Este Lado de Tipico

So we had a notice taped to our mailbox yesterday that someone was filming in our neighborhood. Specifically at the monstrosity mcmansion across the street. As if we didn't notice the five million cars parked on our narrow street and random people milling about.

I've never blogged about that giant eyesore, but it is something to behold. We all were nosy neighbors took a tour of it after they finished building it and it is both the greatest and ugliest house in the world. It's got a closet the size of my kitchen, a screening room, 5 tvs in the master suite, and servant's quarters over by the sauna. All the workmanship however is just this side of high quality with uneven drawer knobs, plastic shutters , and decorated with the ugliest rainbow unicorn and dolphin paintings I have ever seen. Unless you're trolling the streets of tijuana--you might see a few there.

We are unaware of who actually owns the house, but it has been leased by a number of people, including a Jersey mobster complete with moll in leopard print hot pants, and the vaseline eating emotionally unstable Stefan Marbury. If anything, this house has been a source of police calls entertainment, if not parking snarls.

I don't think anyone is living there now--and like many empty houses in LA, it's a prime target for filming. So next to our mailbox was this blue notice that they were "setting up" for filming as they wait for their "permits" to go through. That's LA speak for "we ain't in your way, don't call the cops"

Now I should add the caveat that I am aware that a great deal of PORN gets filmed around here--meaning the valley--but I don't think this fit the MO. For one, I don't think they'd post notices--that sort of thing is a hush operation around here. Not that this place isn't the perfect backdrop for a visit from the cable guy. But there weren't enough creeps tramps fake boobs to arouse any suspicion.

There were a LOT of Spanish sounding names on the permit, so, knowing the industry, our only assumption was that a tele-novela was being filmed across the street. Interesting. Because if they wanted a novela, they could have just come over here.

I liken my life with Autism to a novela, si. Note the comparisons:

First of all there is a language spoken over here that many barely understand--but if you really try, you can figure it out from gestures, tone and how many items of clothing the protagonist is wearing. I mean, the dude walks around without pants most of the time.

There is a LOT of drama in this house, over the littlest things. You want more goldfish? why won't you eat the meal I cooked for you? why? don't you know you're going to STARVE? followed of course by an exhasperated sigh and the need for something alcoholic. Ay, Dios mio!

A lot of secrets are kept in this house--mostly to avoid tantrums meltdowns nuclear armaggeddon. He doesn't need to know that I hid his valentine candy, or that I sneak butternut squash or cauliflower into his scrambled eggs. In fact, I'd say its vital that this truth never sees the light of day. Que mysterioso!

You can also say that some things are discussed ad nauseum in this house. such as the request to pick up toys. I feel I have to discuss this repeatedly so that a) I am actually heard and b) someone other than ME picks up those pinche toys.

Like many a novela, it isn't always easy to get the affection we craze. Sometimes the protagonist is held back from giving his co stars a kiss or hug because train videos are just too engaging. And yet we root for the characters to find that moment when all obstacles are removed and true affection can be found. Ahhhh, amor!

Unlike American soap operas, novelas do not last forever--they last for maybe 120 episodes, and then end, to be replaced with another story. Welcome to life with autism. Last month, Ben was fascinated with dominoes and ate hot dogs. This month its bowling and a concerted effort to eat no meat. What will the next story be, I wonder.

Now we don't have orphans looking for their parents, or a family business falling apart--although that wouldn't be a surprising autism story. I've certainly seen enough fall apart. But we make a concerted effort to keep our family solid. And by solid I mean mommy has a full supply of tranquilzers liquor available.

In some ways, of course, our lives do not resemble a novela. I see no need to put on make-up, rarely wear anything other than yoga pants and an old sweatshirt, and don't talk to anyone, which certainly cuts down the potential for drama. And while there are certainly "smell a fart" acting moments in my day, for the most part I know most of my lines and am able to improv at a moment's notice.

I'm not sure I'd ever win a daytime Emmy or its Spanish equivalent, or if id even want squeeze into some spanx and go to the party to find out I lost. That money would be better spent on therapy or mixers. Or a new TV. Or a translator so I can at least find out what the hell that pendejo Ricardo is trying to keep from Consuela. You just can't trust that guy...