW WHAT WE COULD DO WITHOUT YOU AT CHURCH!!!

The paparazzi. They are the dirt of the world, the narrow minded imbeciles who feed on the shortcoming s of others, who love to get a juicy story of one of the world's most famous, and thereafter make them viewed as evil and ill in the respect, and even though normal day people do these things and it does not make the news, the paparazzi has to present them as terrible and inhumane, to ruin their privacy and to take pictures of them. They can be unjust and cruel, but, it is there occupation, and someone must do it, and so we must picture them as regular day people, as we treat doctors who love it when people are sick, therapists who enjoy the work of seeing people with problems. Someone must do the job, and their source of income comes from that, just like funeral directors need for there to be dead people. They don't love it, but they do need it.

I probably shouldn't have viewed them in such a respect, but oh well.

One of the big departments of these picture takers who contract their photos and their information, is called TMZ. It means Thirty Mile Zone, a thirty mile area that they cover, which is Hollywood, where most of the celebrities live, and so there is a lot of juicy info in there. I would not find out this until later.

The scene: the RV, dirty and packed with books, sheets of paper, and an over multitude of junk and random stuff. Dad clicks on his Toshiba computer, the wide black slick machine focusing in on the website of TMZ. The day: March 15th, the Ides of March. On this day thousands of years ago Julius Caesar was killed by his fellow people, as earlier he was portrayed in a bad light and over thirty of the people in the senate stabbed him with daggers, over 30 times. It is funny we went to TMZ on this day... because they attack people with words and pictures, and there phrases and juicy secrets are like daggers.

I knew of what it was, how they talked about everybody's bad points, and I also knew of the Television show they had on prime time, TMZ. But, it was rated TV 14, so I had never really gotten the advantage to see it. If it was that rating, then the tour would probably  be rather inappropriate, and that I would not enjoy, as I am not one to take pride in any of that imbecile nonsense and scoundrel joy. I tried to signal and tell Mom and Dad that we should best not take the tour, but alas, they were not familiar with the show and signed us on. Again, we drove to Hollywood Blvd., back to where stars are made and where they do things, and then to the Whole Foods with the tokens for the bathroom.(See previous post for more information on yesterday's adventure.) We went into the parking garage, went up through the entrance, and in no time were again in front of the Mans Theatre, with handprints and street pretenders wanting tips for taking pictures all around us. There was a small ticket booth close to the red and gold theatre, on the right side. We appropriated some tickets and waited until a bald guy with tattoos yelled out "NEED YOUR TICKETS FOR THE TMZ TOUR!!" and then we handed them to him. He handed the studs back to us as we strode and rambled over to the side parking lot behind the block of buildings, where we had gone the day before for the Hollywood Tour, which is another story. We then took sight of it. 

A slick, bulky, large bus shone in the hot Cali sun. It's black painted exterior with TMZ in large bold red letters, along with many swirls and a few famous people's pictures, was something of a spectacle. I could barely see through the black shaded windows, where inside is private(imagine the irony) but when your inside you can see all that is around you. This one had a large roof, and it was so much better, not all ripped up and open air like yesterday's. Oh, it was a beauty. There were two of these so vehicles, and one man, the one who had done the tickets, went in one with some other people. We were lucky not to have that gruff man. There was no sign of our current tour guide. We were sheltered inside and Mom and Dad sat behind the driver, with black all around us. Rebecca and I sat together, with me with the window seat.(very luckily, for I had the video camera and would enjoy this tour more than Rebecca would perhaps.)

Everything in the room was black. The leather seats, the windows, the posts that were by the outside seats, the back, ceiling, walls, everything was black. There was a blackboard and a large dashboard, and the blackboard was behind the driver, who had a black seat with a black uniform. He was Latino. Then, our tour guide finally came in. Dressed in a black collared shirt and black long pants, the young black haired woman was...another example for black. She had a blotched, acne filled face, but still was rather pretty, small, and had brown eyes. She spoke with a small mike and held on to the post as she boomed out, and I could see she was going to be a good actress. 

"Hello everybody, how are you all doing today?" --"Good" and some clapping from audience--"That was poor, but we'll work on that. ---cheers and better goods!, second time around-- "My name's Nasareen, and I'll be your tour guide for today. Welcome to the TMZ Tour. We're really glad your here today. This is your driver, Jose. He's gonna bring us through some fairly treacherous area, so you better be appreciative. TMZ is a show on some channels...you've probably heard of it, but in this tour I really hope that we'll see some stars, as we're the paparazzi. Now, sometimes we're given a bad rap, but all we try to do is get the truthful story out there about some of them stars. Who do you all want to see today?" 

"Lisney Lolan!" 
"Taylor Swift!" 
"Tom Sellec!" 
"Harrison Ford!"(This is me) We all raised our hands in saying this, and Nasareen made an interested face that I, a young person, knew such an old actor. She said perhaps we might even see them 

"So, where are you all from?" Some people were from Canada, a young couple, and another high schooler had just graduated, there with his older parents, but they didn't talk much as much as Rebecca and I would later on. Nasareen learned we were from Georgia, and of course like tons of other people across the nation she had said we were a long way from home. I told her about the trip in reply, and she said that was pretty awesome. Over the course of the ride Nasareen and I would have several witty conversations, her and I whipping each other with funny comments. 

