.

So I’m donning my ruby red slippers and jetting to Detroit to ride high atop the NBC-WDIV Wizard of Oz float in the Thanksgiving Day Parade (!!!) and to do 10 more sing-alongs for “The D”.

If you haven’t seen photos from the last 40, yes FOURTY, sing-alongs we did in Detroit in September, capturing thousands and thousands of people singing and cavorting on “The D”, check out these beautiful people NOW!

This time we’re going back and filming everyone from hundreds of Motown-born bass and guitar players – all playing at once for one THUNDEROUS “D” sound! – to Roller Derby skaters, bakers, rabbis, pom pom girls, carpenters and canines– yes, they sing too! Here, in fact, is a Miniature Pinscher soloing with me at one of the September sing-alongs:

If you happen to be in Detroit this Saturday, the 30th, please join us at an open-to-the-public sing-along at 11 AM with the All About Animals Rescue at Bob Maxie Ford, 1833 Jefferson Ave. and you can sing along with the dogs too!

So please wish me, my 12 person crew, 7 video cameras, 11 still cameras, 1 helicopter camera, 8 suitcases I’m taking for a 6 day shoot, 11 scarves and 13 beanies I’m packing in my sparkly ruby red carry-on so I don’t die of hypothermia on the float good luck as we STOMP UP THE SPIRIT in the Motor City once again!

By the way, the irony of me riding on the Wizard of Oz float has not escaped me or anyone who knows me well. I am the ONLY person in the WORLD who has never seen the movie.

Last but certainly not least, as “The D” has grown into something far more MASSIVE than I ever dreamed, your DONATIONS would be most appreciated. This is a song/record/music video/feature-length documentary about the triumph of human spirit as exhibited by the people of Detroit who never stop smiling, never look back, and who aren’t waiting for the government or any bankruptcy crap to reimagine their city. The sheer chutzpah, imagination, and belief of self there is truly INSPIRATIONAL. It’s a story for everyone, not just Detroit.

Mother’s Day has always provided supreme opportunities for kitsch. Be it flower arrangements, stuffed animal displays in front of gas stations for last minute pick-ups, or greeting cards – store bought and handmade equally qualifying – Mother’s Day is a kitsch karousel that never ceases to go round.

Almost everything I owned growing up in Detroit was thrown out when my mom passed away suddenly when I was 16 and my father remarried. Aside from a rubber doll I got for my first birthday whose head was tied on with a string and a Ben Casey bobble head with a hole in his heart, the result of me shoving a pencil through it after an unrequited love incident at 12, I had almost nothing to remind me of the sweeter life that preceded all of this. (Which is why it meant so much to me to get back into the house I grew up in a few weeks ago.)

About 20 years ago, after years of thinking these two medically deficient dolls were the only artifacts of Little Allee that remained, my brother shipped me my old steamer trunk that had been hogging a corner of his garage since I graduated college. I had always assumed it was empty but inside was a small cigar box that contained letters, post cards, hamburger recipes, and this Mother’s Day card I had made for my mom when I was God knows how old. I hope it wasn’t too old as my interpretation of the world was slightly naive.

I have no idea what country Mekoila is right above the S. Pole and I’m happy to see that I thought California was important enough to hog the entire West side of the United States. I have no idea if I actually thought that Michigan, where I drew my happy little self in, was really the east-most state or if I forgot to leave room for it when I drew this map that looks more like a cross-section of a cow with different meat cuts in it. I hope you can see the little thumb I gave Michigan for accuracy right above my left hand. And I’m happy that I took the time to draw myself in my favorite type of pleated dress in grades 2-6:

I’m the tall one in that photo with my two cousins, Sue and Marjorie Singer. And if memory serves, that’s actually a giant Mother’s Day rose tucked into my belt that I made out of a toilet paper roll and tissue paper to give to my mom a couple of years after I made this card. My mother’s name was Rose so that flower had a lot of significance in our family.

I definitely misspelled ‘You’re’ but I’m happy to see that I gave the rose much petal definition and that the leaves look like jubilant uplifted arms as it was a very happy rose and a very happy Rose that celebrated Mother’s Day that year. I did, however, completely cheese out on the poetry I included inside. I have no idea where I copied this from but I’m happy to see that I knew enough as a budding designer to carry over the rose logo.

