Dinner at Little Dom's

Don't believe the hype!

The atmosphere and design of Little Dom's is fantastic but the food selection is limited and the execution less than exemplary which would be understandable but not when you have the gall to charge $8 for a side of fried potatoes.

It's over priced, over rated, and over saturated. I think I still have grease from my meal seeping out of my pores, I don't know that I've ever had that much oil in one meal.

The service is off as well. Our server was too aggressive when she was attending to us and would then disappear for long stretches of time.

The whole place seems out of balance. It reminded me of Olive Garden attempting to be Jones.

Young@Heart Documentary Review

Think of the Young@Heart chorus as the world’s oldest and coolest cover band. Comprised entirely of senior citizens in their 70’s through 90’s, they’ve been rocking audiences around the world since 1982 with an eclectic musical repertoire that includes The Ramones, Jimi Hendrix and The BeeGees. The chorus now stars in an eponymous documentary (opening April 9^th in limited release) which chronicles the preparation for their newest show, buoyantly titled “Alive and Well”.

In October of 2005, director Stephen Walker was introduced to the group the night they performed in his native London. He and his producer/wife, Sally George, were looking for their next project and George saw great potential in the senior singers. Walker was initially skeptical as a few old-timers emerged on stage assisted by walkers. He admits, “I remember thinking this could either be awful or it could be extraordinary.”

His got his answer moments later as the lights dimmed, the chorus rose and launched into a remarkable interpretation of the Talking Heads song “Road to Nowhere”. He was instantly struck at the resonance the music carried in the hands of the singers. That initial impact can be seen throughout the film as Walker peppers music video interludes (including one for “Road to Nowhere”) that punctuate the story with a David Lynch meets David LaChapelle feel.

“I Wanna Be Sedated” takes on a whole new meaning when given the MTV overhaul then setting the video in a nursing home and featuring a man confined to a wheelchair rolling down the putty colored halls singing lines like: “I can't control my fingers, I can't control my toes”. It’s funny and sad, shocking and endearing.

“Young@Heart” begins with “task master” musical director, Bob Cilman, introducing the first song they’ll be learning for the show; “Schizophrenia” by hometown heroes, Sonic Youth. If you’re unfamiliar with the sound of the band, it should be noted that they are considered one of the great “Noise Rock” groups of all time. Remember when your parents used to scream for you to “Turn that racket down!”? This was the music they hated hearing and it gets a mixed reaction from the chorus, some tapping toes and bobbing heads, others plugging their ears.

Considering that almost all of them contend that they love “Classical [music] with Opera on top”, they’re pretty good sports. Even when they dislike a song or struggle along the way, you can see their passion for music and the desire to try anything new. As one cast member says, he joined the chorus to “broaden [his] horizons”…He’s 86.

But struggle they do. If you’ve ever tried to teach someone over the age of 50 to text message, you’ll feel enormous swells of sympathy for Cilman. You think getting a 60 year old to type “c u soon” is difficult? Imagine teaching musicality, rhythm and lyrics. It makes programming the VCR look easy. As a musical director, Cilman is tough, even harsh on occasion. He isn’t a hand holder and doesn’t treat the seniors with kid gloves or pander to them like children. He demands the best from them and they strive mightily to deliver while you find yourself gripping the arm rest, silently praying that lyrics won’t be forgotten. Who knew James Brown was such a beast to master?

The films emotional resonance comes from the knowledge that everything is finite. No one wants to be reminded of their mortality but there’s no way to shy away from it when you’re watching a film comprised of a group with a median age over 80. One of the most poignant scenes is during a performance inside a prison. Time is a cruel mistress. For some it moves too fast, for others, too slow and here you see the brutality of that reality at its most blaring.

Truth be told, I haven’t cried this hard in a film since “E.T.”, however, the threat of death is the best reminder of life and “Young@Heart” ultimately inspires you to live every day fully and passionately. They may be old, but they’re still rocking.

My Date From Hell

Dating Sucks!

When did men decide that being dismissive and rude was endearing? These days, dating can seem as antiquated as a pay phone but we still have to do it and I’ve been noticing an intense devolution of the men out there.

Case in point: Brian, Date from Hell, March 26^th, 2008.

Brian’s name has not been changed to protect his “innocence”. Hopefully he reads this and learns a valuable lesson about how not to be a tool. His last name isn’t withheld either, I never took the time to find out what it was.

Here’s the brief back story.

Brian and I met at a bar around 1am on a Friday night. He came over, we talked briefly, he happened to be one of the cuter boys in the place that night so we made out for a few minutes. He was so cute in fact, I was willing to overlook the fact that he was wearing one of the lamest, most douche-baggy shirts I’d ever seen in my life; a white button down short sleeve dress shirt with two guns in a holster screen printed across the back and front.

Gentlemen, please, NEVER wear a dress shirt that has been screen printed, embroidered or bedazzled. Nothing screams Bridge and Tunnel Euro-Trash quite like an embellished button down so you know this boy was cute as hell if I was willing to ignore what he had going on below the neck.

Back to the action! We’re kissing in the middle of the club (tacky but fun) but my friends wanted to leave (don’t they always just as things seem to be going well?). He asks for my number which I happily pass along and that was that. I figured it was a fun little Friday night memory. He was an adequate kisser and looked like Lillo Brancato from “A Bronx Tale” who I had a huge crush on in high school, it was a perfect little tidbit for me and my girlfriends to giggle about.

Then Sunday evening rolls around and I get a text from him asking me out. Yes, ladies, a text, which was fine with me since this obviously wasn’t going to be a guy I’d marry but he might be a nice little booty call until something better came along. He asks me out for Wednesday and I’m thinking, “It’s so on! A little dinner, a drinky-pooh and we can totally do the do!”

Wednesday afternoon, I’m waiting for the pre-date text to make sure we’re still on. And I’m waiting and waiting and waiting. I took a poll and most of the women (and men) I spoke to had the same cut off time for the “Just checking in about tonight” text: 3pm! Well, Brian sends it at 7pm. Red Flag number one! And then he tells me I need to figure out what we’re going to do. Red Flag number two!

