Homeless, Hermés & Godspell

I went to my first Kings game of the season last week.  Great way to cure jet lag.  I love watching the Ice Hockey, it’s so action-packed.  (Going to a game of any sort is on my top 10 things to do in LA).

I have been going with a friend of mine who is a staunch fan with season tickets.  Kings fans are like Collingwood fans—crazy.  But (in the King’s case anyway) great.  That guarantees that the atmosphere is electric and the stands are like a sea of King’s jerseys.  (For those of you not clued into Hockey trivia the King’s won the Stanley Cup (Grand Final) last year so we’re talking big deal for LA).  My favourite by far are the goal keepers.  I can barely follow the puck let alone stop it going into goal.

 

Two funny things about the ice-hockey though:

1. The scantily clad girls who clear the ice every few minutes. And yes, they have their own website.
2. The “control” of the fans.  When they want the fans to start chanting and cheering their cry, “Go Kings Go” they play the theme.  That cues everyone to start the chant.  At one game I tried to start the chant in our group and couldn’t get any momentum at all.  Unlike at the footy or cricket at home, it just takes one person to start and they’re all in.

Anyway, on our way to the car park there’s a homeless guy asking for money.  My girlfriend says to me, “Oh god I’ve got nothing for him today.  We usually collect ones and fives and when we go to the game we give them to him.  Oh well I’m back Saturday so I’ll give him some then.”

I thought nothing of it.  Over the summer holidays a homeless guy was standing at the exit to the car park at the Pier in Santa Monica with a sign saying, “Need money for beer.”  My girlfriend and I thought his honesty was worthy of a couple of dollars.  Then, when I took the wrong turn and ended up back in the car park again we gave him more money.  Seeing people asking for money is just one of those unfortunate things you get used to seeing here.

Then the guy yells out to my friend, “Hi!”  Now the good thing about (most) homeless people is they don’t yell out to you.  My girlfriend winds down her window (figuratively speaking of course but pushing the button to open her window doesn’t quite sound the same) and holds her hands up and says, “I know.  I’m sorry, I don’t have any spare cash today.  I’m back Saturday I’ll give you some then.”  He’s yelling back at her all happy and she says again, “Yeah I know, I’m sorry.  Saturday.”

“Oh my god,” I said to her.  “He full-on knows you and remembers your car.”  Of course he does but I was blown away that this guy knows my friends car and waves to her because he knows there’s a 95 per cent chance she’s giving him some money.

“Congratulations,” I said, “you’ve made my Blog”.

Only in LA.  Well maybe only in America?

Hermés

I love tennis Fridays.  I’ve been playing tennis for years now and I’m still bad at it yet I actually love it.  We have a really nice group of girls (I was terrified of joining a tennis group here in the US for fear they’d be so competitive and it couldn’t be further from that—still we all like to win!).  One of the girls’ sons is going to Australia for Christmas to stay with his (ex) girlfriend’s family so she’s been asking me for advice regarding “gift giving”.

She covered off a Christmas present for the girlfriend and next she wanted to know if she should get the mother something.  “That would be lovely,” I said.  “Just something small to say thank you.”  I said (quite unimaginatively) like a candle or a coffee-table book.”

She thinks for a minute.

“Oh, I was thinking of a Hermes scarf.”

“Oh, OK.  How sweet,” I said.  “That’s so Beverly Hills,” I said with a loving giggle.

If this was my sitcom and there was a soundtrack there would be brakes screeeaching right about now.  Oops.  Didn’t go down so well?

“You’re so sweet, I was just thinking something little, you know? to say thank you.  A nice little token.  God if it was me I’d love a Hermes scarf.”

“Well I was thinking of the bracelets, you know the coloured ones with the H on them, but I think the scarf is a little more appropriate.”

“Yes, I know the ones, you’re right, the scarf is much more appropriate.”

“Of course, that’s you, you’re so gorgeous that’s a lovely gift.  Yes, she’d love it.”

Did I get away with it?  I think I got away with it.

My Chinese name is “not one to dwell” (in joke) so of course I couldn’t help but ponder my gaff.  Then I had a horrible thought.  What if this girl’s mum is a bogan who won’t like the Hermes scarf let alone appreciate it and to make matters worse scoff at it?

So I continued to dig my hole.

“What area does she come from?”

“Sydney.”

(OK, good start.)

“What area of Sydney,” I asked.

“I’m not sure.  Why?”

