Lori Stories

Today is #Siblings Day.

I have two brothers, both older. 

My oldest brother Steven is 17 years older than me. 

My other brother Jeff is 4 years older than me.

So, my childhood looked like this. 

Jeff would pick on me. I would call Steven to come home from college and beat up Jeff.  He never did.  In all fairness, he was in Boston, we lived in NJ. This is not a concept easily grasped by a 4 year old.

When Steven did come home from college, he would go out to a bar then come home late at night and eat all of my honeycomb cereal.

To this day he thinks is funny that I got all upset about the cereal.

When your 4 and you wake up for breakfast and realize that there is nothing for you to eat. It is traumatic. He didn’t even leave the toy, he also never beat up my brother Jeff.  I love my brother Steven, but seriously, WHAT A DICK.

Since we are on the topic of food, let me talk about peanut butter.

My mother told me early on that my father asked her to pick a room in the house he wanted her to be good in, and he never picked the kitchen.  Again, not a concept easily grasped by a child.  She was a terrible cook so we grew up with a lot of connivence food, Peanut Butter was big in my house.

I preferred Chunky Peanut Butter, refrigerated.  Jeff preferred creamy peanut butter, room temperature.  My mom didn’t believe in conflict so there were two jars of peanut butter in my household. 

Jeff would take the crunchy peanut butter out of the fridge and eat it. This made me crazy because every time I would go for peanut butter, the jar would be almost gone and worst yet, warm. I tried putting the creamy peanut butter in the fridge for revenge, but Jeff would eat it anyway.

Years later I went to Jeff’s apartment and noticed that he had Crunchy Peanut butter in the fridge. I was like “Jeff, are you kidding me?” He played innocent. 

“You like Crunchy Peanut Butter?” 

“YES”

“Refrigerated?”

“Everyone knows it’s better that way.”

“Then why did you torture me all those years”

“Cause I knew you wouldn’t eat creamy or warm and that way I had two jars of peanut butter.”

—- I’m sorry, but my brother Jeff is now one of my best friends, but seriously,  WHAT A DICK!

I can go on and on about how my brother called me “Darth Vader” because I had a deviated septum or how he would force me to play WWF with him and no matter what wrestler I wanted to be, he would always say

“No. You’re Brutus Beefcake” 

Never mind the time he convinced me to climb on top of the shed and then removed the ladder.

Despite the latent food issues, traumatic wrestling flashbacks and fear of sheds, my brothers are truly supportive and loving.   We all have a shared sense of humor and I hope they take this post as a bit of fun.  I consider them both high on my list of my favorite people and closest confidants.  They also share in the wackiness that is a result of being a member of our family.

Seriously, who tells a 4 year old that her father wanted his wife to be good in the bedroom?

That’s nothing, you should hear  what my father use to tell us about train travel… but that is another post.

My little Chicken Nugget turns 9

Today is my youngest nephew Isaac’s 9th birthday. To me, he will always been known as chicken nugget, cause when he was little he had this strawberry blonde hair and chubby cheeks and resembled a Mcnugget.  In honor of Chicken Nugget’s birthday I thought I would tell my favorite Isaac story.

During the holidays my family and I meet at my mom’s house in cultural stereotype Florida.  On one such holiday, we decided to go swimming in the community pool of my mom’s gated community. Isaac was about 3 and still wearing one of those flotation vests in the pool.  We were playing one of our favorite pool games ‘waterskiing’ when a teenager in a bikini came to swim.

As she walked down the ladder into the pool I noticed that she had a large tattoo on the small of her back right above her bikini bottom. Isaac must have noticed as well because he looked at me and said

“That girl has a sun on her tushie.”

I said, “Yes she does.”

he replied “DOES  SHE HAS A MOON ON HER VAGINA?”

Thank god for the flotation vest, cause I dropped the kid from laughing so hard.

Lori meets Rodger Ebert

I have a RodgerEbert Story:

My last year in Philadelphia I worked as a ticket taker at the Ritz movie theater which hosted the Philadelphia film festival.