"How old are you?" 
"I'm 12, and my sister Rebecca here is 10." She then asked us of our names. There was another twelve year old, and when it came time for her name to be known Nasareen looked at me and said, "Andrew... hmmmhmmmm... Yeah, Katie and you..." I blushed as red as a fire truck.

We then went upon the road, and Nasareen stayed standing, holding on to that pole. I just then realized and looked upon a television a little above Rebecca and I, and another right above Mom and Dad. It was huge and flat, and then after a little while of looking at the Mans and her talking about how Clint Eastwood didn't want a star and the whole business of getting one, a bald skinny guy, the star of the show TMZ, went up and talked about how it was going to be a cool tour, and not to video tape him talking, also to stay in seats, and all the other boring rules which must come out sometime in the early section of a tour. We then left the Kodak theatre area and went into the more club, shopping area of Hollywood. This TMZ tour was very professional, not as historical, and I wondered if it wouldn't be too bad as I had first thought it would of been. But then came Strike one. 

It was when we had just learned about a big skyscraper club, and the great TV's were once filled up with images as we looked at the great building by a small drop into another area, surrounded by billboards, restaurants, and liquor stores in addition to boutiques, which we would see later on. This was the Hollywood and Los Angeles of the movies, the ones everyone talked about. On the TV they talked about the club where you needed a contract and there was a huge waiting list, also a large bit of money you needed to also have. There were some pictures of the rooms, the large oak tables and desks, all the lush wonderful couches and sofas and the great views out the crystal windows, in addition to wonderful silks and a score of other cool things. We then started up again, leaving the building.

One of the many cool things about this tour was that it stopped and we got to see those videos, unlike the other tour yesterday where we sped along quickly and I could barely even hear him talking. It was great to see the awesome videos. But then we got across the street, to some bars, and a couple of restaurants with a thing called the Funny Club, where Steve Martin and some others had gone to make some laughs.We stopped in a chicken restaurant, with a big kitchen, and stopped as we watched one more video. It was like McDonald style, not really a nice or big restaurant. We watched a video, with several of the people from the show at their location with their desks and pens and cubicles, and the people on the show talked about how Brad Pitt had once worked there at this restaurant, as Nasareen sat down and said a comment before being quiet, as she would do many times in the tour. There was a picture of Pitt, as we saw in the movie, of him in a huge chicken costume. Everybody laughed that the future famous personality was once a teenager working part time... in a chicken suit. It wasn't exactly right to laugh at him as I have been a feathery friend too... I was the rooster, with the red gloves on a white hat... in E!I!E!I!Oops! So I have nothing on him. 

This wasn't the first strike however. I bet your wanting to know what that was. Nasareen had already told us that we should look out the windows to see if there was a star, and then she  would go out with her camera(it was attached to a black overlapping plastic thing that went over her chest and stomach, and allowed her to run with having it secure, also it could move around a lot, something that the professionals used. A Mexican man to our right in a car pointed to somebody, and then some people in the back of our bus said that it was Peyton somebody... but I don't know which Peyton. I forget so much though... Anyway so yeah... Nasareen got out of the car, opened up the door, and had her camera ready as she tried to snap a picture of him, but alas, his little Sudan car sped away at the last second. It was pretty action packed, and we were literally on the edge of our seats to see what happened, but she came back in and said it was a no go. It was really bold to go out there in the middle of all that cars and traffic, and was really the paparazzi in action. Pretty crazy.

That was strike one for the reason in which she tried to get in somebody's business. Nasareen was nice and very complementary of us when it came down to it, but still... I mean why do you have to get in that person's business. After a while the stars are probably flattered, but then they think it gets old. 

Nasareen and I played on each other for the rest of the tour, and she'd be like "I bet Andrew knows" and I'd say a witty line back at her. It was a fun and interesting friendship, and I got a lot of spotlight time. She would smile and we'd laugh at the things, and I think she was glad I wasn't one of those kids that was uncreative and wouldn't reply to something witty. She told us of a story as we went along of how in the last tour somebody said they saw Fabio and a lady said to drive on until they saw a real star. Nasareen showed her kindness when she felt bad for Fabio; as they drove off she could see his hair waving and a confused look upon his countenance... that brought a whole lot of laughs. It still makes me chuckle to this day. 

Strike Two, the more dire strike, was still on it's way, as we went upon some other crummy looking businesses, black walls and a few scrapped paint, some other things, and a lot of liquor stores in addition. Nasareen, smiled, pointed, and told Rebecca and I to close our eyes as she talked about the playboy mansion... as she said. I won't go into details. As I closed my eyes and covered my ears I heard the muffled sounds of "stripper" and names and also "prostitute" and several other ungodly words. That is really terrible. And to think they'd show it on this tour that kids were on. Nasareen later told us she knew we were mature but wanted to keep it kid friendly as she could, but if that's all she could do... TMZ couldn't be too kid friendly. Sigh.  I do not have to go into details about this part of the day, do I? 

