It’s probably a bit naughty of me to post this, but I’m still giggling over a dinner I attended the other night. It could be just my own warped sense of humor, or maybe I just don’t get out enough lately – I’ll let you decide. Let me set the scene for you…

Back in the day with partner in crime, Amanda Kyme

Back in the day with partner in crime, Amanda Kyme

The table: cast by my old partner in crime from the London days  – Amanda Kyme, consisted of a famous English football star turned commentator and his stunning actress wife from Wales, the hilarious Scottish writer/producer husband and his equally witty mogul talent manager/producer wife, the charming celebrity photographer, a 6 foot tall dose of chic aristocracy in the form of Lady V.H., and moi – the only non-Brit among us.

The location: Soho House in West Hollywood – an English owned private club where expats and Hollywood A-Listers broker power deals over cocktails while devouring breakfast, lunch, and dinner overlooking jaw-dropping views of the city and the uber hip beautiful people. Among them a DJ d’jour whose mother used to be an acquaintance I was thrilled to pass my regards along to.

The topic of conversation (and source of my amusement): Dogs. So what was so funny? In a club full high profile people, it was none other than Duane Chapman, better known as A&E’s Dog the Bounty Hunter that caught one half of the tables’ eyes, and unwittingly proceeded to dominate the conversation for the majority of the evening. Not being a reality show aficionado I was initially uninterested in the discussion, but the fact that the show (so blatantly American) was even known my my British pals, let alone gossip worthy enough fodder to keep them engrossed for so long eventually piqued my curiosity – plus sighting (yes, I admit it –  I did make the obligatory trip to the loo to confirm it was in fact him) that  unmistakable bleach blond mullet, George Hamilton worthy tan, bikers-regalia-clad beefy man amidst  a sea of waif thin, painfully pale English fashion victims amused me greatly – it’s just that it was about the last place on earth I would have expected to clap eyes on him.

Meanwhile, the conversation on the other side of the table had turned to the untimely demise of Lady V.H’s dog. Apparently, the pooch had a heart attack, and passed in his sleep while Lady V.H. was away on holiday in St. Barts. The dog sitter who’d taken it upon himself to bury the dog before she returned, coincidentally happened to be at the club. He came to pay his respects, then scampered away as quickly as he’d appeared once she’d grilled him intensely over the details.

Dog loving...

Dog loving…

Now being a dog lover myself, I did feel sad for Lady V.H – what a shocking way to begin the New Year, and how lonely coming home to an empty house must have been when you’re used to your pup excitedly greeting you at the door. However, her insisting the dog be exhumed from his final resting place, and cremated was a bit too eccentric for the Scot (seated between us) to deal with. Not fond of discussing death over dinner,or dogs for that matter, his reaction sent me into inappropriate fits of laughter that just wouldn’t stop – tears and mascara flowing down my cheeks, gasping for air between giggles, and all. Thankfully, Lady V.H. had excused herself from the table to get a peek at the other Dog before the fits of laughter consumed me.

On the way out, some of our party stopped to say hello to some friends, and I stopped to wait for them not realizing until I glanced up that I was now practically sitting in Dog the Bounty Hunter’s lap. In fact, I was face to face with the entire family, and caught off guard  as my gaze was met by a blaze of sparkling white smiles, and a nod hello. I felt uncomfortably guilty for judging a book by it’s cover – expecting them to be a bit scary when in reality they seemed like very nice people, and yes a little ashamed of myself for having had a laugh at their expense.

Still partners in crime years later at Soho House

Still getting up to mischief together – Amanda Kyme and Julie Anne Rhodes

The Hollywood Ending: (and return of the fits of laughter) came when we piled into my car as the celebrity photographer drove off in front of us with Lady V.H. The license plate, and I swear I am NOT making this up, read “123DOG.”

What mischief have you been up to lately? Tatjana and her boyfriend have just arrived, so I will no doubt have plenty more to report soon, but in the meantime – a few of my friends – including the fabulous Alison Hay (otherwise known as my twin sister who was once married to the keyboard player from that other band, and continues to live a parallel life to mine on another continent) has kindly offered to entertain you with a few guest blog posts while I enjoy my daughter’s visit, so be sure to come back!

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  • January 8, 2013
    8:29 am

    I’m afraid I would have cracked up as well. The loss of a pet is truly sad, but there is a limit to what I would do if for some reason Molly Cat passed on the the other side of life. Having once been a florist, I’ve made up arrangements of flowers sent to grieving clients who had lost a pet. But, my limit came when clients came in to order flowers for a close family member who had passed away. These clients were extremely frugal and liked to get their money’s worth and so ordered flowers to be set on the casket, but the arrangement was to be made of silk flowers so that they could take the piece home and place it on the diningroom table. Sorry, nothing could convince me that this was okay and I tried to sway their choice to no avail. Even today I have to wonder about how this arrangement of silk blooms looked on the diningroom table and if people going past the table thought about the person who had died.

    I’ve got so many tales from my flower shop days and the insanity I encountered. Like the gentleman who passed away whilst sitting in the loo . . . Oh lordy, the stories! So, reading your post about this dinner party, I can only imagine you laughing so hard as to make the mascara run! Good times!

    • January 9, 2013
      12:00 am

      You should write a book about it Ruthee!

