Chez and the Unreal Girl - Part 2

Okay, where was I? It feels like a month since yesterday. Oh yeah, I was waiting until after the niece's jumping classes to show her this...

...so I could get the skinny on what happened when she knocked on Chez's door at 10:15pm, the night before his final day/round of the Bob Hope Classic. At this point I should say I was pretty uncomfortable with the fact that she would have the nerve to knock on the guy's door. Which is very odd because it was a behavior I had seen a million times by groupies during my years of shooting rock stars. But I guess not so odd since I never had the balls to do something like that myself, even though I had plenty of opportunity.

So, I showed her the stalkeresque photo I shot of the subject in question on his way out the door for his fifth and final round. She flipped out in the "that's so cool...I so want to get with him" way. The door was open...that was easy. I stepped through and asked...

"Did you actually knock on his door last night?"

"Yes."

"I thought I heard light knocking, then harder knocking and even louder and longer knocking...was that all you?"

"I think he was asleep."

"And you kept knocking?"

"Uh huh."

"Did he answer the door?"

I really wanted her answer to be no, because I knew if he answered the door he had to come all the way down the stairs. And if that happened I would have to be embarrassed for my niece.

"Yes."

"Oh my God." Pick myself up off the ground. "What did you say?"

"Hi."

"Hi? You woke the guy up before a tournament to say Hi?"

"It was kind of awkward. I wished him luck on his game."

Over the next hour or two we probably went over what was said or not said at least twenty times. We all had lunch at the Mexican place again.

This time they had a part of a mariachi band playing outside...but we sat at the same table we had the day before. And continued our conversation about Chez among other things. At some point in one of the conversations I told the niece she had a chip on her shoulder. Sure enough when I looked up at her it was there...

After lunch we returned to the condo to go for a swim. I was happy to see that none of the cars belonging to the occupants of the upstairs condo were there. I was still ragging on the niece for her skanky (I guess since nothing happened it wasn't skanky) behavior and told her she better hope he had a good day on the course 'cause if he didn't it would be all her fault. With that thought, I immediately got on the internet to check his score...

Okay, he had a -6, -6, -4 and a -3 in his first four rounds...and on his fifth and final round...the day after he was awakened from his peaceful pre-last round sleep by the niece...he shot a...oh my God...he shot a 75!...yikes...that's +3...aka 3 over par...or should I say six shots over what he shot on his previous worst day...man, that sucks...or should I say, he must have choked...he must have choked because he had sleep interuptus at the hand of the niece rapping on his door.

If you don't believe me you can check out his scores right here.

I ragged on her some more. Then, as we began cross the green outside our balcony door on our way to the pool I said, "You better hope he doesn't come back to the condo carrying a bomb with your name on it." And at that very moment an SUV comes barreling up the road doing twice the speed limit and screeches to a stop facing the wrong way at the curb in front of the condo. The door opens and - I kid you not - Chez Reavie jumps out of the driver's seat. I grabbed the niece's arm and we high-tailed it to the right, heading to a different pool where he wouldn't see us.

By the time we got out of the jacuzzi and back to the condo Chez was long gone. We thought he was just out for the evening because there were lots of lights on in his condo. I was thinking I should drop a copy of EISID to him as an apology for his crappy round. But we never saw him again. The next evening the same lights were burning. He hadn't been back. I guess his mom never taught him to turn out the lights when he left a room...or a condo.

I'm figuring at some point Chez, or one of his friends, will show up here after googling Chez Reavie. If you are reading this, Chez, I hope you brought your sense of humor and realize, while this story is all true, I may be embellishing the motivations of some of the characters within it. Call it artistic license. Oh, and I still have a copy of Everybody I Shot Is Dead for you in thanks for behaving like a gentleman when facing the intrusion of the niece...just email me and let me know where to send it. It's the least I can do.

Chez and the Unreal Girl

Three posts ago I mentioned that the Bob Hope classic was happening in Palm Desert (La Quinta to be exact) this past weekend and pro golfer Chez Reavie was staying in the condo above us.

I only knew this because my brother-in-law was outside one morning (before I arrived) when Chez was loading his clubs in a car that had some official PGA sticker on it. And being a golfing enthusiast he struck up a who-are-you convo with Chez and wished him luck on his round that day. On top of that, my eighteen year old niece had also seen him and freely let me know (more than once) that she thought he was hot.

In order to to mention him in the other post I did a little research in order to spell his name correctly, how much money he made last year, and how he was doing in the Bob Hope Classic. He was 6 under the first two days, 4 under on the third day and 3 under on Saturday, the day I arrived and did the post. As I was working on the post, my niece joked about knocking on his door and hooking up with him. Ha. Ha. Then she went in her room and changed into her jammie bottoms (tight stretchy short shorts) and that was that.

By this time, it was around ten o'clock and the sister and the bro-in-law were already on the other side of the sandman. And I was so internet involved I barely noticed when my niece slipped out the front door 15 minutes later. Until I heard a light knocking. Nah, it can't be. Then quiet. Then more knocking, a bit harder this time. No way, it can't be. Then a harder and much longer knocking. Then nothing. A few minutes later my niece marched into the condo and mumbled a few words on her way down the hall to her room. I left it at that. Maybe I didn't want to know.

Early the next morning, the guys from upstairs were in and out carting their clubs and luggage to the car...right outside my open window so I could hear everything. My bro-in-law was also outside, waiting by the car for the sister and the niece to go to the horse grounds for her 8am class. The bro-in-law wished Chez luck on his last game of the tourney, and I was hoping that he would get in his car and drive away before my niece left our condo. I didn't know what happened, if anything, the night before - for all I knew he wasn't even home - but if something did...well, I didn't want any confrontation before she had to go and jump a bunch of fences on a thousand pound horse.

