Fight for Your Right to Groom

Sorry about being a little MIA lately. Friday, after our office holiday party, I was a little hungover and trying to justify why I was doing the running man and the pull-your-leg-behind-you dance in front of the entire office. I said one word: "SANGRIA." After that, I've been on a serious deadline. You know, work stuff. But, who needs to talk about that, right?

I did have the chance to pull myself away Sunday night and attend a Toys-4-Tots event put on by the Stuntman's Association. Charlie took me as his date. I asked him before we left if I should pad myself and make my entrance by doing a double tuck triple axel no whammy roundoff. He said "no" and apparently did not find it funny. But I did. And really, that's all that matters.

The party was held at a club on Hollywood Boulevard, which, of course, took us 20 minutes and equally as many trips around the same block to find. Come on people, put SIGNS on the door. I'm not psychic - I can't find your establishment if it's not labeled. It may be cool, but, how cool can it be if no one can find it? Anywho, we finally found it and I passed on the double axel mountain-repelling triple handspring tai kwan do entrance. Everyone was really in shape, but, I guess you have to be when you're jumping off of buildings and kicking Agent Smith's ass in the Matrix. They raked in a ton of toys for the cause which was, of course, the purpose. Dur.

As with most charity events, the highlight for the evening was the entertainment and the RAFFLE. Hell ya, raffles. Love me some raffles. And the crowned jewel for this raffle? A dog grooming appointment with a Hollywood groomer. Oh, it was going to be mine. Granted, I was in a room full of people who could kick my ass in their sleep, but, I was going to have it. I waited so patiently through all the magazine subscriptions and health insurance vouchers and then the moment came. As he called out the number that wasn't even close to either of my tickets, I felt my world falling around me. (Ok, a little dramatic.) But no one answered. So he called out another number, that, again, was no where close to mine. But the guy in front of me won. He went up and asked loudly, "Um, what did I win?" When Santa told him, he said, "But I don't have a dog!" I had to take fate into my own hands. I ran up on stage and yelled "I DO!" Before yanking it out of his hand, I remembered my manners and asked with puppy dog eyes (no pun intended), "Can I have it?" With hundreds of eyes on us (remember, we're ON STAGE), including the deer in headlights look on Charlie's face, he was forced to give it to me - or he was going to look like an ass (of course I didn't). IT WAS MINE!! (Insert evil laugh here.)

Cameron was going to get a Hollywood grooming. He was going to be a moviestar. Ahhhh, glory.

But I called this morning and the lady grooms in East Bum *$#*@, WAY north of Venice. I hadn't even heard of the town she said. So, seeing as I am in the Christmas spirit and hate driving on the 405, I offered to donate it - perhaps it's God's way of saying, "No more stealing people's raffle prizes, Rachel." Dang.

So, Cameron will continue to get his haircut in Culver City. Perhaps it was meant to be. Perhaps this Hollywood groomer would have given him bangs or feathered sides. Ewey.

I have also learned my lesson: Stick to ye prize that thou wins in raffle and steal no other.