I’m blessed enough that to ring in the new year I’ve gone to at least four parties a day for the last couple of days with two more to go today. I just woke up and am racing out the door to New Years Day party #1 at Street, the restaurant I co-own and die for, where there are free homemade donuts and bottomless champagne til 3. So I will resume full-on posting here tomorrow or I’ll miss the dough-filled festivities. For now though, I leave you with two of my favorite things from last night – accessories to my chosen New Years outfit and the comedy icons I got to ring 2012 in with. First, the crowning touch of my wardrobe, a shoey salute to kitsch, these Jeremy Scott Addidas sneakers:

Transparent and way too big for me I stuffed the toes with fuzzy balls. There’s no way I’m going to let size stop me when I see a pair of shoes I like.

I’ve never had shoes with wings before.

My Michael Jackson as sphinx pendant wasn’t bad either:

And how completely dying were my shoes, pendant and I to get to spend New Years Eve with Banana Splits, H.R Pufnstuff, Donny and Marie Show kitsch-God-creator Sid Krofft, seen here with meBeverly D’Angelo and Snappy P.

And how much have I died for Richard Benjamin and Paula Prentiss through the decades?!  Here we are with party hostess, Nancye Ferguson.

To make it a 60’s/70’s comedic love fest, Buck Henry was also there but I forgot to snap a pic. I’m seeing him later today at party #2 and will rectify the situation. In the meantime, here we are a couple of New Years ago:

Ok, gotta split and ring in the New Year with donuts and champagne at Street. Many, many, many more photos to follow from the years end/beginning activites later this week. In the meantime, a very sunny and pleasant 2012 to all and may it be stuffed with exquisite kitsch!!

 

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After six, count them six, Christmas parties/dinners, I combed through my collection to find this patch in case I needed to iron it on over any rips in clothing that might have occurred from ingesting the aforementioned full turkey meals. Somehow the sting of weight gain is outweighed by fashion statements such as these for me.

Introduced as the Alka Seltzer slogan in 1972, “I can’t believe I ate the whole thing” became one of the most popular colloquialisms of its day. Glorified here as an iron-on embroidered fake fur patch, including a rip-off Rolling Stones tongue, this proclamation appeared everywhere from t-shirts to comedy sketches throughout the early 70’s. The slogan roared back briefly in 2005 when Alka Seltzer trotted out Peter Boyle in his “Everyone Loves Raymond” Frank Barone character to moan and groan about post food fest inhalations.

Made by Rayberg Supply Co. of San Carlos, CA., the ‘Pik a Pocket’ fashion accessory didn’t go near any of my jeans back in the day as, just like today, I always knew I ate the whole thing and allowed for it in the size of my clothes.

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I’ve only waited a lifetime for a ride in the famed Oscar Mayer Wienermobile and last Wednesday, December 14, my dream came true!! Susan Olsen, a.k.a. Cindy Brady, the youngest of the B. Bunch, Charles Phoenix, Mark Blackwell and I hopped aboard and rode the wiener to some of our favorite kitsch spots in the San Fernando Valley. When one is onboard such a vehicle, photo opps are not to be missed!

It’s hard to look bad in a photo with The Wienermobile. So there’s going to be A LOT of them in this post, probably enough to serialize the adventure so check back later in the week or beginning of next for more. With that in mind I’ll start slowly, like how we all color-coordinated to look as fabulous against the backdrop of the transportational hot dog as possible. I threw my outfit together last minute but was happy with my choices, picking up all the essential colors of hot dogs, mustard, relish and mayo.

Here’s a closer look at my vintage Legionnaires shirt, made from that kind of expensive 1950’s satin that feels like you’re going down a cashmere slide:

I know there’s no Oscar Mayer at KFC but it was the closest thematically of any shoulder bag I had.  My T-shirt was much more on the nose…

… as were my shoes:

The first thing I did once I was dressed was to roast some wienies.  It gave me a perfect excuse to test out my recently acquired 1958 golfball barbecue:

I cooked up sixteen dogs so we could stuff ourselves throughout the day. Here’s the first  one, literally, on the grill:

First to arrive at Willis Wonderland for our big wiener ride was Mark, who documented us throughout the wiener day:

Next was Susan, appropriately dressed in wiener red:

And then Charles arrived, dressed in a dead-ringer Wienermobile matching suit and carrying a banner bearing our favorite brand’s namesake.

This also doubled as a fashionable cape.