The angel on my shoulder says, “Forget this guy. I’m gonna get a burrito and watch America’s Next Top Model. That sounds like a blast.” But my hair was already done, I’d shaved AND waxed, I looked super cute, there was no turning back, I was going.

I meet him at a bar near his place on the other side of town, partially because I didn’t want him to know where I lived but largely because his lazy ass didn’t offer to meet somewhere half way. I walk in and he’s sitting in the back looking cuter than I remembered (holla!). He hugs me and says, “I’ve been waiting for ten minutes.” Not in a cute, joking I’ve-been-so-excited-to-see-you way but in a I’ve-been-waiting-and-I’m-annoyed way. Red Flag number three. I’m starting to fear I’ve wasted gas and a good wax.

He’s drinking something and I asked what it is, “Vodka soda” he grunts. “That’s what I was going to order” I smile.

Silence! Crickets!

He’s facing the bar and there are TWO waitresses within ten feet of us while the bar is maybe one foot past them and he never offers me a drink. Not then, not later, not at any point. Klassy! Apparently he was unable to form the words to offer me either a drink OR a compliment. No “You look nice”. Nothing! I remained parched and largely unnoticed for the rest of the evening.

I sit down in a long booth and he takes a seat…about four feet away from me. “Why are you sitting so far away?” I ask. “This was where I was sitting before you got here and I’m comfortable.” Awesome! He’s sullen, crabby, and apparently unable to make eye contact while sitting far enough away from me to convince me I have bubonic plague.

Over the next 17 minutes this is what I learn:

-He’s an “actor” who works as a flower shop delivery guy two days a week. Just say you live off your parents and have no career and save the energy.

-He thinks telling me my breath smells will inspire me to fall madly in love with him…it doesn’t. It makes me want to kick him in the nuts.

-Despite the fact his father passed away a few years ago, he proclaims he doesn’t believe in memories or photographs. “Every moment is perfect. I live in the perfection of now,” he tells me as I silently dry heavy, “Holding onto the past is a waste of the now. What do you do when you eat something that tastes bad?” he asks me. “I spit it out” I answer. “DON’T! Taste it! Experience it! You need the bad moments to appreciate the good,” He proclaims sounding like a bad acting teacher or a Scientology reject. “No, I don’t,” I explain, “I REMEMBER what bad tastes like so I don’t make the mistake of eating it again,” I say, ironically, since you could insert the word “date” where the word “eat” is and maybe he’d see I’m talking about him!

“I just know myself really well,” he says (something no one under the age of 50 should ever say) “I don’t want to talk about me anymore.”

This is the moment, Men, where you’re supposed to say, “Let’s talk about you”. He doesn’t. He finishes his drink and says, “I’m thirsty.” "Me TOO,” I practically bark. “I don’t want something alcoholic though.” “Just a little somethin’ to whet yur whistle?” I’m so thoroughly over him, I don’t even try to mask the sarcasm. Then he starts staring at me. “What? Are we having a staring contest now?” I ask. “Do you want to have a staring contest” he counters, taking a wild stab at being sexy...and missing. Now that I feel like I’ve walked into The 40 Year Old Virgin, I’ve had enough.

“Since you don’t want to talk about you, let me tell you something about me,” I say, reaching into my bag and pulling out the two condoms I brought with me on the off chance Brian actually had game. “Just so you know, you totally could’ve fucked me tonight but you’ve played this so badly, I’m gonna go.” “Are you serious?” he asks, stunned. “Oh yeah,” I smile, “and the next time you invite a girl out, you should actually try to get to know her and not treat her like a piece of furniture.”

With that, I grab my bag and I’m out the door.

Not two minutes later I get two text messages. “Wow :)” and “Thanks for meeting me.”

I delete his number from my Blackberry.

An hour and a half later I get a third text: “The next time you meet a guy just to have sex, you should come right out and tell him, don’t beat around the bush.”

I didn’t respond; he wasn’t worth it. Besides, I was too busy wondering why he was living in the perfection of a moment that had happened almost two hours ago.

Like I said; Dating Sucks!

"Jack and Jill vs. The World" Movie Response, EWWWWWW

I just finished watching a screener of "Jack and Jill vs. The World" starring Freddie Prinze Jr. and Taryn Manning, written, directed, produced and co-starring Vanessa Parise, a woman who is obviously looking to launch her career by tackling a feature all by her lonesome and doing a remarkably bad job of it. Her film can only be described as the longest 89 minutes of my life.

When Freddie Prinze Jr, looking bloated and worn out while trying to do his best Patrick Bateman (and failing), is the best actor in a piece, you know you're in trouble. Taryn Manning is desperately trying to recreate Drew Barrymore but comes across as utterly charmless and vacant.

As far as writing goes, I think my favorite lines were, "I come from an island. The island of heart surrounded by the sea of intuition" or "Boingo, boingo! Time to be a mommy!!!" Anyone who would knowingly scribe those lines and then, even more sinful, direct the horrendous performances that accompany them (and they're even worst when badly acted) should be ashamed of themselves (yes, Vanessa, I’m talking to you).

The film is riddled with holes and contrivances. For example, how does Manning’s character find her way to the roof of the executive building she has no business being in? I get it, she has to meet Prinze somehow but come on! And then, to illustrate her wild child-ness, she drop kicks her phone off the roof and onto the congested streets of New York. Riiiiight! That’s like when Indiana Jones throws a gun away because it’s out of bullets. The love story is pitifully slapped together with chewing gum and scotch tape while Manning and Prinze have the electric chemistry of 20 watt bulb.

