Monday, November 26, 2007

My Name Is Jason Lee

All through the holiday, Your Mama has quietly and patiently awaited information from our spider web of informants and connections about the English Tudor style house on Dundee Drive in the Los Feliz Hills section of Los Angeles that Mister Big Time discussed on one of his recent installments of "Which Celebrity's House Is This?"
Your Mama's sources tell us that the house (pictured above) was purchased by mustachioed My Name Is Earl actor Jason Lee. As Mister Big Time noted, the property was purchased through a trust overseen by Kevin Burke, a manager whose name appears on the property records for scads of big name Scientologists, including those of indie singer/songwriter Beck and sexy actress Catherine Bell. A quick search through the internets turns up loads of information that connects Mister Lee to the Church of Scientology as well.

Interestingly, our sources also tell us that Mister Lee and his sexy mustache will soon be moving again. Although we have yet to locate property records that show a sale, Lucy Spillerguts, one of Your Mama's finest and most prolific sources tells us that Mister Lee is the buyer for the lovely Los Feliz residence of Robert Cray that was recently on the market for $3,250,000. Located on Hill Oak Road, the nearly 1 acre property includes a modest 2,205 square foot house with 3 bedrooms and 2.5 bathrooms, a separate office/guest house and an office/studio, plenty of room for all the visiting Thetans

We can't fathom why Mister Lee would buy a house in March of 2007 and then turn around and buy a much more expensive house just six months later. But then again, who are we to make sense of the real estate machinations of the rich and famous?

27 comments:

Ms Frivolity said...

Mama clicked wildly from site to site,New York Post,TMZ,Perez Hilton.No news yet,but it was sure to come.
Aunt Mary was the first to call from her Southampton cottage with the shocking news that her dear fellow blog commenter,a man with a very shadowy past,known as so chic darling had been found dead in his art and antique filled prewar penthouse on the west side of Manhattan(He had been one the first to move into the area in the early 80s when nobody would live there)face down in a pool of his own judgemental shallowness.First reports had said that Mr Darling had been bludgeoned to death,but when the Gucci leather pea coat was lifted from his face a December issue of House & Garden magazine was found shoved into his mouth.He had literally been choked to death by good taste,and how fitting that it was the final issue!The head wounds,it turns out,were the result
of falling backwards and hitting his head on one of the patinated bronze rams heads on the corner of his Giacometti coffee table.
As yet there were no arrests,but plenty of suspects.His latin lover of many years,and twenty years his junior,had been ruled out both because he was out of the country at the time of death,at his family's compound on the only privately owned Galapagos island,and because there was no motive,he was clearly the one with the liquid wealth anyway.Mr Darling's money was made respectable by buying French Bronzes,Imari porcelain and important 20th century furniture,the Christies house sale six months later would be a sensation with hedge funders and decorators fighting for a piece of the legend.
Who would do this?He had made many enemies and was not well loved in Hollywood after insinuating on more than one occasion that the entire entertainment industry was made up of unsavory fame hungry white trash.However there was one group that wanted him dead more than anyone he had ever blown a cloud of potent marijuana smoke at,the anons.Little was know about them but they attacked out of nowhere and without warning.They wanted him dead because he knew to much.Too much about art,style,taste and evolution.Everything they were against.With him gone they were one step closer to their stated goal of complete control.Taste,what did they need with that,wasn't it just a little too east coast liberal elite or worse French?A new America of Tuscan villas,shabby chic and medicated spouses who collect lladro figurines.

Ms Frivolity said...

.........That was what they wanted and they would do anything to see that they got what they wanted.............................A bitter wind howled through the canyons of New York.Was the second gilded age over?The elites shivered in their limestone and marble aeries,the barbarians were at the gate.
Aunt Mary watched from her terrace as a flock of birds took off from the Central Park reservoir and flew east over the Carlyle Hotel.
Should she leave tonight on the last Air France flight out of JFK?The French cultural attache had said she could go in exchange for her Rothko.She looked around at her apartment she hated to leave,but she was sure that it's contents would be enough to get her staff a small farm back in El Salvador.It was only stuff after all.
With a heavy heart and her Coach bag filled with the best of her jewelry collection she closed the apartment door one last time."There are dark days ahead"she said to the gentleman from the French consulate who was waiting downstairs to escort her to the airport in an armored car.

aunt mary said...