Thankfully in my later years I progressed to the point where I didn’t need someone else’s words to express how I was feeling.

Never one to leave space empty for long, I ended the card with a picture of a present. Of course, my mom’s only present from me that year was this card but as a first grade teacher she always appreciated the effort I put into art.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there. And Happy Mother’s Day, Rose, wherever you may be now.

I was very excited when aKitschinado Michael Eli is sent me these two face scarves that his sister-in-law Diane made for me.

It’s not usually cold enough here in LA to wear something of this nature but I’m always one for something a little different that adds style and comfort to one’s life.

When Michael received the photos I sent him of me wearing Diane’s creations, he politely explained  that I was wearing the accessories wrong.  How was I supposed to breath covering my nose?!  I should have known this as my very lust for these mini scarves was inspired when I spent last Christmas under the spell of this particular hat:

But, truth be told, I breathe through my mouth.  So that little slit seemed more than appropriate to spotlight my ever-Mac Morange lips. I often do things wrong where instinct would have kicked into other people’s heads instantaneously.  Like most folks wouldn’t be 15 years into their painting career before they realized that you mix colors to get other colors. Or that you cook oatmeal rather than letting the little hard disks of oats nick your throat like  blades on an ice skating rink while throat doctor after throat doctor can’t figure out what the problem is. These kind of  predicaments are the kind of things that dump themselves on my doorstep daily. This has forced me to have more of a sense of humor about most things and not be embarrassed when someone tells me I am wearing something wrong and will most likely drop dead from lack of oxygen inhalation in mere minutes. But I’m happy to say that I am just as happy with my face scarf being worn properly as improperly!:

Though I’d probably feel better if I could put lipstick on my nose as I’d love a burst of contrasting color in the midst of all that yarn. But I’ll settle for my nose going nude and being able to enjoy the nippy air as God originally intended it to.  Thank you again, Michael and Diane!

The entertainment portion of the holidays started out on Christmas Eve day at Michael McDonald‘s and me using my iphone for photos. This is a no-no if you’re expecting recognizable lifeforms when you flip the setting so you can see what you’re shooting. The shots come out like those portraits made out of of macaroni and rice. Not the best look for the holidays but here I am with the excessively pixelated Michael and Prudence Fenton:

Jai Rodriguez was also there (and also grainy):

Then we shot across town for a Christmas Eve barbeque at Luenell‘s, pictured here with me, Prudence and Constance Tillotson. At that point my Canon Elf took over so all’s clear from here on:

The next day, Christmas, it was off to Liz Heller and John Manulis’, who I forgot to take a photo with.  Their place is THE food fest spot of the holidays. Here I am after sampling four different varieties of mac ‘n cheese with Prudence and Ed Begley Jr.:

Lynne Scott was also there,…

…as was Nancy Moonves:

Bob Garrett and Storm Lee weren’t there but were at Julie McDonald‘s, who I also forgot to shoot a photo with, the next day for her Boxing Day party. Our outfits worked so great for Christmas we dragged them into the next day with the boys:

For most of the two following days I locked myself inside and worked on my new live show. I emerged on the 29th to have dinner at Street with Tony Selznick, Storm and Prudence:

Another day of intense writing the next day and then this meeting with Richard DortonRita Maye Bland, and Storm, all of whom are working on the live show.

And then it was New Years Eve. Every year for the last eight years I’ve gone to Nancye Ferguson and Jim Burn’s party, a reliably fantastic gathering of folks in one of the greatest modern houses in the city. High up on stilts with one of those mindblowing arial views of LA like you’re looking at it out of an airplane. Here I am with Nancye, Paula Prentiss and Richard Benjamin, comedy legends I died with joy meeting for the first time:

I was as excited about my Jeremy Scott Adidas’ as I was about meeting Paula and Dick:

The shoes were way too big for me but I will never sacrifice style for practicality. So I stuffed the toes with fuzzy balls and let the wings do the talking.

I also had never met comedy superstar artist/producer Sid Krofft before. Here we are with Beverly D’Angelo and Prudence:

Diva Zappa and her tutu provided lots of New Year’s cheer. At one point she wore it as a hat.