  • January 8, 2013
    12:51 pm

    oh. my. god. Dog the Bounty Hunter? I had one dream and one dream only about him when I was pregnant with Holly: I was in some kind of school and in burst Dog with Mrs Dog and the entire entourage and they were after my mom because she was the king pin in some kind of meth lab. My mother is in her 70s, a church goer and not a drinker let alone meth cooker. In my dream, Dog tore around looking for her, the place turned into an old fashioned grocery store and there were boxes of cereal flying, cans tumbling, and my mother was nothing but a blur as she escaped Dog. Lord… those were weird pregnancy dreams.

    Those times when you’re laughing so hard you’re crying are the best. I tend to be quite… free, shall we say… with comments when it comes to situations like this and get laughing and just can’t breathe. People’s reactions to things such as pet exhumation at times like this is enough to send anyone over the edge and I’d find it hard to keep anything close to a straight face. It seems when people are serious and you get to laughing it’s even funnier. Case in point was our neighbours earlier this year. The wife had been saving for a specific patio set but her husband (picture cousin Eddy from National Lampoons Christmas) spent it ALL on fireworks for the May holiday here. She was LIVID and a huge fight broke out in the back garden. He peeled out of the drive way and returned with a pack of two tarps. He took two huge hooks and nailed them right into the side of the house, hooked the tarps on one side and propped the other side up with a piece of wood. I stood there in disbelief wondering what my very English husband was going to say when he saw that hot ghetto mess while the wife went off again about how it wasn’t the patio set she had in mind. Cousin Eddy turned to me and said “looks ok, don’t it Rach? I got an extra one if ya like” I was about to reply “oh H*LL no” but just melted into laughter instead… He stood there, slightly confused at my reaction while his wife cursed at him again and went into the house, slamming the door which sent me off even harder. Funnier still was him lighting the fireworks off later that day… he was half in the bag and set a few of them up in the blow up pool. That didn’t end well. The one that he nailed to the fence also did not end up well. After he gave the kids of the neighbourhood a drunken lecture on not coming near the part of the garden he was lighting the fireworks off, he burned himself on his prized lighter which, to his delight, was made of camel dung.

    • January 8, 2013
      3:35 pm

      LMAO quick where is the giggle like button!!! HahahahahahhA

    • January 8, 2013
      3:40 pm

      Just love the phrase “hot ghetto mess”! Sounds like some very colourful neighbours Rachel. Not so sure I’d want them next door to me though.

    • January 9, 2013
      12:03 am

      Oh dear – now those ARE some entertaining neighbors – what did your hubby say?

      • January 9, 2013
        7:08 am

        oh he just shook his head. He gets that ‘English insulted’ where he really doesn’t say anything but his silence speaks volumes. He was the same when they asked if he had met the Queen seeing as he’s from England and all… they also asked if they celebrate Thanksgiving there… he said no… the reply was “ohh… well does that mean no Christmas either?” He assured them there was Christmas. You should hear their opinions on how Honey BooBoo is an accurate depiction of the typical American. oy vey.

  • January 10, 2013
    6:07 pm

    Well after a gut-wrenchingly awful afternoon yesterday, I was looking forward to a real belly laugh and it came, unintentionally, from my dear old Mum this evening. She has been wheelchair bound for the past 19 years following a brain aneurysm and has speech problems and other associated side effects, one being tunnel vision; needless to say the cats in her yard take full advantage of the latter and whenever she opens the back door the 3 youngest rush in in a black blur of fur and squealing – even 5 min after being fed. I called her to find out if her bins needed to be taken down the road for collection in the morning and as she opened the door to check….
    The sound effects were just hysterical: kittens bawling, Mum trying to scare them out the door with a sweeping brush and shouting the first thing that popped into her head, house dog yapping. I just couldn’t help dissolving into tear-streaked fits of laughter and could barely compose myself to answer when she came back on the line but she wasn’t much better and about 3 mins of nothing but the 2 of us laughing ensued.
    After the day we had yesterday, I reckon it was just what we needed.

  • January 11, 2013
    4:38 am

    well Julieanne you are a girl after my own heart I sure would have done the same as you love a good lol .

  • January 11, 2013
    6:22 am

    My belly laugh came last night – majorly.

    David and I were at the store running errands. We get back into his car and instead of turning left to go home, he turned right. I asked him why and he said, “I don’t know, I’m on autopilot. I didn’t realize how badly I want a mocha frappe from McDonalds.”

    So we go through the drive through, he gets his mocha frappe, and we get onto the highway to go home.

    Not 4 seconds later he says, “MOM! Why did you let me get this @#^!! I’m trying to lose weight – what’s wrong with you?!?” (David and I always joke around like this – it’s not disrespect in the slightest – he’s my buddy, lol!)

    So he rolls down his window. And while we are moving at 45 miles an hour, he throws the mocha frappe out of the window. (Yes – he looked for cars first and no I don’t condone this one bit).

    Well, the mocha frappe didn’t feel like being thrown out of the window, so it landed on his lap, on his steering wheel, on his CEILING, you name it.

    I was in tears.

    “David? What did you learn from this?”

    “McDonald’s needs to stop making mocha frappes.”

    “No, David. Not the right answer.”

    For those that don’t know – David is my soon to be 25 year old son who is a pharmacist with the sense of humor of a 12 year old. I wouldn’t change it for the world; keeps me young.

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