My prayers were answered...sort of. He didn't drive off, but he did go back in the condo and didn't come out again until the niece was long gone. How do I know this? I decided I would try to snap a stalker picture of the guy coming out his condo. I had already opened the shutters on the window and loved the lighting and the framing. The picture was really for the art of the shot...not the art of the stalk. Really. And I was pretty sure it was impossible to get the timing right and catch him in the frame, especially since I was shooting it on my phone.

A few minutes later, I heard him bounding down the stairs. He was fast. My heart raced. I clicked. Hoping he couldn't hear it through the window. Hoping I got the shot since there are no second chances in covert stalker photography. The result? Well, I think I brought 'the art' into the art of stalker photography. I not only caught the subject...I think the framing and lighting is stellar. I like that you can't see his face. I like that he's in motion. I think it looks like a painting.

I must admit part of my motivation to shoot the picture was my curiosity of what happened the night before. Did the niece talk to him? Did he answer the door? (See, if I was really a stalker I would have spied on the niece from my room as soon as she slipped out the door...but I didn't). I decided I would show the picture to my niece as a way to find out what happened...but I had to wait until after she finished her classes.

Drat...and now that it's 11:30pm, you're going to have to wait until tomorrow to read the rest of the story. That wasn't my plan but since I droned on and on instead of telling the whole thing succinctly in a few paragraphs and don't have time to edit, that's the way it's gotta be.

Weekly Round-Up

Has a whole week (+ one day) actually gone by since my last Weekly Round-Up post? I can't believe it. I also can't believe it's only 11 months until Christmas. Didn't we just have Christmas? Sheesh.

Last week in my very first WR-U post I said "...And that made me think it might be fun/useful/possibly entertaining if I dedicated one day a week to shed some light on what I'm doing and what's really going on inside my head." That could be a problem, 'cause I'm beginning to think there's not much going on in my head. My first clue? I can't remember what I did this week.

Let me think...Monday was a holiday but I worked. On something. I'm sure it was important. Maybe some graphics? Oh, I was trying to figure out how to update the menu bar on my website. I want to add a "services" section to pimp all the different things I do to earn a living. Photography, graphics, writing, producing...that sort of stuff. I was hoping I could handle it myself but I can't remember how to do the CSS (I think that's what it's called). :(

Tuesday was inauguration day. I watched that for most of the day...while I worked...on something. I think this is a sign that I need to make daily to-do lists and calendar everything I do. Otherwise I am going to believe that I sit at my desk only to be abducted by aliens for 8 hours a day. I celebrated Barack's first day as President Obama with a free dinner at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse (yes, I always remember the food)...

This does not look nearly as good as it tasted. And it wasn't exactly free...it came with a snake oil salesman shilling a you-can't-possibly-lose-on-this investment opportunity. Evenso, it was worth it. The food, not the investment.

Wednesday...what happened to Wednesday? I think I did an ad. Or was that Thursday? That reminds me. I went to my neighborhood library this week. There was a woman sitting on the bench just outside the entrance with what appeared to be a baby in her arms. She was feeding it applesauce. And talking to it.

I was yakking on my cell so I stopped outside the entrance to finish the call. That's when I took a second look at the woman on the bench. There were a couple of teddy bears seated on either side of her and three individual open applesauces. And the baby in her arms wasn't a baby. It was another teddy bear. And she was talking to all of her bears. And feeding them. Showing them the love that only a mother can give. My first thought was 'how sad.' But my second thought was 'she looks really happy.' Taking care of her family. A simple life...

Thursday I was working on a TV pitch...have I mentioned the pitch before?...I still can't talk about it. I can say that the Italian made lunch on Thursday after making an incredible dinner on Wednesday. This time I took a picture of the meal...

I am now in love with the mozzarella cheese that comes in little balls. There's two of them near the bottom of the plate. Yum. Yum. Yum.

Friday I worked on the pitch some more and then on a graphics job for the Berlin Film Festival, along with some other stuff to be determined.

This morning I got up really early - 7:30am early - to drive to Palm Desert for a weekend visit with my sister, brother-in-law and niece, Kristy. They're here from Canada for a horse show. I took a bunch of pictures of Kristy jumping her two horses and some of the other riders. I forgot to bring the cable for my camera so luckily I can't post them...I say luckily because they show my total lack of prowess in timing horses going over jumps. Turns out riding them is much easier than shooting them. I have one more day to get it right. And I will.

It was cold and rainy when I left LA. And about 40 miles west of my final destination it looked like this...
I was really glad I brought long-sleeved shirts...until I got to the show grounds and began sweating like a stuck pig. After Kristy's class (she placed 2nd and 3rd!) we went to a Mexican canteena for lunch. This was the table after we were done...

And Larry fixing up the tip...

Love that picture.

And Kristy...
Just know that the key to being a great photographer is having the ability to reach inside the subject's soul. Mission accomplished.

Back at the barn and on the phone with her friend Josh back home in Canada...

She's been on the phone at least half the time I've been here. I can't wait 'til her parents get this month's cell phone bill.

After the show I took Kristy to Foster's Freeze...

Yes, I ate the whole thing and it was scrump-dili-icious.

And then there was the religious experience on the way to the condo...

...maybe because we are staying in the PGA West residences where they are holding the Bob Hope Classic this weekend.

Our gated entrance...

And this guy is staying in the condo above us...

This is Chez Reavie. He's a pro golfer on the PGA tour. I'm guessing he endorses Titleist. He's 27 years old. Last year he earned over 1.4 million dollars in prize money.

Sheesh.

So, what am I doing?

Obviously not enough.

And what's going on in my head?

If you can figure it out, please...please...let me know. Consider this my cry for help.

This post began with steak and it shall end with steak...

Yup, tonight's free meal. This time without the spiel.