Errant Ramblings: Mitzi Szereto’s Weblog

Ian Somerhalder with his mate Teddy Tedaloo

I’ve been invited to speak at the upcoming Social Media in Business Conference in London on the subject of social media for creative artists, and it’s really got me thinking (I do indulge in this on occasion). As the “Queen of Facebook” (according to Wikipedia and my hapless suitor Mark Zuckerberg), not to mention author and editor of numerous books, blogger for “Errant Ramblings” (you’re reading it now!), creator and presenter of Mitzi TV, and the mother to my famous bear Teddy Tedaloo, it’s probably safe to assume that my name carries a bit of clout. You can find me pretty much everywhere on the internet. Heck, I’m a social media goddess!

I have thousands of fans, friends, followers, tweeters, and stalkers from nearly every country in the world, running the gamut from authors, poets, tech geeks, musicians, pensioners, estate agents, educators, students, actors, film producers, social media gurus, doctors, lawyers, Indian chiefs, journalists, politicians, pervs (see “politicians”), exiled Communists, serial killers, PR people (see “serial killers”), dead rock stars, and teddy bears – to your aunt Tilly from Temecula who no one ever talks about since the cops dug up her back garden and discovered all those bodies. (But hey, they got great wi-fi at Quentin, so she’s always wired and ready to go – well, at least until they strap her in the chair.)

Sounds like I pretty much know everybody, right? Then why is it with all my contacts, not a single one has responded to my request to fix me up with Ian Somerhalder? Yes, I mean the very same Ian Somerhalder who plays the dishy but nasty vampire Damon Salvatore in “The Vampire Diaries“. What exactly is going on here? Where are all these people I’ve cultivated and made so happy with my many posts, tweets, rants, and raves? You know who you are, so don’t even try to wrangle out of it.

Fine, so you retweeted me a few times – big deal. But what have you done for me lately? Where are you when I really need you? I’m beginning to get Jewish mother syndrome here. I do so much for you, I sacrifice, oy oy oy.  Yet the minute I ask for something, everyone runs to the hills. (Hey, wasn’t that a really bad Iron Maiden song?)

Am I supposed to believe that with thousands of people at my electronic beck and call, not one of them will show their appreciation for all my hard work and sacrifice by having a word in Ian’s shell-like? Okay, I do expect flowers, but he doesn’t have to go all out and blow his entire pay packet on them. (I’m not one of THOSE girls.) But heck, if I’m willing to offer up my tender neck, I expect him to be enough of a gentleman when he sinks his teeth into it. On second thought, tell him to ditch the flowers. Some nice chocolate will suffice. Let it not be said that I don’t have my priorities right.

I’d always vowed never to get involved with an actor. Having served some time in Los Angeles, let me tell you that you can get weary of actors very quickly. And they don’t necessarily make the best waiters either, despite popular opinion. Could be one reason why there are so many sushi bars in LA – you don’t need that many waiters to staff them. The thing is, you can’t always predict or control whom you’ll fall for. Actor, bus driver, binman… It’s in the lap of the gods.

As for Ian, I think we’d be really great together. (Sorry, Mark!) And, even more importantly, Ted likes him. Ian’s a big animal lover and, although his love seems to focus more on cats and dogs, Ted’s pretty certain he can win him over with his ursine charm. In fact, judging by that photo of them together, I’d say it’s already working! (Mind you, I just hope that Ian’s not trying to use him to further his own career. You tend to get that with these artistic types.)

So Ian, what time are you coming to get me?

Well, I suppose it was inevitable: I’d have to screw up somewhere. And what better place to do so than right in front of a video camera for the entire world to see? Okay, I could have kept it hidden, saved my professional pride. But that would be cheating.

And you don’t want me to cheat, do you?

Because sometimes even Mitzi doesn’t get it right!

Mitzi Szereto at Mitzi TV "Prowling For Eels" video shoot

…It’s Mitzi TV!

And just what did you think it was, a man with three buttocks?

