Lisa and I got accosted by a Hasidic woman after we chastised a rabbi looking-fellow to ‘pick up after his dog.’ This Hassidic woman with him, I will refer to as “Suri Cruise” because they all get their wigs modeled after that beautiful little girl’s haircut. It was the weirdest thing. From the back she looked like a full-grown Suri Cruise then when she turned around she looked like Bette Davis from the classic  “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane.”

“Vhat, he lose his key?”

“No, he didn’t pick up after his dog, and if the rangers see dog poop we lose the right to use this dog park,” stated Lisa in her impressive, matter of fact way.

“It’s not our responsibilities to teach da men how to behave,” Suri went on.

“Yea it is,” I said.

One thing led to another and she noticed my ring finger was empty.

“Why you not married? Vhy not?” ”Vhy you not married?”

“I’m not married by choice.”

“Veally by choice?”

“Yes I’ve created my life, It’s exactly the way I envisioned it.”  

Didn’t feel necessary to indicate that not everything on my vision board has come to fruition. Occasional familial psycho dramas pop up and throw me off course.

“Veally, you chose to be single? You vit voman?”

Suri was really pissing me off. I had no idea why she was coming after me. I wanted to kick her ass, follow her home and set a bag of dog poop on fire on her front stoop.

The rage appears FYI as a two headed greek-tragedy  monster superimposed with my parents heads screaming at me in unison.

Bullied no more!  20 plus years of therapy finally kicks in.

“Yes, by fucking choice, you know why? I’ll tell you why, I like to have my natural god given hair flowing freely from my head for all of mankind to see. Why’s up with the shitty wig, sister?”

She backed down. Lisa was impressed.  “Your peeps, you deal. I have a goyisha cup nose,” She said.

“SO DO I!”

When will the world stop lumping us together like a crab cake?

Got to dash to LAX.  My friend Beth Bender www.beautystylewatch.com the makeup artist, and 1/2 the duo of the “Bender Sisters,” offers to drive me to LAX which is so sweet considering we’re not sleeping together.

I rarely pick anyone up from LAX. Not even my current beau.

Get to Virgin America terminal. My favorite airline in the world!  Packed with Hassidim. Great. Another altercation.  One guy looks like he’s about to break out into “Da Papa..Da Papa!!!”

Talk about free association or too much pot smoking.  Anytime I see an Amish or Hassidic Jew it reminds me of an experiment we did in 2nd grade.  The lesson was photosynthesis, how plants make energy from the sunlight.  One grew in direct sunlight on the window sill, the other grew under the sink sans gamma rays.

The plant grown on the window sill was robust and healthy looking. The plant grown under the sink looked translucent and waxy. That’s what Amish and Hassidic people look like to me. Translucent limabeans. 

Get on plane. It’s packed. Shit, the middle seat is full. A prepubescent 13 yr old Indian boy ( how do I  know? I met his parents in the airport and commented on their adorable son. During the course of the conversation I asked if they were Spanish and they said no followed by ‘namaste”) is sitting in the middle. His parents are 5 rows behind.

I take my Sudafed and pass out. My shirt, unbeknownst to me, pops open during takeoff.

I’m wearing a low cut t-shirt and new bra (a size bigger) so my boobs look huge.

Upon takeoff my shirt flies open and the only way I found this out was because little Slumdog Millionaire was a lefty and he and his elbow kept jabbing me in the ribs every time he ‘choked the chicken.”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!!!!”

“I have an itch.”

“NO you don’t. In this country it’s not appropriate to do that in public.” 

I was so startled but I didn’t want to scar the kid into hating loud big boobed Jewish chicks.

“It’s ok to touch yourself looking at women’s boobs, but not in public ok? If you want to, go finish in the bathroom, ok? Do you want to go to the bathroom?”

“Yes ma’am.”

I never have alcohol on planes, but boy did I need a cocktail!!!!!

