By Gustavo Arellano
By R. Scott Moxley
By Alfonso Delgado
By Courtney Hamilton
By Joel Beers
By Peter Maguire
By Charles Lam
By Charles Lam
Photo by OCW StaffIs there anything more incisive, insightful and with-it than the county's premier business-lifestyle magazine, the OC Metro? I say, "No!" From its indispensable Movers & Shakers column, which details the triumphs of Orange County's innumerable public-relations folk and CFOs, to its gentle Women's Business department, which usually focuses on how to get rid of stress, or as I like to call it, "The Silent Killer," the Metro provides indispensable nuggets of business-ness and stuff. Mostly stuff.
Of course, the greatest OC Metro feature—by far!—is its annual Hot 25 People of Orange County. What do they do to deserve the designation? I have no idea. I have ferociously lobbied for years to have bestowed on me the flame of Metro Hot. And how have the wise people at the Metro reacted? They have scoffed! I can't even make the Twenty in Their 20s issue—and they've got exactly three months left before that choo-choo leaves town forever. Sad, old me.
But never mind all of that! Although I may not be Hot, I know people who are! And one Miss Linda Jemison has finally been anointed Hot by the Metro peeps—oddly, though, only after she sold Linda's Doll Hut, the bar that made her a countywide star. And Miss Linda invited me to be her mom's date at the OC Metro Hot 25 Awards Dinner on Nov. 7! And her mom, Pearl Jemison-Smith, who was one of this year's 31 Scariest People as chosen by this here rag (she was scary in a good way), said shocking things to me in her cultured British accent—things I won't repeat here, but had to do with "fruit" and "nipples"!
But then a weird thing happened (I mean weirder than sweet and lovely Pearl Jemison-Smith saying "nipples"). Though I had come to Scott's Seafood for the awards dinner with a not-terribly subtle agenda of Grinching their fun and pointing my hip little finger as I laughed and laughed, it was really a lovely affair, full of warm, friendly Metro advertisers and a warm, friendly staff. In fact, it was quite the scene, with several of the Hot hitting on many, many women in a row and basically slutting on anyone in spitting distance. I love that!
Oh, and OC Sheriff Mike Carona was there, and you just know that bald spot is a solar panel for a love machine!
Every woman in the room made eyes at him as plaques were handed to the Hot 25, and when Carona's name was announced, several women gave him a standing O. No, not that. An ovation.
In fact, though there were typical "business" awardees, the Metro was surprisingly funky and multicultural, with the Hot including Angel Garrett Anderson (in absentia), Anne Shih from the Bowers Museum of Cultural Art, world's greatest freethrow shooter Dr. Tom Amberry (sexy and 80), Rabbi Arnold Rachlis, the Swinging Sanchez Sisters(off in Washington) and Kenyan novelist Ngugi wa Thiong'o.
The only thing I can possibly make fun of—and I will, Blanche, I will!—were the presenters, introduced by their boss as two of the best journalists anywhere. Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!Anyway, editor Kevin O'Leary kept introducing people by declaiming a snippet of prose (think of the gay director in Waiting for Guffman) as though he were actually the person being introduced, i.e. "My job was to build an image and a brand for Roxy." Or, "My mom will tell you that I've always loved science." It was terribly confusing, plus I expected him at any moment to stammer out, "I'm a little teapot."
At dinner after the awards dinner (it turned out there was no awards dinner, and Pearl had to treat us all), Pearl leaned in. "Did you feel the sheriff?" she trilled.
"Feel him? Er, no," I said with disappointment.
"He is hard!" she announced. "Absolutely hard!" She nodded with satisfaction, and then whispered, "He works out!" When Carona joined our table to chat amiably and call people bigots, I'm sorry to report that Linda, Pearl and I tittered and batted our eyelashes—badly, as though we had tics—and generally acted like ninnies. I'm also ashamed to say that not once did we sniff the air around us and ask, "Does someone smell bacon?" He's one sheriff caliente!
* * *
Hey, ever sit around your room at night, smoking the weed and needing—really needing—a Magic Paint Edger, or that ratchety thing that gets in those tight-squeeze spaces, or the fabulous Hairagami? Of course you do! But you never take that As Seen on TV plunge because what if your three EZ payments of $19.99 get you a box full of crap? Well, just in time for the holiday season, we'll test out some of the juicier products the weird-haired are hawking. All products can be found at the Block at Orange's As Seen on TV store, since it's really too late to order by phone in time for Christmas anyway. Sorry about that. The first in a continuing and really superhelpful series!Solar Magic: The Power of Daylight at Night($19.99)! These two tiny, solar-powered yard lamps were supereasy to install in my lawn. They were also supereasy for the ruffians in my neighborhood to steal, so I don't know whether they worked. Euro-V: The World's First Straightening Hairbrush! This squeezy little hairbrush actually works really well, even for those who had Communists for mothers who never taught them things like how to blowdry one's hair or how to shave one's armpits. You still need your own hairdryer, though. Vibra Touch: The Electronic Personal Massager (Feel Good From Head to Toe . . . Any Time, Anywhere!)($19.99)! Yes, gutterbrain, I actually used this on my neck, though one of the several small attachments for massager that wraps right around one's pointer-finger looks curiously like a French Tickler. Addictive. Backyard Fight Clubs, Vol. 2($16.99). Yeah, um, no. Only about three minutes of footage document some methed-out homies actually kicking the gross natural product out of one another; the rest shows heartland teenagers aiming at the hallowed halls of the WWF, staging excruciating battles where they don't even actually hit one another with their chairs. These go on for upward of 15 minutes each. I was furious I'd spent $16.99 on it—and it was my editor's money!—when I could have instead learned the hottest dance steps from that guy who choreographs 'NSync.
Next week: Feel the power of The Auto Hammer!
GIRL CALIENTE! COMMIEGIRL99@HOTMAIL.COM.