Moving on. 

Nasareen... hmmm... such an odd name when you think about it... I've never ever heard that name before that day... huh. Such an interesting name. The black haired girl from TMZ. Nasareen. 

Sorry I need to get back to the blog. 

So, I asked that question about what TMZ meant, and she said in the tour it would be answered. I still had it racking in my brain. It was hard, but I managed to avoid the screen(we weren't allowed to film that because of copyright reasons) as I filmed outside. We went to several of the stars' hangouts, Tim Burton and Johnny Depp's cafe, where Britney Spears went bald(the people from the show in their funny tour video talked about that thorougly as we looked at the salon where it was done... rather interesting) and where Clint Eastwood played golf, but didn't manage to see anyone besides that Peyton guy that I didn't even know... my parents didn't either. Which was a bit of a disappointment. 

Then, we rounded the corner and entered Beverly Hills again, where the stars lived, not played and worked. We rounded a bend where a nice grove of trees and plenty of grass was, and saw a small building that we came onto after passing numerous boutiques where it was thousands of dollars to buy a shirt, because of the rich materials that everything was made of. Very amazing. Nasareen passed this fancy gold place without any trouble, and talked about a few stories of how no paparazzi were allowed in, which was surprising for her. But back to this building. It said Beverly Hills Police Department, or BHPD, and had some blue lettering on the sign. It was small, of a plastered stone material, and of only one floor. Nasareen, as she hung to the pole as we stopped and swashed about, told us that many a star had served time and misdemeanors for drunk driving to infidelity and other things. Britney Spears actually rammed her car, while under the influence, into the police department! That's really funny, 'cause by doing that she stayed right in that place. But of course, because of her celebrity influence she got out quickly, which is sad. We learned all of this on the video with the funny people, long haired and that main bald boss man, all in the video at their place. 

We went down this hill with a lot of ivy, where a hotel was in the distance. Nasareen informed us that this was the place where Michael Jackson had died, and the people on the video confirmed that actually TMZ was out in the parking lot looking for him and were among the first to know he was dead, who then tipped off the police. I guess paparazzi can be good for something. Then the video ended. It was sad to remember that he was dead. 

I remember that day, partying and being at the house of Mrs. Cheryl Rodgers, who is the choir director for middle school and other departments at our church. She's really nice and even has a studio in her basement. I'll actually see her today. We were watching the television and learned of his death in their living room on that summer 2008 day. Mrs. Cheryl's husband, Art, was actually the producer or editor doing the death pictures and story on Michael Jackson, on WSB Channel 2 Action News. Sad day, but I didn't even know who he was until after he had died. 

But, as we all know, MJ had some bad points to his life also, as most Hollywood celebrities do. We drove to the high school where he grew up at (and in the video several other people were talked about going to this school...some of them stars)and we looked at his picture in high school as we looked at the playground, from real thing right outside to the video. Nasareen, as the swings churned in their rusty metal, made the joke of,"I wonder what else Michael Jackson was playing with on this playground" inferring of what he was rumored of doing... bad things to children I will not speak of. I have only just been plunged into the world of inappropriate things, in the ghastly middle school, so I hate to think of all of these sexual references. Oh my.

Changing the subject...happy Veteran's day.

With a small automotive shop situated by the trees to our right, the bus stopped and we watched another video. It was about how some TMZ people on a tour had stopped and helped Cee-Lo with his little problem. The mechanic wouldn't do something for him and the TMZ person said all these things Cee-Lo would do if he didn't put down the price for the repair, but then the man didn't do it at all. Cee-Lo must hate TMZ now, but it was pretty funny to hear of the recounting of events with all those TMZ people in their little office. It's a constant blabber of  them talking, is what it is. We then passed on. 

Nasareen said the tour was almost over (ah, man!) but as we drove back we would play the "Finger and the Wave." It was when they saw stars and video taped them and we had to pick if they would wave or flick the camera person off. Such a depraved game, but one that I took with ease and an air of nonchalant. I smiled and first we did a really gruff guy, Mike Tyson. Would we wave... or flick them off? I knew from experience that they use tough people and you always think they'll do something mean, but in reality do something nice. I raised my hand, wanting the prize(it was a black TV shirt with white lettering of the TMZ tour) and said finger. Nasareen looked surprised and said, "Are you sure? He's a boxer...really mean?" I was staying by my guns, and after the seconds of him eating were over, he just slightly waved. Yay! Andrew 1 TMZ 0. Then it was the actor who played Frodo in the Lord of the Rings... he was in a subway, and Nasareen was trying to trick me. He was supposed to be a really nice young actor, and because Mike Tyson, mean, had done the wave, we were supposed to think he would do the finger, because this guy was actually nice. But, I was too smart for this. I said wave, and Nasareen said, "Are you sure? He seems like a pretty mean hobbit." 