Ian Buchanan is a fellow regular partier at Nancye and Jim’s,…

…as is Antonio Hendricks,…:

…and Richard and Candy Clark:

And then it was 2012. I started out the new year where you can usually find me if I’m not at home, Susan Feniger‘s Street:

…where Storm and I had a hangover fix of champagne and donuts:

And then it was off to Gail Zappa‘s, whose birthday it is on New Years Day, and who has had a party ever since I insisted she do so five years ago after never having a birthday party before:

This is another one of those parties that now happens like clockwork in a fantastically crazy house with great friends, food and a bagpipe player:

Michael DesBarres and Storm were there,…:

as was Jeff Stein,…:

…Nancye and Michael Patrick King,…:

Jared Lee Gosselin, who I intend to do a lot of musical damage with this year,…:

Dweezil Zappa, one of Bubbles the artist‘s earliest patrons,…:

Pamela DesBarres and Jimmy Intveld,…:

Loree Rodkin,…:

Peter Asher,…:

Sally Kellerman and Beverly,…:

…Ian and Buck Henry,…:

…Gail, who was of course at her own party, and Eric Idle.:

Eric’s feet were looking mighty sharp:

As were mine, Charles Phoenix‘s and a token one of Prudence’s:

Here’s our top portions. Notice how much New Year’s food is stuck to my teeth:

In addition to the spotted teeth, I should call attention to the fact that I know that most of my poses and camera angles are identical. At festivities such as these, the last thing you wanna do is to continually ask someone to take a photo for you. So I’ve just learned to stretch my arm as long as possible and hit the button myself. I’m happy to do this as long as I have good friends to aim at. Which is what I hope 2012 is filled with. And clean teeth, of course.

I’m blessed enough that to ring in the new year I’ve gone to at least four parties a day for the last couple of days with two more to go today. I just woke up and am racing out the door to New Years Day party #1 at Street, the restaurant I co-own and die for, where there are free homemade donuts and bottomless champagne til 3. So I will resume full-on posting here tomorrow or I’ll miss the dough-filled festivities. For now though, I leave you with two of my favorite things from last night – accessories to my chosen New Years outfit and the comedy icons I got to ring 2012 in with. First, the crowning touch of my wardrobe, a shoey salute to kitsch, these Jeremy Scott Addidas sneakers:

Transparent and way too big for me I stuffed the toes with fuzzy balls. There’s no way I’m going to let size stop me when I see a pair of shoes I like.

I’ve never had shoes with wings before.

My Michael Jackson as sphinx pendant wasn’t bad either:

And how completely dying were my shoes, pendant and I to get to spend New Years Eve with Banana Splits, H.R Pufnstuff, Donny and Marie Show kitsch-God-creator Sid Krofft, seen here with meBeverly D’Angelo and Snappy P.

And how much have I died for Richard Benjamin and Paula Prentiss through the decades?!  Here we are with party hostess, Nancye Ferguson.

To make it a 60’s/70’s comedic love fest, Buck Henry was also there but I forgot to snap a pic. I’m seeing him later today at party #2 and will rectify the situation. In the meantime, here we are a couple of New Years ago:

Ok, gotta split and ring in the New Year with donuts and champagne at Street. Many, many, many more photos to follow from the years end/beginning activites later this week. In the meantime, a very sunny and pleasant 2012 to all and may it be stuffed with exquisite kitsch!!

 

Anyone who knows me knows that despite writing songs that have sold over 50 million copies and being obsessed with music since I can remember I rarely go to concerts. I hate waiting in line, being trapped in a row once you sit down, being blocked by someone’s head or worse yet dancing body, and I certainly don’t want to hear someone in my immediate proximity singing along who I didn’t pop down multiple clams to see. So it’s a really rare occurrence to get me to actually go out and see something. But I’ve been working with Storm Lee…

…he ex of X-Factor and very currently one of the amazing singers on Glee, so I knew I had to haul my ass out to this concert.

What an unbelievable night!! Organized by Storm as a fundraiser for St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital, all of the behind-the-scenes Glee singers sang their favorite Christmas carols or holiday oriented songs. Although I wish they sang selections from this album…

…or maybe this one…

… – oooh, that makes me hungry – though not as hungry as this one…

… the Glee singers’ killer voices, all unique from each other, made for quite a gift from Santa!