“Well, I was just thinking that … well … if she lives in certain parts of the City she may well … ummm … not … ummm … appreciate a Hermés scarf.”

“Really?” she looked at me puzzled clearly thinking who in the world would not like a Hermes scarf.

“Yes, well, ummm, there are people who may not … well … appreciate it.  Yes.  I mean … ummm if it were me of course I would but … well … some may not necessarily …  And that would be such a shame because it’s such a lovely thought and … (help me!) …”

“She’s English so I always pictured English women very stylish, they always are when I visit.”

“Oh, yes, absolutely, in London they completely are.”

“Well I guess that’s where I always go, yes, London.”

“..  But .. well .. umm .. in other parts, say the Country, they’re not all stylish, some can be … well …  a little more … ummm … dowdy.  (Then I picture Penelope Keith from The Good Life who would definitely consider herself very stylish and very Hermes-worthy.  Barbara on the other hand would not be Hermes-receptive.  There I rest my case.  And of course my friends are—stylish—but they’re different, they’re not all like them.)

Oh my god, can this please be over.  (Now I’ve just offended my English friends–you get what I mean though don’t you?).

She’s still puzzled (possibly even more so) and extremely perplexed.

“So,” I continue positively, “let me know where they live and I’ll let you know if that will go down well or not.  Don’t forget!”

“OK,” she says, “I will.”

Is it over?  Is it safe for me to rear my ugly head?  Oh god.  Sixteen months in 90210 and I’m still digging myself a hole.

I do wonder if she’s from the North Shore, Eastern Suburbs or way out west.  You know there is a difference.  The same as there is be a difference here.  Now curiosity has got the better of me and I’m dying to know where they live.  Sometimes “not-one-to-dwell” should be “leave-it-the-hell-alone”.

Stay tuned to see if she gets back to me re where they’re from.

Godspell

On Saturday night we went to the final show of the school production Godspell.  School productions aren’t quite what they used to be are they?  I’ve been impressed by all the productions schools have put on—since we’ve been at a few school now such is the life of an Expat.  I’m the one with tears rolling down my eyes and beaming with pride.  I am, in fact, quite embarrassing.

Those of you who know me will know I have a penchant for singing.  It started in the shower then turned more serious chasing karaoke nights—first around Japanese restaurants in Melbourne and then more seriously around Balmain pubs and has graduated to trying desperately to get myself up with the band to sing a few numbers.

I used to be an amazing singer.  I made the choir in Grade six and we went all the way up to Ballarat to sing in an Eisteddfod.  I wanted singing lessons  so badly but they never happened(you know, only to get much better of course).  I don’t know why I never tried out for any of my school plays.  My ex-boyfriend was in a band and I tried so hard to get a gig as the lead singer.  Somehow they never took me up on my offer.  I think it must’ve been because they didn’t want a couple in the band.  Yeah I’m sure that’s it.  If I had my time again (and there was such a thing) I’d be in Glee Club.  And form a rock band.  What a waste of talent right here …

My kids go to a very small private school here in LA.  If you’ve been following along for a while you’ll know that there are a number of famous alumni and a number of famous parents.  Well tonight I saw a number of performances that I’m sure will make the number of famous alumni grow.

It’s not often I name names but watch this space for Cameron Defaria, Kylee Evans, Rio Thoroughgood, Greta Pasqua and Ella Beatty who each gave stand-out performances with great voices.  I hear you protest that you’ve seen some amazing performances at your school and local productions.  I couldn’t agree more.  But when there are Hollywood agents and famous parents in a small and extremely intimate audience you already have a headstart.

As usual the audience was packed with famous identities.  But tonight must be the first time my eyes didn’t wander, no my eyes didn’t leave the stage.  So much so that when we left the carpark my son said, “Wow mum you sat three seats away from Gary Oldman.”

My son, the most celebrity-adverse in our family.  Saw Gary Oldman.  Sitting next to me.

“I what?  Stop it.  Get out of town.”

Epic fail.  I confess looking for Wazza and Annette in the front row but that was the extent of my rubbernecking.  My girlfriend had also jokingly said to keep a lookout for him (Gazza—she has a rather soft spot for him) and I forgot all about it.  Damn you cast of 12 talented boys and girls.  Damn you.

I guess it’s back to LA life with a bang.  Never a dull moment.  I’m so thankful I live where I do and this is part of my everyday reality.  There’s no time to be homesick or worry about what I’m missing at home.

xx It Started in LA xx