It’s obvious we all passed the color test:

We took many such proof-of-concept photos:

There are so many obvious ways one wants to pose against such a stunning background:

When the Wienermobile first pulled up I wept with joy. I had forever envisioned it in my driveway.  Alas, the wiener was too plump to actually fit so it rested nicely in front until we boarded.

Before stepping into the vehicular hot dog we ran inside for a quick wiener ingestion:

They don’t actually serve food in the Wienermobile so we brought the leftovers with us. But we were so excited to finally board the hot dog we had all been dreaming about since we were born that we forgot and left them on top of my car:

Our Hotdoggers, college interns who serve a full year driving the wiener wondermobile, were Yoli Bologna and Tailgatin’ Traci:

You could literally hear an audible gasp from each of us as we entered the Wienermobile for the first time.

It’s got six seats, a mustard floor,…

… an appropriate floor mat…

… and a sky roof.

The seats were LITERALLY the most comfy car seat any of us had ever sat in. Plush yet solid, with armrests that made you feel like you were waiting in a highchair for a jar of hot dog baby food. We didn’t stop yapping about them the entire afternoon.

We especially loved the embroidered Wienermobile on the back of each seat.

None of us could figure out if the hot dogs on the dash had any purpose other than an as an exceptional decorative touch.

We thought we only had a half hour in the Wienermobile so we headed to Ventura Blvd., the street where we thought there’d be the most foot traffic so we could wave to the masses like beauty queens on a float. Charles mentioned that the real Brady Bunch house, the one used for the exterior shot that pops up in every episode, was probably only blocks away. Not only did I have no idea it was in the hood but Susan – an actual Brady – said she had never even seen it herself! How could this be??!  Cindy-I-mean-Susan explained that as a wee star she couldn’t compute that a house that was clearly two stories…

…was in reality only one.

So the Wienermobile, a deceptibly agile vehicle, whipped a U-ie and headed east toward Dillon St. As the top of the A-frame house poked into sight we started going nuts.

And we SO weren’t the only ones. There were already some sightseers there, dying that not only were they at the Brady house but now the Wienermobile had entered the picture AND a real Brady emerged out of it!  Only God could have put a blessed tourist here at this moment.

Needless to say, we took a lot of photos.

With Susan’s 35 year identity crisis rectified, our Hotdoggers, Yoli and Tracy, told us we could drive around for as long as we wanted.

Elated, we immediately discussed iconic snack food related establishments in the immediate area to best frame us and the Wienermobile. First we headed to a hot dog,:

followed by some chili,…

… a hamburger,…

…and a little something to wash it all down with.

But, alas… I have Christmas shopping to do, three song deadlines to hit, an outline overdue for my new live show, a contract to read, a cat scratcher turntable to assemble, a portrait commission to paint, a bunch of publishing crap to get together, not to mention that I’m supposed to be on vacation in sunny Monterey. So Part 2 of our Wienermobile adventures will appear in a few days.

Until then, eat lots of hot dogs as you kick off the holiday season!

Proceed to Part 2

Oops, I know I promised my Wienermobile blog today but there’s been too much activity to write up the over-three-hour trek through the San Fernando Valley in a wiener, so instead I shall make you all jealous by telling you that I took an unexpected detour to The Madonna Inn again for a little Christmas shopping. Unfortunately, which is wont to happen at this time of year, many of the gifts were for myself.

Me, Snappy P. and Wendy Goldman Rhome, all dedicated aKitschionados, hopped in the mustache van and sped 3 hours to my favorite destination on earth and raided the T-shirt and sweatshirt racks, but only after we ate in the Copper Cafe, which has hands down my favorite fried chicken and cheeseburgers (and decor) in the world.

In most people’s worlds, the odds probably aren’t very good for running into friends  hundreds of miles away from home, but all my friends exhibit stellar taste when it comes to knowing their kitsch so it was no surprise we bumped into Isabel Freed, who was traveling back down the coast to go to LA.

No extensive documentation of the Madonna Inn this time as I’ve done it so many times before. Between my 3 songwriting deadlines, two press shoots of Willis Wonderland, two proposals due, a new outline of my live show, a plethora of Christmas parties, not to mention  finishing my multi-part Wienermobile blog, I need a little  more time to tend to the wiener (post). Which I hope I’m back here tomorrow with.