Ohhh, and did I forget to mention this reheated Love Story is boy meets girl, girl inspires boy to buy free trade coffee and leave his six figure a year advertising executive job because that’s what righteous people do (again, riiiiight), girl reveals she has cystic fibrosis…STOP! Hold the phone! Is that supposed to make up for the bad acting, heinous direction and sophomoric writing? She’s got a tragic and terminal disease?!?!? Well, it doesn’t. It almost becomes laughable and should greatly anger anyone whose life has been touched by the disease which is awful and painful and tragic and not something to be trotted out for your shlocky script. If Parise’s family or life has been affected by the disease, she should have written about it in her journal, not used it as a dramatic device in a film that will rot on a shelf if there is any justice in the world.

The film is excruciating on every level; writing, acting, directing, even wardrobe (apparently free spirits need to wear odious amounts of pink). This is the kind of flick that gives independent filmmaking a bad name.

"Stop Loss"-Movie Response

After ogling the online trailer for nearly five months, I finally went to a screening of "Stop Loss" last night. All atwitter knowing a bevy of beautiful, shirtless men were awaiting me, I felt like a kid in a candy store.

Sure, I care about the issues as much as the next girl but, come on, we all know the majority of ticket sales on opening weekend will come from people excited to watch the scrumptious Channing Tatum cry while being both tender and masculine or see Mr. Newly-Single-and-Ready-to-Mingle himself, Ryan Phillippe, strut around half naked caressing a shotgun. Let’s just call a spade a spade.

The film is Kimberly Peirce’s follow up to “Boys Don’t Cry” and it was ten years in the making. Her brother chose to enlist after 9-11 and was sent to Iraq. Upon his return he shared stories and videos (which are utilized and emulated in the movie) created during his tour and Peirce found the inspiration she’d be looking for.

“Stop Loss” follows a group of soldiers as they finish a tour in Iraq and return home, decorated and celebrated veterans, ready to return to life as civilians. Or so they think. Thanks to the demented mind of George W. Bush and his cronies, realizing there was no way to continue their idiotic siege on Iraq without exploiting even more innocent people, they created a back door draft known as the Stop Loss clause where any soldier can be sent back to battle if it is necessitated in wartime. But “Stop Loss” isn’t just about this egregious policy, it’s about the emotional ramifications war takes on the psyche of these young men, the fall out witnessed by the people who love them and the bonds between soldiers who fight and die side by side.

It has all the makings of something truly great…but it falls short.

Kimberly Peirce loves to create a world and then let it suffocate you. She did it with “Boys Don’t Cry”; she does it with “Stop Loss”. She never allows the audience to feel the emotional resonance of a situation because she lets her actors feel it for us. Worse yet, there are no layers, no subtlety. From the moment the film starts you’re driving toward a brick wall at 90 miles an hour and you just sit there waiting for the crash tensely. There was never a moment in “Boys Don’t Cry” when I wasn’t anticipating a horrific, violent murder. I understand that soldiers live in a constant state of PTSD inducing terror and adrenaline but this is a film and I want an emotional experience.

On more than one occasion I felt like I was watching a remake of “Varsity Blues” but take out football, insert Iraq and replace “I don’t want your life” with “This family is done fightin’ this war”. The truth is you can see the ghost of something remarkable. If you watch the trailer and compare it to the film, you’ll find plot points that would’ve helped shape the film immensely but have been amputated, leaving behind the itch of a phantom limb.

Luckily, Channing and Ryan are as stunning as you might hope and Joseph Gordon-Levitt continues to define himself as The One to Watch, not just because he stunning and looks like a young Keanu Reeves but because this kid will continue acting for decades and deserves the roles Ryan Gosling gets.

Let’s Do a Can-Can: It’s Crepe Time

Ahhh, the French. We can thank them for Brigitte Bardot, Champagne and Crepes, all tantalizing creations. Crepes Dusigne, a tiny café which opened only four months ago, is easily whiz-by-able on Olympic but take heed; you’re passing up an edible stroll down the Seine served with a side of whipped cream. Pump the brakes!!! It’s Crepe Time! (Oh la la)

Just off Sawtelle (and around the corner from the nefarious, sub-par Crepe Nazi with all his stupid rules at Crepes To Go) is a lovely and talented Frenchman awaiting your arrival, griddles toasty, spatula in hand. Both owner and crepe master, he takes and makes your order while you settle into one of the six small tables, three inside, three outside, which, luckily, have yet to be overrun.

Everything about Crepes Dusigne is slightly truncated; the menu is succinct, seating is limited and the wait for your order to arrive is mercifully short. Well, almost everything. When it comes to delectability and portions, they invite you to indulge.

The menu is simple but perfectly executed. Offering both sweet and savory crepes, your choices are limited to the best options.

Traditional savory buckwheat crepes, served with a small, undressed side salad, come with your choice of cheese, egg, ham, turkey, smoked salmon, sundried tomatoes, mushrooms, artichokes and spinach. That’s all they serve and, in truth, that’s all you need.

You can vie for zen bliss (just gimme the cheese!) or load up on what they call “The Works” (everything on the menu in one delightful crepe bursting at the seams with yumminess), it all depends on your mood and the vastness of your appetite. The Works offers a different flavor experience bite to bite as you unearth a treasure trove of flavors; turkey and sundried tomato on one forkful, artichoke and spinach on the next. Smoked salmon, cream cheese and capers are a stellar combination bringing together oozing cheese, meaty smoke and a poppy, tart punch. The towering flavor of two little choices, Ham and Cheese, transports you from the congested whir on Olympic to a far flung Arrodissement where accordion music wafts around you and people wear berets. Oui, oui!

Sweet offerings are equally simple and divine. Sugar (regular or with lime), chocolate, jam, Nutella, banana and Grand Marnier crepes are served with whipped cream before being drizzled with melted chocolate and powered sugar.

Sugar crepes arrive with caramelized sugar and melted butter filling the slightly sweetened thin pancake and leaving you wondering if eating a second order is bad…or bad in a good way. Classic Nutella meltingly gives way as knife and fork dive into the hazelnut goodness sending a bit of the scrumptiousness out from under its pillowy retreat and occasionally forcing a finger-to-plate-to-mouth situation. Manners be damned! We’re Americans, who cares how gross we look? This stuff is good and it would be a sin to waste even a morsel!