In case you didn’t already know (like where you been, mate?), Mitzi TV is the new web TV channel to head to for all things quirky and eccentric in London. We’ve gone from crazy pub singalongs, eating jellied eel, and chatting about classic cars with such luminaries as Formula 1 racecar driver/BBC TV presenter Tiff Needell, couture shoe designer Jimmy Choo and Batman – to Morris dancing with software geeks. And no, this wasn’t in the same episode!

Of course, I couldn’t create all this madness and mayhem without the talents of cameraman extraordinaire/stand-up diamond geezah Steve Beer and cutie-pie theme musicman extraordinaire Andrew Shatnyy (Facebook/MySpace). And let’s not forget the talents of my handsome (albeit furry) production assistant extraordinaire Teddy Tedaloo, who also provides onscreen talent.

As for those buttocks I mentioned, how do you deal with a governmental body that has all the common sense of not even one buttock?

In my never-ending quest to bring you the ever-quirky and eccentric (while still managing to stay out of the loony bin), I recently found myself entering into a rather annoying fracas with a governmental body: the Royal Parks people. I knew I should’ve cut through all those buzzing drones and biscuit-eating/tea drinking middle men (and women) and gone straight to the top, specifically HRH. Now Lizzie’s a queen who gets things done!

I am referring to a recent attempt by yours truly to line up permission to shoot a Mitzi TV video at Speaker’s Corner in London’s Hyde Park. Because it’s a “Royal” park, I knew I’d need to obtain an official okay. I mean, it wasn’t like we’d be there with a little digital camera and could subtly blend into the crowd. We run a professional operation with professional equipment. (Plus people have commented on that big-ass mike I use, so “subtle” is not the word that springs to mind when we’re talking a Mitzi TV shoot.) Since Speaker’s Corner necessitates a substantial police presence (some of the speakers and audience members can get pretty wound up apparently), I didn’t fancy being led away by the Old Bill, therefore I decided to follow the proper channels to make the shoot happen. It’s a quirky kind of event, and Mitzi TV is nothing if not quirky, so it didn’t seem likely I’d be given an “on yer bike, missus!”.

When I received an email replying to my query, I thought, hey, this is great – sounds like we’re in! Here follows the exact text that refers directly to the issue about who and what controls the area in question:

Speaker’s Corner is an integral part of Hyde Park, which is one of London’s eight Royal Parks. The Royal Parks are owned by the Crown, but were passed to the Government under the Crown Lands Act 1851 to be managed as public open space. They are now the responsibility of the Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport, who delegates their day to day management to The Royal Parks.  They are funded by the taxpayer.

Teddy Tedaloo in Mitzi TV video opener

“Public open space.” “Funded by the taxpayer.” Well, I’m no lawyer, but this sounds like the definition of a public place – and you do not need permission to film in a public place (not yet anyway). That is why it’s called “PUBLIC.” That statement about being funded by the taxpayer put a further stamp of approval on the process, because guess who’s a taxpayer? Yeah, moi. Just to make certain there was no misinterpretation on my part as to what clearly looked to be a clear description of who controls the park, I messaged once more to confirm that I’d be allowed to shoot some video of the speakers, and asked which specific days they were there spouting off.

The reply came back that these Soapbox Annies and Alis are there on Sundays only, and yes, I would need permission to film, but my message was being forwarded to the Appropriate Party. Not wanting to waste time, I shot off an email to this A.P., explaining what I wished to do and that I’d like to take care of the details as quickly as possible. A.P. messaged back, informing me that they do not permit filming at Speaker’s Corner on Sundays, but I could phone them to discuss the matter further.

Umm… did they not just tell me that I couldn’t film there on a Sunday? So what was there to discuss, the weather? Of course we all know how the Brits love to talk about the weather.

So did this mean they’d give me permission to film at Speaker’s Corner on a day that was not a Sunday? Now forgive me if I’m wrong (or extremely stupid), but what’s the point of filming speakers at Speaker’s Corner when there aren’t any speakers there to film? This is the very question I put forth to A.P. in my reply, also mentioning the fact that plenty of people have shot videos there – how could this be possible if they needed to obtain permission? Needless to say, my email did not receive a response.