Wasn’t there a mailbox there just yesterday?” I said to myself. Is it time to put the one hitter down?
“Wasn’t there a mailbox on the corner of LaBrea and Franklin?” “They stole the mailbox from Gardner and Hollywood too? WTF” I cursed. Seriously, who would steal a mailbox?  This blows because mailing a letter in LA can take a whole day. Obvious mailbox placement is not of this culture.  Some apartment buildings with tenant mailboxes don’t have outgoing slots, that’s crazy.  

Furthermore, mailboxes are disappearing all over Los Angeles.  According to urban legend, if a mailbox doesn’t receive over a certain number of letters, it costs the city money. Really?

How bad is it going to get? “Is the post office going out of business too? Aren’t they entitled to a federal bailout?”

The mail pushing west was the beginning of our country’s expansion.  However, due to my fondness for Marijuana,  I tend to have a crappy memory – I remember certain things, then forget others.  In fact I remember what I ate for lunch yesterday but have no idea who I ate with. Crickey. Hate to admit that.  Yep still focused on the food.  Oy.

My attempt to recall specific dates of American History will fail.  The only things I remember are the following: “Lewis & Clark’s Expedition,” “Sackajewweiner,” (a hilarious kosher sex movie), and “Bonnie & Clyde.”  I know one was in the 1700’s, one in the 30’s and the other at Susan Stern’s 9th grade slumber party…

Bottom line, getting rid of the mailman would be a crime against society. It’s part of history.

On to happier notes:

Because I can’t find a mailbox to post my bills, I forget to mail them and find out the hard way that my account is past due as I attempt to pay for new bras on my Bloomies credit card.
“I love these bras,” I say to Unique, the awesome Bloomingdales salesgirl, who fitted me with my new 36 DD Calvin Klein bras.
“It’s Calvin’s first foray into designing bras for a full figured woman,” opines Unique. “Your account is past due.”
”Oh damn, I forgot to mail my bills because I couldn’t find a mailbox!” I quipped.  ”Oh, you too? I can never find a mailbox either, they don’t even have an outgoing one in the mailroom here!” said Unique. “I have to have these bras! I love them! By the way, first foray into designing for a fuller woman? Figures he always fancied boys.” I teased Unique.

The thought of going up a size in bra freaks me out.  I’ve put on about 10lbs since breaking up with my boyfriend and my “funbags” have turned into “tonbags.”


Success!  I got two bras for 30% off, my friend Jennifer (also a publicist) wasn’t as successful, so we decided to pop over to the shoe department.  I spied a pair of sandals that screamed, “I want you on top of me. You’re delicious. Get on me now.”  Said the voice emanating from the shoes, which sounded distinctly Aussie male.

I circled the display table not wanting to appear so desperate. I picked up the shoes that sparked desire the moment the heel hit my hand.  “Jen have you ever heard of this designer?  Pour La Victorie?”

“They are so high,” said Jen.
”They are deceiving though because of the platform, see?” says Michael, our incredibly astute salesman. “What size? Do you want whiskey or blanca?

“Can you bring me an eight and an eight and a half? Had Margaritas and chips last night. So bloated.”

Oh I wish I could shut up and not over explain myself!

“Be right back!”
 He was so right. The most perfect shoes a woman should buy themselves after breaking up with her boyfriend. “I look so fierce right?”  


A fellow sista and her blond mother (I love Black women who have the balls to go blond!) walk up to the table and eye the shoes that I’m holding. 

“Look I don’t work here and I’m not hitting on you, but you would rock these,” I say to this woman who could either be Vivica A. Fox or a woman who was conjuring up her black ‘Betty Page.’

“You got a good eye. Thank you. I will try them on. They are fine!” She sassily states, followed by,
“you should try on a pair.”

“No I just got paid, I’m flying to New York tomorrow and I can’t go hog wild. However I just broke up with my beau and still trying to wake up my inner goddess.” I blather on.

“Girl. you get these shoes and wear them to the airport.  You have to walk real slow, let everyone know you are from Los Angeles, take your time and twirl around and make sure every man notices you.”

The camaraderie began.

“Get out. I’m in a bigger bra, my Levis with extra spandex, and I always travel with carry-on,” I tell her like we’ve been hanging for years.