Crepes Dusigne succeeds in the details; the little chocolates served with freshly brewed coffee, the quality of ingredients used, the fact that the owner offered a complimentary plate of sweet crepes after noticing my enthusiasm for his restaurant (and he never knew I was there to research a review). With prices starting at $3.25 and topping out at $8.00, one wonders why anyone would bother with a plane ticket when there’s a plateful of France waiting in West LA. Viva la Crepe!

Crepes Dusigne

11301 W. Olympic Blvd.

#125

Los Angeles, CA 90064

310.473.0903

Tues-Thurs: 8am-6pm

Fri-Sat: 8am-11pm

Closed Sunday and Monday

Besides crepes, my other favorite French food is a great Nicoise Salad but I rarely have the time or ingredients to make one so I created a recipe for a quick, easy, low fat, high protein, low carb one. It’s great to throw together in the summer and keep in the fridge for a fast lunch or snack and the tastes intensify the longer you allow them to macerate. Just save the romaine for last or else the leaves get too soggy.

Quickie “Nicoise” Salad

Serves 2

Salad-

1 cup French (small and thin like all things French) green beans, trimmed

1 can water packed, dolphin safe tuna, drained

½ cup English cucumber (skin on), diced

10-12 cherry tomatoes, halved

6-8 Nicoise (Kalamata is a fine substitute) olives, pitted and halved

2 Tablespoons fresh basil, julienned (there is no substitute for fresh)

1 head Romaine lettuce, torn into bite sized pieces

Dressing-

4 Tablespoons balsamic vinegar

2 Tablespoons Dijon mustard

2 teaspoons honey, maple syrup or brown sugar (not all three, just pick one to act as a sweetening balance)

1 clove chopped garlic

4 Tablespoons olive oil

salt and pepper to taste

1. Place green beans in a large, microwave safe bowl.
2. Microwave green beans on high for 45 seconds.
3. Add tuna, cucumber, tomatoes, olives and basil to green beans. Mix well and set aside.
4. In a small bowl, combine vinegar, mustard, and either honey, maple syrup or sugar and garlic. Mix well.
5. Add olive oil in a steady stream until mixture is well emulsified. Add salt and pepper to taste.
6. Add vinaigrette to tuna/vegetable mixture and check seasoning.
7. Arrange torn romaine leaves on two plates and top with tuna mixture.
8. Enjoy!

Lou: Really? This is What All the Hype Was About?

Small plates, hard to find, non-descript locale and a rave winning dish called “Pig Candy”? What foodie isn’t intrigued? If you’re cool enough to have heard about Lou, the new semi-organic-wine-bar-meets-pseudo-tapas outlet in a slightly ominous strip mall on Vine, you’re cool enough to know, it ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Bypassing tried and true favorites Tere’s and Mario’s Peruvian, you’ll come to the intersection of Melrose and Vine with its crop of mini malls. Housed in one of these florescent lit, Laundromat rich establishments is a dark door that seems as innocuous as the next. If you look closely enough, overhead you’ll see a devastatingly simple sign that whispers “Lou”.

Step inside and you’re instantly transported to a mecca of claustrophobic cool. The design is excellent beyond reproach with splashy Warhol-esque curtains blotting the outside world, birch tree wall paper, low light and books on wine resting in cubes behind the bar. One long communal table (a seeming prerequisite for all new tapas restaurants these days) is surrounded by smaller tables for two or four on either side. Get ready to smush and don’t talk about anything you don’t want your neighbors to hear about. I was practically the third wheel on a first date taking place to my left. A trip to the bathroom feels like you’ve been let out of a cage, there’s suddenly so much room you almost don’t know what to do with yourself.

They don’t take reservations so the wait can be long but the wine list is well executed, researched and descriptive. Word to the wise, at all costs, avoid the Organic Beer! Don’t let the bartender trick you! Even a die hard microbrew lover would be hard pressed not to spit this swill directly on the floor. Wine really is the focus here with 35 options available for two ounce tastings, by the glass or bottle and Tuesday Flight Nights.

Once seated, the menu offers a selection of “Snacks”, “Salads”, “Cheese and charcuterie”, “Supper” and “Dessert”. Here’s the conundrum: Are they serving small plate tapas or dishes that are meant to be a meal? At the prices listed ($6-10 for snacks, $8-12 for salads and $12-19 for supper) I expect a dish that will serve as a meal. At Lou, sadly, I’m mistaken. Luckily, the food is largely delicious if unbearably overpriced.

Pig Candy, their claim to fame, is bite sized pieces of Niman Bacon, coated in brown sugar and cayenne pepper before being baked to a crisp, sugary finish. My two companions were reduced to blathering fools they were so disarmed by the tastiness. The menu at Lou changes based on the availability of ingredients from local growers and the popularity of dishes but Pig Candy is a year round fixture and their crowning achievement.

The Savory Tart with Wild Mushrooms, Green Garlic and Goat Cheese served with a lightly dressed (but too heavily salted) Frisee Salad is delicious, accented by the different notes each mushroom sang. Some are meaty, others smoky, others nutty. Mixed with the creamy goat cheese and thin yet toothy crust, the only complaint is finishing the dish in four bites and yearned for a second helping.

Warm Salad of Farro tossed with wilted Pea Tendrils, Roasted Winter Squash, Dried Cranberries and Roasted Hazelnuts, served with Blue Cheese Smeared Toast gives a new understanding of why the Romans considered this grain a feast. Robust and satisfying yet still clean and light, there is a perfect balance in each bite.

Niman Flat Iron Steak with Bistro Potatoes and Wild Arugula was another stand out and seemed to be the most popular dish of the night as plate after plate was seen exiting the kitchen. The steak is sauced with a light, sweet au jus, arriving medium rare, pink and tender with a surprisingly snappy outer crust. Bistro Potatoes are divine though also overly salted.