 

Anyone who knows me knows that despite writing songs that have sold over 50 million copies and being obsessed with music since I can remember I rarely go to concerts. I hate waiting in line, being trapped in a row once you sit down, being blocked by someone’s head or worse yet dancing body, and I certainly don’t want to hear someone in my immediate proximity singing along who I didn’t pop down multiple clams to see. So it’s a really rare occurrence to get me to actually go out and see something. But I’ve been working with Storm Lee…

…he ex of X-Factor and very currently one of the amazing singers on Glee, so I knew I had to haul my ass out to this concert.

What an unbelievable night!! Organized by Storm as a fundraiser for St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital, all of the behind-the-scenes Glee singers sang their favorite Christmas carols or holiday oriented songs. Although I wish they sang selections from this album…

…or maybe this one…

… – oooh, that makes me hungry – though not as hungry as this one…

… the Glee singers’ killer voices, all unique from each other, made for quite a gift from Santa!

It was a night of complete joy, and even included a special appearance by Glee cast member, Amber Riley.

And unbeknownst to me, the keyboard  player/leader of the band was Chris Price, who worked with me on my first appearance in 37 years as well as my Soup to Nuts Party Mix show a couple of months ago.

No rest for the weary, bright and early the next morning, a Sunday no less, Storm and I went to work on my new show, a newly realized iteration of the technologically-train-wrecked Soup to Nuts.

We were very much in the holiday spirt and full of GLEE.

 

If I thought Indonesia could slam it out of the park as far as they shot this kitsch-krested pencil case every time they turned out another product I’d sign up for the mystery package monthly home delivery! Man, this thing is truly insane. Big, ratty cabbage patch-reminiscent heads with little tuffs of madness as limbs…

…and what looks like laundry lint for hair.

And how about that nose?!  Eyes don’t seem very important to this pencil case.

Lucky for me, there were three of these tucked into the bin at Dollar Tree.

Apparently, 2/3s of the litter are elephants:

Although they only got half as much lace around the collar as their sock muffin sister, they got much fancier fabric for cuffs, or should I say arms.

I never would have pegged these pouches as pencil cases.

Although there’s a nice supply of shredded paper inside keeping the little girls/boys/unidentifiable lifeforms nice and plump,…

…the cases aren’t quite long enough to get a whole pencil in should you be starting with a brand new just-sharpened-once one.  It’s an excellent sign in a kitsch world when what the purpose of an object hasn’t been taken into account in its design.


So girl/boy/unidentifiable lifeform, smile for the camera, though not necessarily the pencil case!

I’ve had this thing so long I don’t even remember where I got it from. A petite 6″ x 9″ x 3.5″, d hard plastic goldleaf textured frame surrounds the fluffiest kitty on the planet. I especially love her little forlorn mouth and seafoam blue eyes.

The sad little floral bouquet burrowed in her fur also kills me.

The pussy’s frame almost looks like it’s made out of plaster,…

… but it’s this puffed up thin plastic that cracks like dry twigs in a forest if you even stare too hard at it.

Such a happy pussy!

 

As many times as I’ve stopped at The Madonna Inn, I’ve never stayed overnight until a trip to celebrate my birthday a couple of weekends ago. I’ve always fantasized about staying there. How could I not with each of the 109 rooms uniquely designed and insanely themed, with names like Love Nest, Old Mill, Kona Rock, Irish Hills, Cloud Nine, Just Heaven, Hearts & Flowers, Rock Bottom, Austrian Suite, Cabin Still, Old World Suite, Caveman Room, Elegance, Daisy Mae, Safari Room, Highway Suite, Jungle Rock, American Home, Bridal Falls, and more? I picked the floral crested Madonna Suite, which was personally decorated in the late 60s by the Inn’s Grand Dame, Phyllis Madonna.

The first thing that hits you when you walk in is that signature Madonna Inn carpet:

Next, the generous amount of seating choices:


It’s hard to tell from the photo but that’s monogramed light pink pony skin on the chair backs:

And those are rock stools in front of a working fireplace:

Those are right round the rock from the bed that was way too messy to shoot every time I went to take photos of it. So here’s a close-up  of the bespread just to show that none of the lust for pink was lost in more subtle areas of the room.

There’s also a lot of mirrors.

Those angels are all over the Inn. This one hangs over the bed:

This chandelier hangs over the dining room table and pink cowhide chairs…

…illuminating the Madonna Inn ice bucket and branded glasses…

…and water.