It was a night of complete joy, and even included a special appearance by Glee cast member, Amber Riley.

And unbeknownst to me, the keyboard  player/leader of the band was Chris Price, who worked with me on my first appearance in 37 years as well as my Soup to Nuts Party Mix show a couple of months ago.

No rest for the weary, bright and early the next morning, a Sunday no less, Storm and I went to work on my new show, a newly realized iteration of the technologically-train-wrecked Soup to Nuts.

We were very much in the holiday spirt and full of GLEE.

 

Bright and early the weekend before Thanksgiving Prudence Fenton and I hopped in the mustache van and drove up the coast to San Luis Obispo.

If you’ve never been to The Madonna Inn there, drive, fly, walk, bike, whatever mode of transportation it takes, and go there NOW!

I don’t care where you’ve been to see your architectural kitsch, this is one stop shopping of infinitesimal magnitude. I’ve blogged about this place many a time before but one post, even a hundred, could never cover the staggering detail present on the 2200 acres that appear mirage-like on the side of the 101 freeway.

The whole place was designed by this guy

…. for this lady:

Alex Madonna, a construction magnate and entrepreneur who among other things built the section of the 101 the Inn sits next to, built this palace in 1958. These portraits of Alex and his wife Phyllis’ hang right outside the main dining room.

You need a closer look at that mother of all grape lamps in between them. Eight feet of barrel and the most magnificent assemblage of resin grape clusters anywhere:

This hangs right across the cave from this stairway, one of the subtler ones at The Madonna Inn:

Every time I drive up north taking the 101, I stop at The Madonna Inn to eat. Usually I’m in a hurry and just have time to hit the coffee shop. By the way, coffee always tastes better when the sugar is in one of these two forms, available only here:

The pink crystals and rock formations look especially good on the all copper counter and tabletops…

…which are surrounded by all copper decorative trim…

…which makes sense as this is the name of the coffee shop:

But if I’m not in a hurry to get where I’m going I try to park myself in the main dining room, The Gold Rush Steakhouse. I think you can see why:

Here’s another reason:

That’s one big ol’ slab o’ beef! As an animal lover I  don’t like to think about this but the beef is grown mere feet from the restaurant.  Here I am posing at midnight with the subject of my meal:

I always love a restaurant that starts you off with a relish plate:

Far from the usual celery and carrots and olives, this one has salami and a big brick of cheese thrown on top.  Also thrown in for my birthday festivities was Nancye Ferguson, who drove up to join us.

When it’s your birthday at the Madonna Inn your table is marked with a balloon:

Tables with balloons get free cake for dessert:

I had seen the 9″ high pink champagne cakes in the coffeeshop earlier…

So I got a big hunk of it:

Cake always tastes better when it matches the decor.

It’s even better when the decor is decorated for Christmas.

At this time of year, any place there’s room to stick a Christmas tree at The Madonna Inn there is one:

Angles guard over every table:

Some of the most famous rooms at the Madonna Inn are the bathrooms. The most famous is the men’s room. I finally got the balls to sneak in with Jim Burns, a.k.a. Sgt. Frank Woods in Call Of Duty-Black Ops, who also joined us.

Although the giant clam shell sinks are fantastic…

…the legendary waterfall urinal is the main attraction:

Though sans waterfall, the ladies room next door has its own unique charm:

In another bathroom off of the coffeeshop, little girls get their props.  You can’t tell the scale from this photo but the toilet is teeny tiny tot sized…

…and matches the mini little girl sink in the middle of the big gal facilities:

All of this pales next to the bathroom in The Madonna Suite, where I tended to the needs of my roast-beef-sugared-champagne-caked body.

Here’s a little closer look at the sink, though it’s hard to see detail amidst all the rock. Water trickles down all the troughs dug out of the rock.

A full tour of The Madonna Suite tomorrow…

LAX last Friday morning, with people leaving for 4th of July, was like D-Day at the stockyards. My whole morning had been like that. Snappy P and I were flying to Chicago to go to friends’ wedding in Kenosha, WI. We figured we’d beat the holiday traffic and take an early flight, but by 7am. the pigs were chomping full force at the trough. I’ve never traveled on prime getaway day for  a holiday before in my life and now I know why.