Lou is somewhat uneven. This is a wine bar after all and sometimes the food seems like the bastard stepchild. When bread was requested, it arrived stale and without butter. When butter was served, it came in foil wrapped pats, a la IHOP. Potato Leek Soup tastes like it came from the Pavilions across the street, the charcuterie plank was less than inspired and there seems to be a heavy reliance on both Frisee and Baby Arugula. Worst of all, only ten minutes after the hefty bill arrives, you might find you stomach growling. Luckily there’s a donut shop next door and Tere’s is only a block away. And you can still tell the cool kids you ate at Lou.

Lou

724 N Vine St

Los Angeles, CA 90038

Mon-Sat: 6pm-12am

323.962.6369

Here’s my rendition of the best dish Lou is currently serving:

Farro Salad

2 cups Farro, rinsed and drained (Brown Rice can be substituted)
5 cups water
1 package “Fresh Harvest Medley” from Trader Joe’s (or 3 cups of any combo of winter vegetables: yams, butternut squash, turnips, brussel sprouts, pumpkin, etc)
½ cup nuts (hazelnuts, pinenuts or walnuts are all good choices)

1 tablespoon fresh thyme, minced
3 tablespoons olive oil
½ cup mixed dried cranberries, tart cherries and golden raisins

2 cups arugula
1 ½ tablespoons toasted walnut oil (or more olive oil)
Salt to taste

1. Preheat oven to 375.

2. Combine farro, salt, and water in a large, heavy saucepan over medium heat. Cover and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the farro is tender, 45 minutes to an hour.

3. Remove from heat, drain any excess water, and set aside.

4. While the farro is cooking, toss vegetables, nuts and thyme with olive oil and salt to taste.

5. Arrange in a single layer and roast until golden, about 25 minutes.

6. In a large bowl gently toss all ingredients with additional oil. Test for seasoning and adjust if necessary.

7. Enjoy!

Hillary Clinton is Too Legit To Quit

The Best Nude Beaches in Europe

In Europe, where the body isn’t seen as shameful, they invite you to enjoy nude beaches where you may trot around freely, getting sunburned in places that hurt worse than you can imagine. But it sure is fun at the time. Here are a few to add to the trip to-do list:

Plage de Tahiti
Saint Tropez, France

Saint Tropez has long been famous for its beaches, especially the ones Brigitte Bardot and Ursula Andress luxuriated on while the wearing teeny tiny bikinis that rocked the 1950s. By the 60s, toplessness was de rigueur and now just about any beach along the Riviera welcomes the show. Plage de Tahiti, however, goes the extra mile and invites visitors to enjoy both the clothing-optional policy and risqué atmosphere. If you want to spy royalty, jet setters and celebrities in search of a tan-line free experience, this is the place to be during the hot summer months. The Côte d'Azur town is packed from May-August so heed this advice: Avoid arriving on weekends unless you enjoy chaos and melee, and be sure to make hotel reservations far in advance if you plan on staying overnight.

If you decide that beach time isn’t enough nakedness, visit Cap d'Adge, a French city that welcomes “naturist” (aka: nudist) in all their glory. You can bank, grocery shop, enjoy brunch, all in the buff. It’s like that dream where you’re walking down the street naked, except, this time, everyone else is naked too.

Paradise Beach
Mykonos, Greece

Aren’t we all searching for paradise? Isn’t that why you take a vacation? Welcome to Mykonos, one of the most popular and cosmopolitan island destinations in Greece and home to Paradise Beach. If your idea of paradise is an equal mix of nudism and toplessness spread across an age demographic from children to great-grandparents (let us say, gravity is a cruel mistress), where the music and libations start flowing at 3 or 4pm, this is the beach for you! There are two bars for your convenience, the Sunrise Bar and the Tropicana and, once a month in the summer, there’s a full moon party. Mark it in your lunar calendar!

Playa d’en Bossa
Ibiza, Spain

In a place already know for its hedonism, legendary parties and exceptional beaches, wouldn’t you expect Ibiza to have the market cornered on nude enjoyment? Playa d'en Bossa (Platja d’en Bossa) is the longest beach on Ibiza and one of the most popular which means there are plenty of bars and cafes to enjoy in your birthday suit. In Spain, you don’t have to fight for your right to party in the nude. Nudism is one of your civil liberties according to the Spanish Naturist Federation. Foam party, here you come!

The Hollywood To-Do List

Welcome to Hollywood where it’s not who you know but who you blow. In order to keep up with the times, here is a list of the Absolute To-Do’s, those who will make or break your existence in the City of Lost Angels. So get out the knee pads, boys and girls, and open wide.

The Gate Keepers-

Who: The Winston’s Three, the boys who guard the door at Winston’s on their coveted Thursday, Saturday and Monday nights.

Why: Because you want to party with the Hiltons, the Olsens, half the staff of Endeavor and anyone associated with the Huvane Dynasty too! (Youngest brother, Chris, is a partner in the bar.)

Intro Line: “I’m friends with Al.” (Al is another owner who’s rarely there. Say you met him at 24 Hour Fitness.)

The Hyphenate-

Who: Dead sexy Canadian Jew, Seth Rogan.

Why: Because his films consistently gross over 100 million dollars, he’s been nominated for an Emmy, and he can ingratiate you to the Judd Apatow Gravy Train Posse. So what if he’s got the kind of love handle/belly rolls that could smuggle drugs through Bolivia?

Intro Line: “Wanna play Green Hornet and Wonder Woman?”

*Added bonus, you kill three clichés with one fell swoop: writer-producer-actor! Hooray for Hollywood.

The Meal Ticket-

Who: Tom Collichio, Crafty Daddy.

Why: Because Craft’s West Cost incarnation is strictly for Ballers with expense accounts and the name recognition to get a table. Once inside, you’ll have access to 99% of CAA and the clients they love.

Intro Line: “Your Wagyu Rib Eye blows my mind!”

The Girl Friday-

Who: Debbie Liebling, Foxy Mama.