Some other water is branded as well, at least until you lift the lid:

As you can see, I love pink, which reminds me of home:

All the doors, walls and ceilings in the Madonna Suite are pink too:

This door leads into the bathroom:

….that’s lit by nice, simple pink rose lights:

…over a nice, simple rock sink…

… with electrical outlets perched periouslously close to running streams of water that zip through every crevice in the rock:

Everything is embedded into rock, including the Kleenex box…

…and the light switches:

All of this is across the rock floor from a waterfall rock shower:

It’s impossible to see detail here but right above the showerhead a waterfall splashes down from rocks that jut out above it.

I acquired quite a stash of Madonna branded freebies…

…collecting every bag, napkin, pen, soap container, toilet sanitation band, and info sheet the place had to offer.

Though it still didn’t stop me from going a little nuts in the gift shop:

I’m very attached to The Madonna Suite so will probably end up always bunking there whenever I stay overnight, but here are a few other choices I’m toying with for next time:

Old Mill:

Caveman:

Yahoo:

Barrel Of Fun:

Austrian Suite:

American Home:

Vous:

How could I go wrong in any of them?!

Bright and early the weekend before Thanksgiving Prudence Fenton and I hopped in the mustache van and drove up the coast to San Luis Obispo.

If you’ve never been to The Madonna Inn there, drive, fly, walk, bike, whatever mode of transportation it takes, and go there NOW!

I don’t care where you’ve been to see your architectural kitsch, this is one stop shopping of infinitesimal magnitude. I’ve blogged about this place many a time before but one post, even a hundred, could never cover the staggering detail present on the 2200 acres that appear mirage-like on the side of the 101 freeway.

The whole place was designed by this guy

…. for this lady:

Alex Madonna, a construction magnate and entrepreneur who among other things built the section of the 101 the Inn sits next to, built this palace in 1958. These portraits of Alex and his wife Phyllis’ hang right outside the main dining room.

You need a closer look at that mother of all grape lamps in between them. Eight feet of barrel and the most magnificent assemblage of resin grape clusters anywhere:

This hangs right across the cave from this stairway, one of the subtler ones at The Madonna Inn:

Every time I drive up north taking the 101, I stop at The Madonna Inn to eat. Usually I’m in a hurry and just have time to hit the coffee shop. By the way, coffee always tastes better when the sugar is in one of these two forms, available only here:

The pink crystals and rock formations look especially good on the all copper counter and tabletops…

…which are surrounded by all copper decorative trim…

…which makes sense as this is the name of the coffee shop:

But if I’m not in a hurry to get where I’m going I try to park myself in the main dining room, The Gold Rush Steakhouse. I think you can see why:

Here’s another reason:

That’s one big ol’ slab o’ beef! As an animal lover I  don’t like to think about this but the beef is grown mere feet from the restaurant.  Here I am posing at midnight with the subject of my meal:

I always love a restaurant that starts you off with a relish plate:

Far from the usual celery and carrots and olives, this one has salami and a big brick of cheese thrown on top.  Also thrown in for my birthday festivities was Nancye Ferguson, who drove up to join us.

When it’s your birthday at the Madonna Inn your table is marked with a balloon:

Tables with balloons get free cake for dessert:

I had seen the 9″ high pink champagne cakes in the coffeeshop earlier…

So I got a big hunk of it:

Cake always tastes better when it matches the decor.

It’s even better when the decor is decorated for Christmas.

At this time of year, any place there’s room to stick a Christmas tree at The Madonna Inn there is one:

Angles guard over every table:

Some of the most famous rooms at the Madonna Inn are the bathrooms. The most famous is the men’s room. I finally got the balls to sneak in with Jim Burns, a.k.a. Sgt. Frank Woods in Call Of Duty-Black Ops, who also joined us.

Although the giant clam shell sinks are fantastic…

…the legendary waterfall urinal is the main attraction:

Though sans waterfall, the ladies room next door has its own unique charm:

In another bathroom off of the coffeeshop, little girls get their props.  You can’t tell the scale from this photo but the toilet is teeny tiny tot sized…

…and matches the mini little girl sink in the middle of the big gal facilities:

All of this pales next to the bathroom in The Madonna Suite, where I tended to the needs of my roast-beef-sugared-champagne-caked body.

Here’s a little closer look at the sink, though it’s hard to see detail amidst all the rock. Water trickles down all the troughs dug out of the rock.

A full tour of The Madonna Suite tomorrow…