“Girl, then this is the time to own your power. No man is worth you feeling bad about yourself. Sheet girl, buy the damn shoes!”

“I don’t know. I’m always running late for the plane.”

“You’re Jewish right?“

“Yea, why?”

Because you people always talk yourself out of stuff! “Girl dump that negative energy and get on with living, starting with these shoes,” said beautiful Black Betty Page.

“Jen I’m getting them.”

“Can you walk in them?”

“I’m going to start right now.”

During the day I work as a publicist promoting everything from Tina Turner, vaginal lubrication, UPTOWN Magazine, Chrysler, and my ex douche of a boyfriend, The CEO of a company that rhymes with Monco.  Why is he a douche?  Well he sent a postdated check but wanted me to start working immediately.  Need I say anymore?   Times are tough; Mama’s got to eat. 

In addition to my publicist hat, I’m also a stand up comic and can now add “inventor’ to my list of credits.  So I’m now Stand Up Comic/Actress/Publicist/Inventor.  I’ve developed a new product with Jackie Saril and Karen Mizrahi, two fierce biatches who rock their Louboutins while I do just fine in my Franco Sartos!

Just for shits and giggles, I’m a firm believer in ‘more bang for your buck’ and discovered there’s a Web site that sells discounted Louboutins!  www.christianlouboutindiscount.com. How cool is that? Jackie still thinks the shoes listed are counterfeits.

I first started working with Jackie & Karen on a launch of a new website www.celebrifantasy.com.  Jackie and Karen, the brains and boobs behind Squeakywheel Promotions, came up with hiring lookalikes of Eliot ”Ness” Spitzer, former Governor of New York, Amy Winehouse– before she lost a tooth– Paris Hilton and Britney Spears.  It was Genius. We had the four of them running all over New York City trailed by the TV cameras from Good Day New York, NY1 and CW11. Getting anything on TV is a huge success!

Success breeds success. We were on a roll.  One night, the three of us were out celebrating and I had three vodka sodas / three LIMES too many.  I staggered into the bathroom and my blackberry fell out of my bra into the toilet.  I couldn’t leave it in the bowl because it had my entire life in it.   I don’t know if you have ever dropped a phone in the john but the thought of fishing it out with my hand, washing the phone, and washing my hands over and over and over again, nearly caused this first class germaphobe to have a grand mal panic attack.

I returned to the table completely grossed out and Jackie asked what happened.  They both laughed at me (which is the role I fill for many) and said, “Your minimizer couldn’t hold your blackberry? It holds everything else.  You need a bra pocket!”

The three of started working, hanging, chatting, texting, and discovering that we all love to buy shit from television. Sham Wow, Pediegg (doesn’t work), Snuggies (feels like a used airplane blanket that doesn’t stay on) and the body shaper that holds you so tight you have gas for days, were all purchases. 

The next day after sobering up, Jackie said, “I was thinking about what happened to Marla’s Blackberry last night. Why don’t we develop something to sell since that’s what we do?”  “Well we should start with a bra pocket for Marl since she refuses to carry her purse to the loo!” chimed Karen. 

We put our collective brainpower together and birthed from our creative loins www.theracktrap.com. The Racktrap, if you must know, is an undetectable personal bra pocket that holds everyday essentials including license, cash and credit cards conveniently in your bra.  “It gives women the freedom to go purseless.”  Love that line.

Despite dire economic prognostications from every television pundit, the two fierce ‘Stella Stunnings” and I were full speed ahead on www.theracktrap.com.  When it was ready I pitched it to the Today Show and lo and behold it was on The Today Show with Kathie Lee and Hoda!

For any publicist, landing anything on The Today Show is like getting a lifetime free pass to shop at Louboutin. For this publicist, getting a lifetime pass to Marshalls would have the same effect!  I love it when my diva girlfriends say somewhat incredulously, “Hey Marl, love that dress. Where did you get it?” 

“Marshalls.”  That’s usually when they change the subject.   No matter how much money I make, don’t think I’ll ever get over the thrill of finding Donna Karen Couture at Marshalls for 50% off an already marked down price of $75!