"I'm sure," I replied, with a smile. 

And then.. the moment we were all waiting for... it finished running, and he smiled as the doors to the subway closed. Haha! Andrew 2 
TMZ 0 

Nasareen handed me a bundled up T-shirt, and I took it, victorious. I now have it in my closet, and I wore it a few days ago. Every time I look at I remember what it took to win it. 

We saw a few more star sights, but then found out when TMZ was founded and that it meant the Thirty Mile Zone, around Hollywood and Beverly Hills. We parked in the parking lot and dispersed. Telling Nasareen the blog, and her saying nice things about me like I was clever and funny, we left her as she told us to watch the show soon as she was going to be featured on it. That was really awesome she was going to be in a show! We left, and went to the Kodak Theatre a little, also to Papa Johns above the Whole Foods, looking down on that deep high sided seating area, and ate some good pizza. We tried to enjoy the street pretenders, star walk, the Mans Theatre and all those handprints for one last day, as this was the last time we were going to see Hollywood Blvd. on the trip. The next day was to see one of Mom's old friends...the notorious Meg. But that's a different story.

I really enjoyed that tour. Nasareen was a great tour guide, funny, nice, and really witty. It was fun to see all the videos and different places, and the opinion of the paparazzi as the evil minded fools faded as I begin to have a little empathy for them. It's their job, and their just people like you and me,and maybe it's a good thing for people's bad secrets to be exposed...so we can know the information and make our own ideas about the people. Nobody's perfect and sometimes it's not good to hide it. Ruining privacy isn't good, but every celebrity, or aspiring one, should know it's a public life, and if they don't want that, then maybe stardom isn't for them. Alright, well, I'll talk to you later.

There should be a paparazzi...for paparazzi,
Andrew. 

Hollywood: Wax Museum on Sunset Blvd. and Homes of Stars Part 1

"Lights! Cameras! Andrew!" (Applause, applause)

Why thank you, thank you. Thanks for that introduction, Spencer. About the only nice thing you've done for me... uhh... maybe.... well that's about the only thing for me. Anyway, in this blog post we will cruise down the legendary Sunset Blvd., see the homes of some of the most famous, and the most unknown to the 12 year old. Places where famous actors resided, got drunk, and then died from some overdose. Hollywood, the place that I so wanted to go even from early childhood of wanting to a be director and actor, but not as a tourist, as an actor. I had done some acting before our visit there, you know, starring in a church play, or doing small videos of written scripts I did at a small playhouse, getting some understanding of how the showbiz was, but basically no major motion picture or a ticket winning sold out Broadway. My friend Henry has, having a couple of minor roles and a few large roles in films done in Atlanta or the Southeast, not even away from home on the West Coast. Atlanta is getting a lot of film stuff now, from gangster movies (we held the cars of that in our warehouse while they edited and saw if they had to use them again) to Ben Ten and the Walking Dead. So maybe I could just stay here and get famous.

But back to the blog. We were going to be in Hollywood, and there was just a sliver of a chance,

but still a chance anyway, that I could be chosen as an extra or even audition, meet a star, and then stay there for a few months, get a movie, become a star myself, then become a real star, planted in the ground, on Mans Theatre. It was the smallest sliver of a chance or hope, like a nanobot or gene firmly in my system, but everyone needs hopes, right? I know I sound just like a wanna-be right now, but I have had this for all my life and am certainly a "going-to-be." Just wait, please just wait.

Just so you know all these events took place on the 14th of March.

Online we looked at which ones were the best tours to see the homes of stars and of different things like that, securing our last name in the tickets. All we had to go was to go up to the very very famous Mans Chinese Theatre, and then find a ticket person and walk to the big vans. Down from Anaheim, onto highways and into and out of the city of Los Angeles (oh and two days before we went and in the Korean district got Dad's computer fixed and then went up to the Hollywood sign past rattlesnakes and trees, looked at a few messed up homes, hilly with short impossible to get up to driveways, also taking pics with tripod of the smudgy and smoggy L.A., and across a few hills from the Hollywood sign. We were high up, and then went back down. Sorry I forgot to mention it, but it wasn't worth having a whole blog post about it, if you know what I mean.) and then into the brick and metal buildings of Hollywood, palm trees like large giants towering above, with a few skyscrapers here and there and hotels with big names and long histories. Sunset Boulevard was very old looking, or the oldest section, despite the people's efforts to make little boutiques with their modern looking glass and fine dresses. I gasped, in disbelief, as we slowly etched down the street in the black jeep.