Rodger Ebert came in for the fest and was looking in his pockets for his tickets. I nervously said, “That’s ok Mr. Ebert, you can come in.” He responded “I’ve been told my face is my passport.” To which I replied “really, mine’s my driver’s license.” He just stared in dead silence.

The next day he came back and I let him and mumbled “your face is your passport.” And he said, “what did you mean by drivers license?” and I said “I don’t know, I don’t even drive since I hydroplaned on a cat.”

- insert foot in mouth again-

Ebert walked into the theater.

One year later I was at Sundance and I saw Rodger Ebert and he was talking to someone else and he kept looking at me and stopped his conversation and said “Don’t I know you?” I said “I worked at the Philadelphia film festival.” He said “drivers license.”

I nodded and he added “what happened to that poor cat?”

Upcoming screening of Florence vs. The Machine at LA COMEDY SHORTS FEST

FACEBOOK WITH FLO 1 and 2 will screen on April 5 @ 2:30 as part of the First Film block.

http://www.lacomedyshorts.com/lacs2013/home.html This festival is my favorite. 2 Shorts I have directed have previously screened there, Cinderellis’ (which I co-wrote with Tanya Bershadsky) and Winner of the Shortie Short Competition, Traffic Signals

L.A. Comedy Shorts Film Festival & Screenplay Competition - April 4th-7th, 2013

www.lacomedyshorts.com

A four-day, non-stop celebration of comedic short films with screenings, industry panels and a red-carpet awards event.

Apparently I am going through an identity crisis

I just realized that I posted a tumble or whatever it’s called on this tumblr which links to some twitter which links to polyvore or pinterst or something like that. so the lovely outfits I put together to match a iphone case I created and am selling on zazzle were place on my story writing tumblr and corresponding accounts when it should have been where my fashiony posts go and I realized I’m pretty confused online and off. 

When I was younger I had dreamt of being a fashion designer, then in my early teens I decided I wanted to make movies.  I never threw out either dream and figured I would eventually find a  way to marry the two.  Somehow my love of art, storytelling, doodling and fashion would find a way to carve out a marvelous career for me. 

Now, I am the person people ask advice for when shopping. When someone wants the perfect gift or needs a new suit for a wedding, I am someone you call.  I am THAT GIRL,  the one that always looks put together in some unusual quirky fashion. Salespeople flirt with me , Women follow me around in shops to see if I will put down that rare gem I found among the piles of crap.  I love this aspect of my personality and have fun playing around with clothes and shoes and handbags. I love that I can see some item and come up with ways to make it myself or put things together that achieves a look that is usually reserved for girls half my size.  I love the satisfaction when I helped someone look good or when I get complemented myself. 

When I was a teenager I experimented with fashion, and I was always self conscious. In college I dressed to cover up but still had a bit of my style peeking through. In my teens and twenties however I was much more confident with the filmmaking, artist side of myself. 

I was writing regularly and I was certain that I was going to make movies in my future. I didn’t feel as vulnerable as I do now when I write or imagine realizing the goals I had set out for myself.  My style was always there rumbling underneath but never fully refined.

Now, I am very confident in my taste and my personal style but I am completely shaken to the core when it comes to making movies again.  As self conscious as I might have felt at 15 wearing those plaid doc martins with a skirt made of ties (hey, it was the 90s) that is nothing compared to the fear I have felt moving forward in my career, putting myself out there, navigating new media and new rules. 

When I feel uncomfortable, like many I retreat into the comfortable. For me that is looking online and obsessing over purses and when my creative side gets itchy, rather than scratching out something in my journal (my younger comfort zone) I look at DIY and imagine all the fashions I can sew or cobble together.   I don’t think that is a bad thing necessarily but I do think I am ignoring my inner writer.

I also don’t wake up in panic attacks at 4 in the morning thinking about the DIY I should be working on.  I do have these dreams about movies. I also get this overwhelming ache when I see something close to a vision I had or similar to my voice presented on TV or on the big screen.

I wonder though, is there a way I can marry the two. My already defined style and my yearning desire to tell stories. Or do I keep these aspects separate like 2 different twitter accounts.