Mitzi Szereto at Mitzi TV "Baby You Can Drive My Car" video shoot

Now I have nothing against doing a bit of guerrilla filming – I’ve got more cajones than any of the men I’ve known. However, what I do have something against is being harassed (and led away by handcuffs) by the police. There’s a time and place for handcuffs – and this isn’t one of them. Besides which, London coppers aren’t as cute as they used to be. They’re getting a bit wide, if you know what I mean, looking more and more like their doughnut-eating American counterparts. So we’d better forget the handcuffs for now.

As for Mitzi TV, keep an eye out for me at Speaker’s Corner, because I don’t like taking “no” for an answer.

Guess it’s a good thing they abolished beheading in this country…

MITZI TV

Teddy Tedaloo reads "In Sleeping Beauty's Bed: Erotic Fairy Tales"

No, I’m not talking about what you think (or hope) I’m talking about. Nor am I talking about Depeche Mode‘s Dave Gahan. As you may already know, I’ve blogged about Dave before – he was one of my very first Facebook friends! (Alas, our relationship has since gone pear-shaped, and we’re no longer speaking.)

No, I’m talking about Teddy Tedaloo, who’s one of my most devoted fans. Well, he’d better be, since I pay the rent. Though I really wish he’d stop singing that damned Pet Shop Boys song all the time; it’s beginning to get up my nose. I love you, you pay my rent, indeed! Mind you, when it comes to fans, he has plenty himself, if his Facebook group is anything to go by… and my long-distance phone bill. When my shipment of author copies for In Sleeping Beauty’s Bed: Erotic Fairy Tales arrived the other morning courtesy of my publisher Cleis Press in San Francisco, who do you think couldn’t wait to tear open the box?

You guessed it.

I didn’t even get a chance to make a cup of tea before Ted was already in the kitchen rustling about in the knife drawer to find something to slice open the box with. The next thing I know he’s happily ensconced on the fluffy white coverlet on our sofa with his little black nose buried in the book. How he managed to fetch his reading glasses from the upstairs bedroom without my seeing him is anyone’s guess. I suppose that’s one of the advantages of being diminutive in stature.

“Now Mitzi, are you using your blog to plug your new book release?” I hear you asking. Why, of course I am! After all, it’s my blog and I can do what I want with it. Having said that, don’t I provide you with hours and  hours of free entertainment? After all I’ve done for you – sacrificed for you, is it so much to expect a little consideration and support? (Insert Jewish mother guilt-inspiring voice here.) Haven’t I given you the best years of my life? (Insert nagging-wife voice here.) If my book is good enough for my bear, then it’s good enough for you! And take my word for it when I say that Ted’s not easily impressed. You’d be hard-pressed to find a more difficult critic to get past.

So if you want to make me happy (and you do want to make me happy, don’t you?), then click on one of the very handy Amazon carousels located right here on my website (you can select from three different countries – oy, how easy can it be?) and pre-order your copy of In Sleeping Beauty’s Bed now!

Do it because you love me.

And if you don’t, so lie.

(BTW, if you happen to be a book reviewer, drop me a note and I’ll put in a review copy request for you. But you gotta promise to be nice!)

Mitzi Szereto on a Mitzi TV shoot in London

A chat about my grand passion the internet, along with email etiquette, social networking, geekdom, and all things Mitzi TV; (broadcast on 4 August 2009, the Dave Monk programme, BBC Radio Essex).

Click to listen: http://mitziszereto.com/Mitzi-Szereto-BBC-Essex

Mitzi Szereto and Teddy Tedaloo enjoy some strudel

I bet you didn’t know that I was named after an Austrian countess (or rather my name was passed down to me by my mother, who was the one originally named for said countess). Okay, so I don’t think my ancestors hung out with Mozart (more likely Liszt), but it’s rumoured that the ghost of my maternal grandmother is wandering the streets of Vienna as we speak! She’s probably checking to see if anyone makes better apple strudel than she did.