It was too much to digest, with the Theodore Hotel across the street, in old colors and made of fading brick, little light bulbs still clinging to the ancient letters. We zoomed down into a black hole, also known as a parking garage, among the grey dark pillars, smell of smoke, graffiti everywhere. We got out, going up to an elevator, that was going to go up into Whole Foods, where we would wait until it was time to search out the ticket masters. Up with all the bings and flashing lights, we then went up a small escalator (I had trouble doing this for I am terribly afraid of escalators) and came out into a little exit and enter area, then to outside. Here was staircases on either side and high walls of a boxed in outdoor area, lower than the road and accessible by stairs walking down. There was in the back a glass sliding door building, Whole Foods grocery. We saw people all on their computers and eating vegetables, a sheer ironic scene if you ask me. Needing to go to the restroom we asked people inside, and one guy said that we needed a token, supplying a quarter to us. It cost a quarter to go to the restroom, but they were giving us it and then getting it back? I believe they do that because they know who's trying to get into the restroom, and when they go up asking, they can say no or deny (example suspicious hobo).

We bought some bananas that we ate, after a really small breakfast of yogurt in the R.V., and we sat (Dad and I) with the stuff until the ladies came back from their laboratory. Then we proceeded to walk up the street. I struggled to keep up with my fam as the video camera moved to and fro, capturing what I saw. Beneath my feet in what looked to be black or grey granite were red and pink stars! People's names, and symbols (like microphone if singer, record if musician, camera if actor, that kind of thing) and took hold of everyone from Will Smith to Larry King, and back again. Some of them we posed or took pictures by, and I was amazed to see this landmark that everyone had been talking about. We weren't even in the best part yet. Still to come as we etched by it and passed a little building and entryway, was the Mans Theatre. A big Shrek in costume by his star was on my right, and smiled and took pictures on a big platform. Then I saw it. It was red and gold, with various chinese architecture points, a glorious and very elaborate design. It was tall and with golden trim going all around, ticket booths on each side and a black entrance with Chinese symbols. There was several movie stands, and little places where they sold food. And, then, I saw it.

Those hand prints, those famous hand prints, when in movies of someone no name getting famous, they dream or actually place their hands in the gross wet cement, an eerie foreshadowing of one's career and a stepping stone in every thespian's life. Placing their petite little fingers into the grey mud or their huge palms, basking in the glory and the flashes of the cameras. This is the dream of many, but the accomplishment of few. A dream is an unconscious want, but a goal is an alive active thinking, a plan and resolution, solution, for any problem. Twas was one of the great thinkers that proclaimed, "A goal is just a dream with a deadline." But anyway, we saw those famous names sketched out along side their hand prints, and pondered while looking at the scantily un printed places, spying the remnants of the hands of John Wayne, John Travolta, and Lucille Ball, among several others. I pretended to talk to some of the characters after looking at the prints. Like for instance for Darth Vader, "Darth, your in my picture."(like "Luke, I am your father) or for Elvis, "Your costume wants me to go to the Heartbreak Hotel."(But I never really said it to them) Or instead of laughing or taking pictures, I would just pretend like they were the most normal dressing people in the whole world, passing by and saying "Hello it's a great day, isn't it?" I have loved traveling, just being able to look at all these different people from different places.

Mom and Dad at this point were getting tickets that they had reservations for and selecting the "Hollywood Home of Stars Tour" while guides in blue shirts called out names and took people all the way to their buses. They informed us, as I drifted around looking at the stars to the prints to the people in costume who won't take a picture with you unless you pay money, that the tour was in about an hour and that we could take a tour of the theater or the wax museum, whatever we wanted. Mom and Dad chose the wax museum, where we could speed on at our own time and not really learn anything, just look at waxes of famous people. It was called "Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum." Madame was someone in France who moved to escape the French Revolution and took a few busts with her. The people in New Mexico from Britain told me that on Baker Street, where Sherlock Holmes was supposed to live, there was the first Madame T. Wax Museum, and so I already had a little bit of info on the subject. Anyhow, it was on the left side, the entrance, and we had to pay a little bit of money to get in. There was a large counter in the outdoor area and of course the red little rope thing. A green screen with camera was provided, and a long carpeted ramp with posters and ads congesting the halls, as I then proceeded up as Mom and Rebecca went to the restroom. I then saw the first wax.

It was a blonde headed lady, with a lot of makeup, who tried to look pretty but age was against her on this note. She had this big scarf on or something like that, and was on a red carpet with microphone. She must be some host or something. I forgot her name because I had no reason I wanted to remember it, besides she was a crazy looking star who's life in this world does not probably tamper with anything besides tabloids and entertainment. We passed on from her and went up an elevator, the top level (it goes from 4 to 3 to 2 down to one where it ends) which detailed a traveling exhibit of people famous in the present. In that large room with little white paneling flat columns, electrons in spotlights and LED projections, also an array of clear panels telling the people's names and black radio speakers booming in sound waves like the oceans of Oregon, were many stars. Not literal, however. Justin Bieber, blond hair, bangs, Canadian charm and all, stood in stylish jeans and vest with hands in pockets. I've played the guy in a skit before. George Lopez, tan and black haired and pretty chubby appearance, stood off to the side with a few lesser knowners, including the notorious Simon Cowell, that slick haired mongrel who feasts on the talents of others, and the faults and openings of their singing abilities. Will Smith, with glasses and muscles of African origin, stood with swag and interesting clothing, short and cut up, rough and very casual. They were all very lifelike, in realistic stances according to their personalities.