Why: Because Trey Parker and Matt Stone have an altar devoted to her and she’s responsible for bringing “Borat” to a theater near you. Does the word “Zeitgeist” ring a bell?

Intro line: “So…I hear you dig Chocolate Salty Balls.”

The Mouth-

Who: Perez Hilton (Hey, we didn’t say this would be easy).

Why: Because his blog gets about 55 million hits a month. One mention and you’re in the pantheon of Brit Brit, La Lohan, and Brangelina.

Intro Line: “I got your scoop right here.”

Written 9.9.07

Sticky Situations, The Life of a Soft Core Porn PA

Sticky Situations, Written for FoxAtomic/Madatoms.com

There are no names to protect the innocent but let me be very clear, THIS IS NOT MY STORY, this is the retelling of my anonymous friend's first job in the "industry".

My first job in the entertainment industry was as a Soft-Core Porn PA.

I’m livin' the dream!

That’s what I kept telling myself the first day on set (a strip club in Commerce that was dirty-irty-irty) as I sat for lighting tests on a crystal bed covered with glass dildos and paddles with heart cut outs (for a Valentine’s Day perfect mark).

Livin’ the dream! Livin’ the dream! I bet Spielberg totally had jobs like this!

Hollywood is all about paying your dues. I paid my dues by watching two people pretend to hump, patch-and-sock style. For those of you who still think Skin-amax is hot, realize, while he’s pretending to ravish her behind gossamer curtains, a nylon knee high “sock” is smacking her “patch”-ed ass while a producer, two feet away, watches like a hawk to make sure there’s no skin on skin action or else the “actors” get a pay bump.

Though accidents happen. Sometimes scenes are shot with hardcore actors, people who aren’t used to not really having sex. One time, the DP, grasping at straws to be able to tell himself that this wasn’t “real porn”, starts screaming “CUT! CUT!” After shooting over 300 hours of folks dry humping, he caught a glimpse of some real penetration, threw a fit and threatened to quit. Everyone has their limit.

Like the time they needed another extra in a Marine barrack gang bang scene. They asked “What would it take to get you to do this?” I really really really didn’t want to. “What happens if I end up running Disney?” I asked. How do you explain that to the Mouse? “How much would it take?” they asked. How do you put a price on your dignity, your future, your pride? I did it for an extra $100 bucks. But I made them spray dye my hair and gave me fake stubble.

Then, one day, I got fired. Have you ever thought how it feels to get fired from a porno shoot? Just imagine it for a minute. The porn industry just declared that you are not good enough.

So, I moved on to Reality TV.

And you know what I learned? The line between reality shows and soft core porn is very thin. Hey, I’m livin’ the dream.

Celebrities Bios

I was commissioned by an internet site to write bios on 30 celebrities.

Here were the guidelines:

Must Include-

Place and date of birth
Real name if different than stage name
Awards and honors
Reason they inspire public scrutiny
50-75 words or less
Originally written with a clear "voice"
No repeating order, change the way the information is delivered every time so they each seem fresh

This is what I came up with. Whadyathink?

Angelina Jolie

Not just one of the world’s most beautiful woman and the most famous homewreck, Angelina Jolie is an outstanding actress even winning a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for “Girl Interrupted” in 2000. She comes from good stock after all. Despite dropping the Voight at the end of her name (and then dumping Dad all together) on June 4^th, 1975 in Los Angeles, California, the Midnight Cowboy became father to the mouth that launched a thousand ships and at least as many foreign adoptions.

George Clooney

Get me a Caesar cut and a scalpel, STAT! As Dr. Doug Ross of ER (1994-2000), George Clooney finally launched into superstardom after years of failed pilots and short lived guest spots. The Lexington, Kentuky native has declared he “will never be married again”, which just makes us want him more! We even loved him all pudgy and angry in his Oscar winning “Syriana” performance. Write May 6^th, 1961 in the history books as the day Danny Ocean was born.

Chace Crawford

John Travolta (Welcome Back, Cotter), Luke Perry (90210), Chistopher Chace Crawford (Gossip Girl). Insert high pitched shrieking here. In Lubbock, Texas on July 18^th, 1985, who could have known that they were welcoming a new teenage heartthrob to the world? With the sky rocket success of the CW Smash and a slightly covert relationship with American Idol, Carrie Underwood, only time will tell if Chace goes the way of Joey Lawrence or Michael J. Fox.

James Woods

Born April 18^th, 1947 in Vernal, Utah, James Woods has made a career of talking fast and thinking faster. He made the leap to fame as a hardened cop killer in 1979’s “The Onion Field” and has been one of Hollywood’s most eccentric leading men ever since. A member of MENSA, he uses that big brain on the ladies and they swarm like bees to honey. He’s so good, rumor has it Sean Young stalked him after he dumped her.

Mischa Barton

Mischa Barton, hailing from Jolly Ol’ London, England, began her career as a lauded child actress. She was in Tony Kushner’s acclaimed “Slavs!” at the age of 9 (born: Jan 24^th, 1986), “The Sixth Sense” at age 13 and became a star as “The O.C.’s” Marissa Cooper at 17. Since the show was cancelled last year, her major claim to fame is being a member of the growing Hollywood Starlet DUI Club and repeatedly getting caught smoking a joint while driving.

Sofia Coppola
Born into fame on May 14^th, 1971 in NYC, NY, when Sofia Coppola took over for Winona Ryder in “Godfather 3” she was promptly awarded a 1991 Razzie-Worst New Star/Worst Supporting Actress. But she returned triumphantly in 1999, directing “The Virgin Suicides”, then winning a 2004 Oscar for best original screenplay (“Lost in Translation”) giving her the dubious honor of one of the few people to win both an Oscar and a Razzie.

Nicole Richie

Chubby Paris Hilton tag-a-long loses the weight and makes good. Nicole Camille Escovedo was born on September 21^st, 1981 in Berkeley, California but was adopted by Lionel Ritchie in 1990 and that’s where the trouble began. “The Simple Life” made her known, her weight loss made her famous, her feud and reconciliation with Paris made her ultra-famous and now we’re waiting to see if she’ll turn into a heroin addict again or if she can actually raise a child (look out, Britney #2).