Oh, my god, So_Chic. Those vile, filthy anons. (shaking her fist at the night sky) As god is my witness, I'll avenge you So_Chic_Darling. (Then she tore the portiers from the gallery entry and stuffed them into her oversize Coach carry-on. She knew a terrific little seamstress in the Rue Foucault who could work miracles.)

LAPD Tipster said...

The LAPD just picked up Miss Louella's houseman on suspicion of both murders. They found a notebook with the names and addresses of several Real Estalker regular posters in the trunk of his leased 2005 Mercedes S600 when it was reposessed at his modest single apartment behind a retail shop near the intersection of Sunset Blvd and Sunset Plaza Dr. Miss Louella and So Chic's names had been crossed out in red ink. Airline boarding passes were also found showing travel between LA and NY.

Anonymous said...

I'm absolutely drooling over that patio. Something about a nice brick patio with an Old English feel drives me wild.

nice gay decorator said...

Yes,but who paid him,and how much?

Anonymous said...

I have to say Mama, I'm disappointed with the way you've been updating your blog. You seem to rarely update anymore and when you do, the updates are short and boring. What happened to you? I miss the old Mama, please come back!!

Ms Frivolity said...

You have got to be fucking kidding right?What's up with the anons?Boring old farts with malice in their cold hearts.
Mama is NEVER boring do you hear me
N E V E R!Mama is one of the smartest bloggers out there and funnier than your small genitals!

lapd tipster said...

No one paid him. He allegedly has many problems. His sideline shop (Shabby Chic Decorating For Hetero Dummies) went bankrupt. His lover got fired by Jan Horn and moved back to Phoenix to live with his mother Nancy. He had been saving up to buy a Hancock Park house but would have needed a subprime mortgage because he was paying the lease payment on the benz. Britney ran over his foot and no one cared. He tried turning tricks on Santa Monica Blvd but found out Strapping Hunk has the over 60 crowd sewn up. Despondent and broke, he turned to who he thought was an old friend, Louella. She hired him to scrub her toilets and wash skid marks from her delicates. When she demanded sexual favors (involving a Jeff Stryker dildo found at the crime scene), he snapped.

jaded old queen said...

Things are getting interesting.Before we go any further let me just say one thing,on the night of Mr Darlings murder I was with Oscar De la Renta at his palace in the Dominican Republic.Louella was not in the class of people that I know and I rarely visit Los Angeles anyway.

jaded old queen said...

by the way anon 7.02 am,an old English feel drives me wild too!I've had many a wild night at my Knightsbridge flat!

Sandpiper said...

The houseman, formerly nicknamed Peaches by his "roommate" of five years, two months twelve days, and six hours, was twirling in new-found freedom. Recently paroled and tethered, he snapped up a combo retail space --slash apartment. Soon, his little boutique was brimming with Pacific-rim Hummels, Mexican armor, basket upon basket of fake ivy, and pot racks. His wildest dream (or a close second) to become house staging supplier to the stars, now a reality. The conveniently attached apartment (former bootleg kitchen for knock off fragrances sold on cable), dotted the quill-penned "I” on his fresh start. But, he did not anticipate the insatiable demand for his wares. He could not keep up. Flooded with orders from County Line to the boarder, he had exhausted the global inventory of silk ivy baskets. Desperate, he started to double book. It caught up with him. His reputation tanked. Now bankrupted, it was plan B or bust. Thanks to a job tip from his old Salsa partner, Anon-zeo, he reinvented himself as Mr. Lucky, Luella’s new houseman. But his biggest stoke of fortune, if you can call it that, was that his very being was so repugnant that prison guards waived him through strip searches. His wooden leg had gone undetected. The tether was moot.

LAPD tipster said...

Hmmmm..... Here it is... I thought I saw it.. On page 12, "jaded old queen". You were on the list right after "old hag in a house".

anonypuss said...

do scientologists get to own anything ?

Those see-lebritees are getting FLEECED!

Hollywood was never known for "smart" money however.

Sure...there's lots of money...but it's as dumb as it comes.

cher said...

yeah sandpiper I got burned so bad by that mother,he had two of my pear paintings on consignment.I never got a fucking dime!

jaded old queen said...

Murder,money,power, dreadful furniture,bad hair and the wrong shoes.Mama reduces the whole sordid LA scene into a delicious sauce for the children to consume.
Thanks Mama this is not boring!

lapd tipster said...

cher,

Contact Aaron Schwartz-Schmitz at 310-555-4321. He is "Peaches" former landlord and has your pears. They were being used as window coverings in the back of the apartment.

staging lady with a toyota said...