The little bios, even though we were going quick to get done with this museum, were read by me a lot. I found the shady and unknown backgrounds of many of the stars interesting. The cheesy Canadian with bangs of shaggy proportions actually got famous from Usher (who was right by him in silver bling) looking at him singing on YouTube. George Lopez was very poor in the Mexico area, or the American Southwest. Will Smith wasn't too rich either. They all have something in common though. They all chased their dreams, overcoming diversity and maybe even prejudice, and succeeded, even if it meant dancing and dressing up like a big wolf (Simon Cowell's past).

Of course, we took pictures with all of them, even Lady Gaga, who was scantily clad in silver and black with a feather and white makeup, a ghost like figure that is so unique, that people want her to be a little more normal. I only took a picture with the freak (I'm sorry, no offense for Gaga fans, but in America I can call anyone anything I want as long as I don't threaten them) because my friend Henry likes her, so I was showing him that I met her(even though she was an inanimate object. George Clooney sat at a table reading a script, a clear silver table, and I looked at the silver haired actor talked about so much in all the world that is going on in entertainment. I haven't really followed him too much. Johnny Deep, big long hair and glasses, tan look and the whispy mustache, looked a lot (but not too much) different from the Pirates movie he was featured in. Here he was definitely 21st century, stylish according to modern day's society's definition of it. There were several other famous people in the room, but I don't really want to talk about them. We went down a couple of stairs while looking at some movie posters, and came to the next floor. This was going to be very interesting, I presumed, and I presumed correctly.

Now, before I introduce the next character down on the floor, let ask you who was the best silent film actor and then I'll give you a few hints. Alright, this is your guessing time. Feel free to pause a few moments. Alright, he has a small boulder hat and a cane.... and his initials are CC. Thinking...?

His name is Charlie Chaplain! As we went into the next little section from down the stairs I giggled like a schoolgirl at the sight of one of my favorite actors. This guy portrayed deep and hilarious emotions in the silent movies of the 30's, and was one of the first actor's in the new movies, which Incorporated talking, called the Talkies. He was always acting like a tramp in need of money, with his black suit and tie and then his cane, black and the one he always danced with. I learned a little about him by reading his panel and looking at the small mustache and the lifelike replica of him, and found out his dad was a preacher and he was born in England, plus a good many other things I didn't know about his life.

We passed few a few people from "Gone with the Wind" all the Scarlett O'Hara business and all, and then a few older movies, after seeing all the ones I didn't know. But eventually, through a few rooms and up a little slant, we came from the other room, with the cut out walls, and partook upon an evidence that was evidently shocking. After I posed with Charlie Chaplain I greatly wanted to pose with this one too. Outstretched hands, in red robe, old countenance, big beard.... Moses with staff in the all-so famous scene of Charleston Heston playing the leader of the jews from the Holy Land. Mom and Dad said that it was supposed to be a really famous movie but I hadn't really heard of it before.  But I'm not well informed, you know.

Mom shrieked in delight as she saw her film heroes.... the male ones. It was Paul Newman and Robert Redford, dressed in their cowboy attire, on hay bales and in a shack with push in doors with John Wayne behind them, holding his long rifle with a cloak over his neck and most of his body, Hispanic sombrero situated on his head. Redford was more flashy and sparkly, a sliver pistol, nice hat, and interesting vest, blazing with different colors. While Newman was in black boots, a blue shirt, black vest, and a black hat. He looked the most clean and if you will sophisticated of cowboys. I don't know if they really can entitle that word but whatever. Mom loved posing by them, and Dad did too as he probably loved John Wayne's acting skills as much as Americans loved apple pie, or Spencer loved Veronica Jemmings.

Many gunslinger action poses were required for the ops of ops, and luckily the three desperado's were very photogenic, or fotogenica, en Espanol. Oh gosh I'm speaking Spanish again. Ever since I started taking that world language in Middle School I've been calling a t-shirt a camiseta and my sister la hermana.

Anyway, or changing the subject, or even back to the blog, we passed on from them folks, after seeing the legends of film as the sign suggests. Charlie Chaplin, a pioneer of the movies, Charles Heston, Moses awesomeness, and the three cowboy heroes. Well, the country retarded kid from Alabama with the white feathers and the story of Vietnam and the Hippie era was next. You guessed it... Elmo... I mean Forrest Gump. Tom Hanks, skinny and with black short hair, sat on this bench with a box of chocolates that he thinks life relates too. He had a white feather close by. I didn't know who Gump was and hadn't really heard much about the movie, but later on in the trip I'd watch the movie and discover his life story. Mom related to me that he was the symbol of a generation, of idiot innocence and pureness or something like that. Honestly, I'll I saw was an actor on a bench with a box and a suit and a feather, no symbol or giant realization moment of maximum proportions that was stunning. Nah, just an actor on a bench with a box and a suit and feather.