Brittany Murphy
Maybe it’s Brittany Murphy’s Atlanta, Gerogia roots and her character on “King of the Hill”. Maybe it’s the fading memory of her endearing breakout role in “Clueless”. Maybe it’s because she shares a November 10^th birthday with Warren G, Sinbad, and Eve (though she was born in 1977) but after all the Ashton Kutcher hi-jinks, plastic surgery denials (yeah, right), two failed engagements and a marriage to gross, shady “screenwriter”, Simon Monjack, who people call “Con-Jack”, something keeps her famous.

Sophia Bush

Sophia Bush was a Tournament of Roses Parade Queen in her hometown of Pasadena, California in 2000, three years before “One Tree Hill” made her a household name and six years before she filed for divorce from her costar, Chad Michael Murray, after only five months of marriage, citing “fraud”. Born July 8^th, 1982, Sophia is five years and three months older than the 18 year old Chad moved on to. Burn!

Tyson Beckford

Forget a tree grows in Brooklyn, a fine ass man was born in the Bronx on December 19^th, 1970! Tyson Beckford was first spotted playing in a New York City park in 1991. By 1993, he’d been named The Face of Polo by Ralph Lauren. He’s been one of the world’s top male models ever since. If you need a weekly dose, he’s currently hosting “Make Me a SuperModel” on Bravo, the perfect reminder that models are meant to be seen and not heard.

50 Cent

Get rich or die tryin'? Curtis James Jackson III will take get rich for $440 Million, Alex. In Jamaica, Queens on July 6^th, 1975, the man we’ve come to know and love as 50 Cent was born. Arguably one of the most famous victims in music history (and the second richest rapper behind Jay-Z), he was shot nine times, caught a sales beat down by Kayne West and has lost all 13 times he’s been nominated for a Grammy. But he did teach the world the correct ghetto pronunciation of “Fifty” (it’s fiddy).

Abigail Breslin

Abigail Breslin is the anti-Dakota Fanning. They’re both disarmingly talented but Abigail lacks Dakota’s bizarre, robotic perfection and we adore her for that. We needed a “Little Miss Sunshine” with accessible normalcy and a total lack of self consciousness when busting moves to Rick James. She already had an Oscar nomination by age ten, let’s keep our fingers crossed and see how the little charmer from New York City who was born April 14^th, 1996 fares puberty.

Adam Brody

We wish high school dorks came as cute as Seth Cohen on “The OC”. Maybe it’s only the ones who grew up in San Diego, born on December 15^th, 1979. Oh, Adam Brody what happened? You seemed poised for a major breakout post-OC but, so far, your ex, Rachel Bilson, who jumped (pardon the pun) to Hayden Christensen, carries the title. We want more of your dry, sardonic humor and a reminder of why comic book loving half-Jews are hot. Perhaps if you get cast as The Flash we can fall in love all over again.

Adam Carolla

We can thank the brilliant mind of Philadelphia’s own, Adam Carolla for introducing the world to Juggies; hot, stacked girls who hand out chilled mugs of beer and bounce on trampolines. We listened to him answer questions about masturbation and STDs for years on LoveLine and can always depend on his big toothy mouth to tell it like it is. Crank Yankers was his brainchild. He was born May 27^th, 1964 to a sex therapist mom and psychologist dad. How else was he expected to turn out?

Adam Sandler

If we could write a song about September 9^th, 1966 in Brooklyn, New York, when a little comic genius was born, we would. And then we’d have Opera Man sing it. Adam Sandler was integral to some of the best years of SNL and has a string of films that surged way beyond the $100 Million mark, paving the way for Will Ferrell and proving SNL-ers can dominate weekdays too! Plus, he provided the holiday anthem, “The Chanukah Song”. Not too shabby!

Adrian Grenier

Vinnie Chase of HBO's Entourage has the best life ever! How does he manage that when he seems to be constantly screwing up his career, hemorrhaging money and being a pretty crappy actor? Mischa Barton and Jesse Metcalf do it, so I guess it makes sense. As a matter of fact, so does Mr. Vinnie Chase himself, Adrien Grenier. When not acting, the New Mexico native can usually be found making out with a hot chick. Mystifying. Haven't they seen those paparazzi shots of him jogging (shudder, shudder, gag). Maybe his birthday, July 10^th, 1976, is lucky.

Adriana Lima

A lot of Brazilians are hot but Adriana Lima, hailing from Salvador, Bahia, Brazil and born June 12^th, 1981, is smoking, en fuego, extra-dynamo hot! Any man between the ages of 13 and 80 needs "alone time" after the mere mention of her name. Maybelline and Victoria's Secret have been her bread and butter for years but, after her Superbowl commercial, maybe Kleenex should make her their official spokesmodel. Ohhh, did we forget to mention, she claims to still be a virgin. Gadzooks!

Adrien Brody

What was more memorable: Adrien Brody’s stunning performance in "The Pianist" or the moment he swept Halle Berry into his arms for a wet one upon winning the 2002 Oscar for that role? He began his career carving intricately crafted characters in films like
“Summer of Sam”, set in 1977 New York, his hometown just four years after he was born on April 14^th, 1973. Post-Oscar, despite a few films, like “King Kong” and “Hollywoodland”, his mainly been a fixture on the party scene. We anxiously await his next great turn somewhere besides a red carpet.

Al Pacino

When people talk about the greatest actors of all time, Al Pacino is always on the list. Born April 25th, 1940 in the South Bronx, New York, he has turned in some of the most memorable performances of all time including his roles in “Dog Day Afternoon”, “Serpico”, “The Godfather” and “Scarface”. With eight Oscar nominations and one win (Scent of a Woman, 1992), no one does it like Al. He is truly one for the history books. Whoo-ah!