The ten trillion people at the airport weren’t the worst of the problem. I woke up with a headache and was nauseous when my alarm rang at 5 am. That’s usually right about when I finally fall asleep. The peanut butter sandwich Snappy P gave me once the car picked both of us up didn’t help. She’s a health nut and used almond butter and sprinkled unsalted peanuts on top.  I’m a junk nut and if it’s not Skippy, the blasphemy of a healthy brand makes me ill.

A blurry shot I know but trust me, it’s more appetizing that way. Equally unappetizing and all too familiar, most of my Apple devices were suffering serious ailments. I’m on my third iPhone. When the battery decides to enter old age the declne is fast. I have an older one for backup that can only be used when plugged in because on its own the life sucks out of it in about four minutes. My newer iPhone 4 is already showing signs of Dementia. All made worse because American Airlines has evidently not heard that most people have mobile devices these days. There were only four plugs in a seating area that was a half a block long, and those had been permanently plugged up. I watched at least ten people screw up their electrical cords trying to jam them in the sockets. There was thankfully one Samsung charging station per gate. But that means six outlets for hundreds of people. I had to wander six gates down to find a plug and then the seating wasn’t optimum:

Once plugged in, I got an email from the bride-to-be that said there had been a windstorm in Kenosha the night before and most of the town’s power was still gone. So there was no way I could leave my “seat” as my phones, computer, and two ipads needed to be as charged as much as possible for the weather conditions we were about to enter. However, leave the terrazzo I was forced to do because there were constant gate changes. By the time the airline settled on gate 45, where we had originally started, it added an hour onto the departure time. Although I wasn’t to arrive there for another five hours, here’s what conditions were like all over Kenosha:

Once on American flight 1196, the 200+ passengers went even more nuts because the overhead compartments were the size of hatboxes. So unless you were only traveling with your Burger King bag, even more time was sucked up by everyone’s carry-ons having to be checked. And when’s the last time you were on a plane with no air vents?!

Under the best of conditions I’d still like air conditioning chips installed in my body, so the lack of those little nozzles that spray other people’s germs on you was very disquieting. Not to mention that this was my view for 3 1/2 hours:

You know what? If your head’s in this condition and your ass isn’t in a leather seat on your own private Lear jet, please have some consideration for the person 17 inches behind you and wear a hat! And I don’t want to see your hairy legs either. With all the rules the airlines are making these days can’t they add mandatory long pants t0 the list??

We finally landed in Chicago, jumped into our rental car and hit the freeway, or should I say parking lot.

Thankfully, I had just downloaded AT&T Navigator on my iPhone, which I’m happy to report is a lot more reliable than their cell service. I can’t say I’ve ever been happy with the iPhone’s map app so it was a real relief to have that talking lady lead us to Kenosha on surface roads. It was going to take a little longer but I figured we’d spot all kinds of vintage motels and diners and taking photographs of all that is my favorite thing to do. But I’m sad to report that everything has been mowed down or renovated so it looks like anywhere-just-outside-any-city, USA. The only exciting thing was that we passed the headquarters of Uline, an office supply place I’ve been ordering stuff from for at least 15 years because anything you get arrives bright and early the next day even if you don’t order it until 5 PM. I’ve often fantasized about the location of this fantastically efficient company and was sure they had to have warehouses in LA for such fast delivery. So although there’s no vintage blinking signs or architecture to write home about, at least Uline popped up in the endless miles of asphalt and tall grass.

Just as we hit the Kenosha line there was one incredible vintage architectural relic:

That’s the old drive-in theater that we were supposed to see a movie at that night but the windstorm had taken the screen out so our one shot at vintage immersion was not to be.  Signs of the windstorm were everywhere.

Nothing could destroy the mighty pillars of the one “big” hotel in Kenosha, however, The Best Western. Here’s the grand entrance:

At least it overlooked a lake.