I'm changing the font. Can you notice? Alright whatever. So we didn't see many more film legends as we went up one more level. 4 to 1 to 2. Now it was time for the more popular awesome people that everyone knew... and loved. Not to say I don't like John Wayne and Charlie Chaplain. I'm not sure every teenager today knows a John Wayne or a Charlie Chaplain. That's what I'm trying to say.

They were very lifelike, as I stood with the big eared black president, Barack Obama.He looked just like the pictures. It was in front of a guy with a camera. You could take a professional picture with our current president. There was a big line, so I didn't get to tell him all about what he could do with the country, you know.  The election is in only two days. But anyhow, also I stood with Captain Kirk in his red clothing!!!! I love Star Trek and so it was very awesome to be standing by him, with the bridge of the enterprise in the background. Patrick Swazey and I stood on opposite ends of a log (don't know where that scene's from) and balanced awesomely. Next was Sylvester Stalone, and he was in boxing gloves, sweat, and shorts. I got a cape on and did a little pose with him too. It was fun to see some of my favorite actor's and famous people portrayed in roles, and I greatly enjoyed the cheesy pictures.

Then I saw him. Steven Spielberg, to the right of Obama and his oval desk, and in a bigger open area. I  love so many of the man's movies! Jaws, Jurassic Park, The Gooneys, Indiana Jones, Star Wars,(I don't know if he made this one or not) ET, Tintin, and several others. He was with white beard, vest, jeans, and baseball cap, as is his style. Later in the day I would see this man's big, South Western style of architecture house, on a huge hill. It looked like a hotel, right next to the Hollywood sign. But anyway, I held the horn in his cold, wax fingers, and we moved on to the stars of the Avengers.

I did a yelling face and a clenched fist with the long haired golden colored Thor, all in cape and carrying a hammer. I can't describe to you his clothing... it's all Norse to me (cheesy joke laughing). It had a breastplate though. A long line to stand with Captain Jack Sparrow was behind me, but we didn't go on that as there was a long line and we were about to leave. I left the circle cracked glass where Thor had smashed, walking past all the panels and blue walled break offs, behind a wall in the middle of the room to Iron Man, our red armored friend. He was facing the street of Sunset Boulevard below. Did a pose with him, and we took a picture of Dad with Madonna, and then went in a line for a professional picture taking with Spider Man in a NYC backdrop, and it looked like we were climbing up a building. Pretty cool. We then went down stairs to the lobby, once again waiting outside with the street pretenders (those people who take pictures with you in costumes for money). The wax museum was really fun, and I greatly enjoyed learning about these actors, posing with them, and pretending to see them. Maybe next time I be in Hollywood I'll be meeting those people for real. Perhaps.

"IF YOU'RE DOING THE STAR HOMES TOUR, FOLLOW ME!" Back in front of the Man's theatre, we were following a wreck of a man, ear studs and ear rings, bald, tattoos, with a blue collared shirt with all their company's logos written out. He checked off of the list of people, got out tickets, then handed back the studs all in a good five minutes. We then walked through those sections between the connected buildings, and therefore proceeded to a blue van on a side street, up hill at the back by a parking lot and a few Legoland ads. There was no roof nor seat belts, and the leather seats definitely looked like they had seen better days. We had to go to the back, even though my parents were middle aged and Mom could get claustrophobic in the tight back. At least it was open air, but the bad part was that it was March and so the chill of the morning would make our hair stand. Mom let Rebecca take her coat and I wore the awesome blue hoody I still have to this day. We didn't get the bald mean yell guy, thank goodness, but got a suave, blond haired Cali guy, who we just knew was a native. His long golden locks shone in the sunlight, and if you saw him from a distance you would probably mistake him for Hannah Montana. He addressed us over microphone, saying in a slow, cool voice that we would get to see the Hollywood sign up close (YAY!) and also said to hold on, all hands and feet in, that kind of thing. Before we knew it he was in, addressing us on Sunset Blvd. as we zoomed on to the street, as our un belted bodies shook like bobble heads. Next he went on through the mike that the Theodore Roosevelt Hotel, the brick building with big sign, was constructed in the 20's when this place was a mining town, and therefore served as a lodging. He didn't tell us much old history after that, just stuff about the bars, strip clubs, and all the terrible worldliness, and I could barely hear him as I tried to secure my video camera or capture a shot, but it was terrible as we bounced around, passing all the show signs on the buildings.

My hair covered my eyes half the time, and the coldness was harsh so I had to where the jacket all the time. Plus, the asking of questions, such as why was it called Hollywood, was basically impossible, because of the honking, the tires, the wind, and all the other things. In front of the Mans we learned of it not even being started by anyone Chinese, but as it really being a theatre, where the movies were always first to be displayed. People have to pay thousands of dollars to get their own star, but even so they have to be selected for something they have to pay money for. An interesting system.