He had my pear painting too and a pier one breakfast tray.I need them back!

old hag in a house said...

I didn't do it,they're going to get me next.I need protection.HELP!

lapd tipster said...

staging lady, "peaches" was using the tray to catch the engine oil drips from the benz. not much use anymore unless your toyota has a similar oil leak. don't know what came of the other pear painting but you can be sure it ain't in one of ellen's houses.

Anonymous said...

Old Hag,

They're coming to take you away ha ha They're coming to take you away ho ho They're coming to take you away he he ha ha ho ho to the funny farm...

Then your house will be fluffed, staged, flipped and Jan Horn will make enough to take another trip to the Greek Isles

Sandpiper said...

Old Hag is hiding in the secret recess of my newly-completed Louie XIV bed chamber. It was a bitch to get transported and installed with six-hour notice, but Old Hag has needs to be met.

http://www.chateauversailles.fr/images/oeildeboeuf3-v.jpg

Thank goodness my brand new and highly QT pink penthouse on W. 11th could facilitate this nasty musty smelling pile of guilded lumber.
Aunt Mary's safely here too, with her lap dogs -- yes, plural, and un-housebroken -- plus her huge Coach tote, which I swear is ticking. She wants to freshen up and retire. But first, she states a request for lite fare from the pizza joint next to the Ed Sullivan theatre, delivered and hand-fed by some guy named Dave. I negotiated an extra tip, so he's bring a BAND.
I induldge all of this because I love them so.
Children, please know we are safe and please do not try to find us. We are under the matresses (is that the right terminology?). And don't worry, a bag of Indian food left-overs was just delivered for breakfast. Until our next missive, mimosas in spirit, lite on the orange juice.
Eee-gads, Ms. Frovality just walked in with a super cutie LAPD character tricked out in an old scruffy Burberry trench coat (circa 1980 I swear). They want to play Marco-Polo on the unfinished lower floors. I'm just one woman but I induldge, because they're family. I love them.
Who's honking downstairs. It's a Toyota. Oh~ buzz sister in.

Dr Qui said...

Greetings once again from my Hong Kong office.As a leading dealer in Chinese antiques I was overjoyed to receive Aunt Mary's Rose Canton punch bowl.Believe me when I tell you that Aunt Mary's staff have been well taken care of.
Pieces of this size and quality from the 1830s are rare to find in perfect condition and although made only for export at the time,now many new Chinese businessmen seek to buy them back.

LAPD tipster said...

sandpiper, watch out... that Toyota is a trojan horse!!

Who is that climbing out of the trunk.. Lord have mercy, it's Joan Collins and Linda Evans. Now the sh*t is really going to hit the fan!

Anonymous said...

She leans forward to look out the window as the limo slows in front of the modest home. Her assistant fidgets nervously, not knowing what to expect next.

The house reminds her of the houses of her poor relatives in the midwest. Flower boxes with half dead plants, a cracked sidewalk, and faded paint. She can tell the house was once an attractive little craftsman but the years of muddling and neglect have taken their toll. The tacky door with the brass trim and eched flowers, the cheap Home Depot garage door sagging on one side. She hasn't even been inside but she knows this id going to be tough.

The market had slowed to where she was even willing to talk to these losers. They had been fighting to get the old lady out for over a year. Her assistant got the call yesterday that the old woman had vanished and the heirs weren't wasting any time getting the property ready to sell.

If she had a heart, she would wonder what happened to the old woman but she needed money and they apparently had some. As she stepped from the car, she heard a neighbor call out "Where's the old hag?"

Bruce said...

So this is where all the writer's who are on strike are honing their craft. Great stories!!

Anonymous said...

She settles back into the limo. It wasn't easy walking through the house with the heirs and pretending she could do something with the place. "White Trash" she thinks to herself as she snaps her fingers for the assistant to make her martini. Little does the assistant know this is her last job function. She will be fired as soon as they get back to the office.

The heirs have seen too many HGTV shows and think they are going to get the house redone for under $2000. She checks her cellphone for the number to Shabby Chic Decorating For Hetero Dummies and presses "send". The number is disconnected. She wonders what happened to Joe. He was just an average guy who was her assistant for two weeks in 2005. She fired him for suggesting "Tuscany Style" to Cher. But unlike the many other assistants she had fired over the years, she stayed in touch with Joe because his drag character "Peaches" ammused her.

Just then the limo hits a pothole on Sunset and her martini spills on the carpet. She snaps twice for another.