Which is good because I wouldn’t want to have had to swim in the hotel’s pool or should I say…:

So we bypassed the poo and hit the elevator to drop everything off in the room. Snappy’s food dropped somewhere else:

No salad to munch on, we  got dressed and headed over to Villa Di Carlos across the street where a pizza dinner for the out-of-town wedding guests was being held. Even just walking from the hotel to the restaurant produced about 25 pounds of sweat so it was a relief to walk into not just air conditioning but a cheese haven of 4th of July wonderment:

I’m not sure how the Easter chick made it in but he did:

Unfortunately we were directed to an empty room downstairs where one vent spit out a sputtering stream of air if you happened to be sitting directly in front of it, which we weren’t. It was then I remembered why I left the Midwest behind so many years ago and moved to Los Angeles, where 99% of the time there’s no humidity and everything is air-conditioned anyway. Unless I wanted to be a maniac all weekend I just gave in and decided that I was going to be fine feeling like a baby’s diaper the whole weekend as most likely everyone else did too. Besides, the wedding couple, Natalie Lent and Chris Bruss, both friends from LA, were fabulous and we were there to support them and not my vintage architecture and kitsch sightings habit.

The next morning we woke up and hit Frank’s Diner, a 1928 railroad car style diner, featured on Food Network’s Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives.

If  I thought I produced sweat the day before, it was nothing compared to the downpour that occurred inside the sweat lodge known as Frank’s.

The place itself was fabulous, the food was good but not A+ phenomenal, and the service made waiting for the flight at LAX the day before seem like the bullet train. The place is long and narrow and the line continues throughout the entire diner,…

…nowhere near a match for the two ceiling fans over the counter and vents on the floor near the booths.

The last time I looked, vents in walls or ceilings produced far better effects. But I suppose that people who only go to diners because they’re featured on television think that part of the experience is dripping into your food. It took almost an hour to get a turkey club and a tall stack. Pancakes were good and thick and the turkey club was juicy but filled with processed gobbler. I should’ve gotten the specialty of the house, the “garbage” egg concoctions:

And the next morning at Mike’s Burgers I should’ve gotten the fries:

And I guess I should’ve dressed more festively. It’s not often I’m outdone.

I can’t say Kenosha was my favorite destination point. We had a great time at the wedding and the hotel, although not opulent and featuring a poo, at least wasn’t crawling with what this house a couple blocks away was:

Yesterday morning, Snappy and I said goodbye to the bride…

We took the non-descript surface road ride back to O’Hare and I found plugs for some of my mobile devices.

We were in the air when the fireworks started so missed that but I have to say that flying on a holiday gives you a very empty airport and on-time flights, i.e. painless travel. And this time it got us LA.

One of the best things about the 4th of July is the food one consumes as a means of celebration, and normally my Independence Day spread looks like the above. I would be eating that or any of the following recipes were I not on a plane flying back from a wedding in Kenosha and munching on a can of Pringles as we speak.

So I’m going to pretend my mouth is chewing something other than dried potato wafers as I tell you what would be on the grill at Willis Wonderland today were I home instead of packed in next to a snoring pork of a passenger on American somewhere over Nebraska. First there’s my favorite recipe of all, Bacon Wrapped Hamburger Hot Dog Turtles. Thank you, k2dtw, for submitting this beauty to The Allee Willis Museum Of Kitsch!  Just jam three weenies through a hamburger, whack the appropriate weenie limbs for feet, shave the tail, wrap the torso with bacon and throw the reptile on the grill for perfect BBQ sealife.

Although not as pretty of a design as the carnivore turtle, the Original Bacon Explosion packs more pound-for-pound bacon punch. There’s a documented-better-than-a-crime-scene recipe for this charred-looks-like-something-else too here.

Even better, the Original Bacon Explosion comes with its own Bacon Explosion Pig-Porter!!

I would love, of course, if I was the one who turned you on to the Bacon Explosion but its fame is well-established:

For a BBQ treat slightly more obscure, how about an Ultimate Meat Lover’s BBQ Pizza?

And for dessert, how bout a flag cake? I’d go with donut holes for the white part.

Actually, I’d rather serve an ice cream cone Uncle Sam.

Any cake with color correct food coloring is also fine…

…as well as marshmallow studded kabobs:

For optimum eating pleasure, serve all of the above on appropriate BBQ dinnerware. Don’t even ask me how many pieces of this pattern I have.

Happy 4th, happy BBQ and happy listening should you be lucky enough to own this:

I shall be chewing along pretending I’m not on a plane sitting next to a man whose hairy legs are protruding from his khaki shorts making it impossible for me to enjoy my (BBQ sauce-less) Pringles.