We went up after going to a few different places to a blue old Southern bay windowed place, with a lot of paint and a huge witch like roof and house. It was on a hill and had a sign, almost surrounded by trees. Our guide, who's name I never got but I'll call him Hans, told us that this was a club with their own little password, and they had many stars in it (and he listed the names of those) also. We kept driving uphill (LA has A LOT of hills) and then held closely on the swirling road upward, with the asphalt beneath us and the motor churning, to the little parking area overlooking a little forested valley with a little view of Hollywood. I could just barely see the Hollywood sign, across, behind a fence, to the right, away in the distance, and felt so cheated that this was our little "awesome view of the Hollywood sign" described online. We fell for the trap.

I slipped past some seats and ungracefully got out, as Hans talked to some people. I had a long conversation with a man who had lived in Britain and we talked of literature and Mark Twain and some other things for a little while, and then I asked my long aching question. "Where did the name Hollywood come from?" I had asked him twice that day, and he finally answered saying it was part of the Christian plan in the 1800's and a realtor was advertising holy land, and made a big sign for it. It was supposed to be a play on words, and forever since it's been in many movies as the iconic land mark of movie central. Holywood. They just added another l accidentally. I found that very interesting.

In part of Hollywood and LA again, we passed by some bars and hang outs where some famous people go to, even to an exclusive club that demands a lot of money and even all this paperwork. Even Ashton Kutcher couldn't get in. It was marked by a large skyscraper. As I chattered my teeth we got in traffic, where some people voluntarily swerved in front, a few times we passed in front and people honked or almost hit us. Nothing like the peaceful Southeast with magnolia trees abound and fried chicken. No, this was crazy Cali, of liberal, weirdo, drunk, and the down right insane. I still love California though. Hans took all this however with an air of nonchalant, and said while chuckling, "LA driver, no survivor!"

Indeed so. After that, we cruised to Beverly Hills, seeing the black and gold sign in the thickly wooded area. We saw a small green area in the round about area into the subdivision, and Hans told us that Elvis used to play there with his sons. It was very cool to see this interesting sights. Up in to the hills once more, we passed by the long driveways, complete with security cameras and barbed wire gates, of some of Hollywood's finest... or worst. Hans told us the stories of how stars through eggs and food and even hair dryers at "us paparazzi" the slime of this world, those dirty dealing mongrels who love a juicy story to ruin the reputation of people, or to get into all their business and follow them all around. Ugh. It must be a terrible and ruthless existence, waging wars against the world's famous faces, and having to expose the underlying stories which go on in their lives. Ugh.

But now to who we passed. We saw Jennifer Annistan's house, which we couldn't see any of, and was very covered in ivy and all that. On the left was Tom Sellec's house, of white brick and pretty quaint and small, and also Shaquille O'Neil's house, which had a pueblo design with a round about and a lot of trees. Then there was Walt Disney's, secluded, very wide, and with black metal gate, with a mouse head on every fence post. None of these houses we could even step foot in, and also not many of them we could see. In addition, he sped right by each of them so getting a long look at them or even taking a video was scarcely possible. Hans said some other cheesy lines, and we partook sight of Indiana Jones's house (Harrison Ford) which wasn't too shabby. Most of these weren't mansion like, but the house where Michael Jackson died in, currently owned by someone else, was in fact very pretty, white columns and an open view, as was Betty White's house. It was very awesome to see where all these people had resided, did their daily things, even if it was only a few areas. Most of them were very abrupt and private households however. Then, we saw one of the most famous houses of one of the most famous people.

Her name is Lucille Ball. It was great to see the pretty old mansion with nice windows and white columns. She is a very famous actress and he talked about her just for a second though. which no one liked. I couldn't really see most of it too. Well, it was another one of those high on a hill, big fenced, ivy  houses where he actually stopped and talked. It was Elton John's house, and Hans said that Elton made a second apartment coadjoining with his own for his baby and his uhhh.... partner. He needed more room and he HAD to have his band room! So his baby lives in a different building. A little different, but I'm an open minded fellow so..... never mind. It's just different. End of story.

That was basically the end of our tour, but we saw Brad Pitt's house too, with the basketball court, not concealed at all, but really pretty of adobe brick and with his kids sometimes playing b-ball out front. Then we went down into the city, by all the shops and pretty glass boutiques, then back to the Mans. He gave us some coupons at a store and we bought a shirt for me and Rebecca, and got a free pen there also. It was a little cheap store with a lot of souvenirs and memorabilia. Next we went into the parking garage after I took one more sight of the Mans theatre, wax museum, and street pretenders. We went on the highway back to Anaheim to the R.V. park, the really narrow way in, and our small tiled floor RV, leather couches turning into beds, blasting CNN, with Rebecca in the back as I was on the air mattress and she didn't want to put her bed out. I cosied up and went to bed.

That was a very fun day. I got to see some iconic sights, and waxes of several famous people, got to pose with them, and even though the tour wasn't that great and we didn't see that much of the homes thanks to fences, and the tour guide was weird and cheesy, it was still greatly enjoyable.

You might want to know what TMZ is before you read the next blog post.

Goodbye for now.

Roswell blogger, RV resider,
Andrew.