Alec Baldwin

Apparently no one remembers when kids got spanked and didn't talk back to their parents. We do, and we'd take our dad calling us an "ungrateful pig" over getting wacked on the ass and grounded. Alec Baldwin (nee Alexander Rae Baldwin, April 3^rd, 1958, Massapequa, NY) is a comic genius, a smoldering leading man, a Golden Globe winner, an Emmy and Oscar-nominee with a bad rap. People love a scandal and between his messy divorce from Kim Basinger and the "leaked" voicemail, Alec serves it up on a platter but five minutes watching Jack Donaghy on “30 Rock” and all you can remember is how brilliant this man is.

Alessandra Ambrosio

Alessandra Ambrosio was born in the small Brazilian town of Erechim on April 11^th, 1981. Trying to prove that models aren’t born perfect, she’s been extremely vocal about having plastic surgery to pin her ears back, the complications that arose from the surgery and why plastic surgery is bad. Honey, you’re stunning, shut up! Let the ugly fatties have whatever surgery they want and need and you keep being a Victoria’s Secret Angel. Currently knocked up, she continues to model in lingerie and bikinis. Ewwwww!

Ali Larter

Who can forget the Whipped Cream bikini scene in Varsity Blues? Who would want to? Model turned teen sensation turned “Heroes” star, Ali Larter is giving Jersey girls a good name (she was born Alison Elizabeth Larter in Cherry Hill, NJ on February 28^th, 1976) by portraying the world’s most famous schizophrenic, Niki/Jessica Sanders. So…when will Niki be rocking that whipped cream bikini? We’re just asking. Please don’t tear up in two!

Alicia Keys

Alicia J. Augello-Cook just didn’t have the right ring to it so the piano prodigy since age seven, born in New York City on January 25^th, 1980 (or 1981 depending on which rumor you like), changed it to Alicia Keys and has been making history ever since. She burst onto the scene with her 2001 album, Songs in A Minor, selling six million copies and winning five Grammys (she’s won 16 in total to date). The Proactiv model and rumored paramour of Common even sang her ass off while Kid Rock and Tommy Lee duked it out for the love of Pam.

Alicia Silverstone

As if! Alicia Silverstone was born on at 3:44pm PDT on October 4, 1976, in San Francisco, California. First she was our "Crush" then she made us "Crazy" for Aerosmith (best music video trilogy EVER!!!) but soon she was "Fat Girl" in the worst of the Batman movies. There was no one more quoted or coveted than Cher from 1995’s “Clueless” but she’s slowly drifted out of sight. A devote vegan and owner of the most downtrodden lips on earth, if nothing else, her weight fluctuations keep us interested.

Alyson Hannigan

Who wouldn't be famous after announcing, "One time, at band camp, I stuck a flute in my...” oh, you know where that bad boy went! Star of “American Pie”, “Buffy”, and “How I met Your Mother”, Alyson (who randomly changed her name from Allison) Hannigan knows how to build a cult following. Born in Washington, DC on March 24^th, 1974, she is also one of the few “American Pie” kids to avoid scandal and continue to work consistently. Tara Reid, Natasha Lyonne, Thomas Ian Nicholas (who?) can we say the same for you?

Amanda Bynes

Amanda Bynes was born April 3^rd, 1986 and raised in Thousand Oaks, California, just a few miles from the sound stages she’d be dominating by age ten on “All That”. She was headlining “The Amanda Show” by age 13 and, by 16, she was carrying “What I Like About You”. An undeniable sensation, she’s dodged the typical child star dysfunction bullet coming across as incredibly grounded, normal and humble, even signing a five year deal to design “Dear”, her affordable collection for Steve and Barry’s. When she says she doesn’t drink and isn’t hitting the clubs, we actually believe her and see her sailing into adulthood with great success. She is the man!

Amanda Peet

Amanda Peet is one of those rare cases where her beauty seems to have worked against her. One of the most underrated actresses of her generation, the New York City native has worked consistently through her twenties (she’s now 36, born January 11^th, 1972) but her biggest claim to fame might be her co-starring role with Ashton Kutcher in "A Lot Like Love" or her supporting role as Matt Damon’s wife in “Syriana”. That was, until she got cast in the X-Files Sequel. After that, she needs to tell “Troy” and “25th Hour” super-scribe, David Benioff, her husband and baby daddy, to write her a plum role!

Omarosa

The Original Reality TV Bitch, Omarosa Manigault-Stallworth trumped Trump's self promotion with her own during the premiere season of “The Apprentice”. A small town girl from Youngstown, Ohio, she was born just after Valentine’s Day, February 15^th, 1974, and she’s been fighting for love and attention ever since. Having eecked everything she can out of her 15 minutes (she's turned it into at least 45) she continues to show up all over reality TV, including coming back for "Celebrity Apprentice". Who the hell thinks she's a celebrity besides herself? Tick tock, tick tock…time’s almost up.

America Ferrera

Proving "Real Women Have Curves" and that Ugly is the new pretty, America Ferrera has made a name for herself by championing Hispanics, ugly ducklings not quite to the swan stage, chubby chicks, and those of us who love a rockin' poncho and won't be made to feel bad about it! The youngest of six kids, born April 14^th, 1984 in Los Angeles, California, her “Ugly Betty” won the 2007 SAG, Golden Globe and Emmy Award. She looks like she's losing a little weight but we love her anyway.

Amy Adams

Born August 20^th, 1974 in Aviano, Pordenone, Italy and raised in Castle Rock, Colorado, Amy Adams was one of seven children. It seems fitting that she’s a former Hooters hostess who left when she turned 18 and they wanted her to start wearing the customary outfit. She’s apple pie, cotton candy and Grace Kelly all in one. From "Drop Dead Gorgeous" to her Oscar nominated 2006 role in "Junebug", her genuine innocence and charm pours over you. Watching her sing "Happy Working Song" live at the 2008 Oscars, pure and honest and irony-less, you could practically hear her cell phone ringing with job offers. She's the human mint julep: delightful and refreshing.