Which brings me to Wien. What was initially supposed to be a short visit three years in the making turned into a whirlwind of activity and a combo work-holiday/food orgy. No sooner did I arrive at Vienna airport than Teddy and I were whisked off in a Fiat Panda  (yes, I said panda!) to Radio FM4 ORF to be interviewed on the “Reality Check” programme by Kerry Skyring, who turned out to be Australian rather than Austrian. Perhaps it was inevitable, since not only did the car I was riding in have a sticker in the rear window of a koala bear with an Australian flag, but my hostess for the weekend (Sylvia Petter) is herself Australian. I should’ve known the shrimp was on the barbie when I was treated to an authentic Austrian Australian breakfast of Vegemite on toast. (Why does Vegemite always conjure up Men at Work and their song “Land Down Under“?) Not even 24 hours had passed and already I was wondering which country I’d come to. Had I boarded the wrong plane at Gatwick? It was all becoming a blur: Austria, Australia, Vienna, Vietnam. Whatever. As long as I could get some nice cakes I was cool with it.

I didn’t even have a chance to recover from my journey (why does it take twice as long to get to the bloody airport here in the UK than it does to fly across Europe?) then I was up early the next morning (anything before 10am is perverse for me) and off on the Mutzenbacher tour – an interesting and rather unique walking tour of Vienna’s less than savoury past. Let me tell you, it’s a good thing I had one of those Viennese coffees to start off the morning with! Mind you, the heat of the day was proving unbearable, and as the tour reached its conclusion I was fearing I’d never manage my reading that evening at Shakespeare & Company Booksellers. I don’t “do” heat very well, and as morning turned to afternoon, it grew hotter and hotter. It might have been prophetic that one of the readings I’d planned for the evening was from my short story “Hell is Where the Heart is” (in Getting Even: Revenge Stories). Because it was definitely hotter than hell!

Mitzi Szereto partakes of a pre-author reading pigout

To keep me alive, just before the reading Sylvia took me to an ice cream parlour in The Bermuda Triangle area (no, I didn’t spot any sharks!), where I hurriedly indulged in a divine ice cream sundae topped with candied chestnuts (I say hurriedly because the heat was melting it), after which the three of us made our way to Shakespeare. Ted was keeping a low profile in his backpack. It’s a good thing too, considering we were greeted at the bottom of the road leading to the bookshop by a gentleman armed with a really butch submachine gun. As we headed up the hill, I noticed a police car blocking the top of the road. Seriously, I never expected my appearance to cause this much of a fuss. I’ve performed my work in such diverse locales as London, Los Angeles, and Wales – and there was never any necessity for armed officers and police guards. Then it dawned on me. The road housed the Stadttempel, Vienna’s main synagogue. Aside from the fact that this happened to be a Friday evening, the Stadttempel had been attacked by terrorists some years back – and clearly the authorities had no intention of allowing it to happen again. Talk about sobering. What a nasty world we live in when people can’t even go to shul without risking their lives.

Mitzi Szereto with Teddy Tedaloo outside Shakespeare & Company Booksellers

At the bookshop I consumed glass after glass of mineral water, hoping I wouldn’t melt into a literary puddle before the time came for my gig to start. The owners were beginning to look at me with concern, no doubt thinking I’d keel over dead right in the middle of their shop. In an attempt to cool off, I went outside (it wasn’t much better there either), where I struck up a conversation with a very nice lad, who’d been perusing the books before he had to head off to synagogue. Okay, so maybe I was chatting him up, if you want to know the truth! (After all, doesn’t every girl’s mother tell her to find a nice Jewish boy?) He seemed genuinely interested in my reading and wanted to attend, but being a Friday evening, the rabbi called. Not one to let a good opportunity pass, I did everything I could to convince him to skip out of shul, even suggesting he recruit the rabbi and anyone else he could find and bring them on over. Alas, our relationship hadn’t yet progressed to the point where he’d choose me over the rabbi, but I remain hopeful.

Anyway, the last I heard, my Aussie Austrian hostess Sylvia was getting the wedding invitations printed. Mazel tov!

(Stay tuned for Part 2 of my Vienna blog!)

A bit of Viennese craziness:

Mitzi Szereto with Teddy Tedaloo at her author appearance in Vienna

For those of you who were unable to be there in person, you can hear me read an excerpt from my short story “Odalisque” (from my anthology Foreign Affairs: Erotic Travel Tales), which took place at Shakespeare & Company Booksellers in Vienna, Austria on 17 July 2009. This had to be the hottest night of the year, but thanks to Teddy, copious glasses of mineral water, and a bit of unexpected inspiration from the synagogue next door (now that’s MY secret!), I managed to survive without melting away completely!

Watch the Video on YouTube:

Mitzi Szereto at Mitzi TV Morris Dancing video shoot

Mitzi TV ventures into Central London to meet up with the Westminster Morris Men, a team of Morris dancers who do a lot more than shake their booty as they keep alive this wonderfully rhythmic English folk dance!

Visit the official Mitzi TV website at: http://mitziszereto.com/tv

It’s another Fourth of July – Independence Day for us Yanks – and it’s got me thinking about what I miss most about America. Okay, if I’m honest, I’d have to say not a whole heck of a lot. However, if I’m also honest, well… there are some things. So to be fair to the old homeland and the Stars and Stripes (cue “Star Spangled Banner”), I thought I’d come up with a list – or rather a short list, since I really must put the kettle on!

Top of the pops would have to be clothes dryers. I mean, exactly what is this invention here in the UK they call a “clothes dryer”? It sure doesn’t dry clothes, I’ll tell you that much. It does, however, do a slap-up job of wrinkling the hell out of them (as does the great British washing machine and its mentally challenged sister, the “washer-dryer”). It’s no wonder my pile of ironing never diminishes. Whoever designed these things was surely taking the mickey out of people who like to wear clean fresh-smelling clothes. American washing machines and clothes dryers do a wonderful job, even the cheaper models. Frankly, I don’t understand why they’ve fobbed these ridiculous appliances off on us. Perhaps some primitive tribe on a forgotten South Pacific island didn’t want them, so the manufacturers said, “oi, let’s dump these piles of shite onto the Brits. They won’t make a fuss. Still upper lip and all that!” (Whoever said the war was over?)

Another thing I miss are doctors’ offices that don’t look like a waiting room at a rundown city centre bus station. Just try to find a magazine more recent than 2005, especially one that isn’t about fly fishing! There’s also usually some reasonably pleasant music playing in American doctors’ offices, as opposed to the dulcet tones of phlegmy coughing and wheezing that we listen to here from people who should probably be quarantined or shot, not sitting with a roomful of sorry bastards who might value another few years of life on this doomed planet.

Having said that, I don’t miss the exorbitant medical costs that go into having nicer patient waiting areas or paying the salaries of the ten dozen or so people per doctor’s office who just handle patient and insurance billing, but do nothing that contributes to a patient’s actual health care. Nor do I miss the terror of either having no health insurance or wondering if I’ll either be cancelled, refused insurance, have a claim rejected, or be able to pay for the portion of a claim the insurance doesn’t cover or, or that matter, be able to afford the next premium (which generally increases exponentially with each breath you take and far exceeds the rate of debt of all the Third World countries combined).

Something else I really pine for is the TV commercial for “The Clapper“. (And no, this isn’t some new STD.) It always comes on around Christmastime and features a slew of lazy buggers who can’t be bothered to switch off the lights or telly. My favourite out of this cast of loonies is the mad-looking old bat who’s lying all tucked up in bed, then suddenly from beneath the bedclothes these big gorilla hands appear, clapping the telly off. I tell you, American television just doesn’t get any better! (I wonder if I can land an interview with her for Mitzi TV?)

I also miss the fact that in America the majority of people can actually go for a night out and drink in reasonable moderation (well, except for students in frat houses or on spring break in Daytona Beach), rather than here where they fall into the gutter and pass out – and that’s only after they’ve left behind a pool of vomit for some unsuspecting pedestrian to step in – or slip and fall into. The real tragedy is, these people are going to bankrupt the British National Health Service with the vast menu of ailments and diseases which will develop from their excessive drinking. Perhaps some of the costs can be offset if the UK begins to export a new delicacy: pickled liver.

And lastly, most of all I miss the teeth.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could take the best of both America and Britain and create one great big wonderful country? Or perhaps we already have.

It’s called Canada.

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