DJ AM's Beverly Hills House Hits the Market

SELLER: DJ AM
LOCATION: Anthony Place, Beverly Hills, CA
PRICE: $3,795,000
SIZE: 3,375 square feet, 4 bedrooms, 4.5 bathrooms
DESCRIPTION: Private and gated mid-century located on a cul-de-sac street with canyon and city views, rich mahogany floors, custom built-in theater, Crestron system and flat screen TV's throughout, two-sided fireplace, office, large kitchen with stainless steel appliances and carrerra marble countertops, four bedrooms and 4 and one-half baths, open floor plan looks out to lushly landscaped backyard with pool and spa.

YOUR MAMAS NOTES: It was only in late August of 2009 that Adam Goldstein–better known as DJ AM–was found dead of an accidental drug overdose in his New York City apartment. The formerly fat celebrity DJ battled both weight and drug addiction in his youth, but had slimmed down and been sober for well over ten years before slipping down the sad and slippery slope of crack cocaine in the days before his death. Some reports have speculated that AM picked up the pipe because he was all kinds of broken up over his alleged bust up with model Hayley Wood. Other reports speculate that AM was still saddled with the weighty psychological residue of the September 2008 Learjet crash which killed four people and left AM and his friend/collaborator Travis Barker seriously injured. Whatever the reasons, the celebrity spinner was well-liked by all those who knew him, including Your Mama who became friendly–but not friends–with AM after we dished on the purchase of his house in Beverly Hills, CA back in April of 2007.

It is this house, located way up in the Hills of Beverly on Anthony Place we would like to discuss again because it was recently listed–presumably by the executor of his estate–with an asking price of $3,795,000. Property records and a little inside information from a Beverly Hills real estate insider indicates to Your Mama that the single story residence was purchased by AM in June of 2006. This was just before he and Nicole Richie broke up and before he took up with actress Mandy Moore. Property records and information provided to Your Mama by our Beverly Hills real estate insider reveals AM forked over $3,225,000 for the approximately 3,375 square foot residence.

At the time of the purchase, the walled and gated residence had been renovated but it appears to Your Mama that AM made a few aesthetic tweaks to both the interior and the exterior which included some new landscaping at the front of the house and around the swimming pool and wrapping wood around the top portion of the double sided fireplace in the living room.

The glass front door opens to the entrance hall which leads to the main living space, comprised of an open plan living/dining area with gorgeous, shiny mahogany floors, a flat screen tee-vee mounted above the fireplace and wood framed sliding doors that open to the pool terrace. The large eat-in kitchen has a built in breakfast table, mac-daddy appliances including an 6-burner Viking range with a griddle, and sleek, and flat fronted chocolate brown cabinetry topped by Carrara marble counter tops. Not the most practical choice those counter tops, but golly they look nice, don't they?

AM's home office, located off the entrance hall at the front of the house, shares the double sided fireplace with the living room and includes a full wall of book shelves and another wall mounted flat screen tee-vee. The custom built theater has been outfitted with a gigantic movie screen, a chocolate brown coffered ceiling, cocoa colored suede walls and seven very plush looking chocolate brown reclining leather seats.

A long hallway lined with built in bookshelves along one side leads to the bedrooms, each of which appears to have a private pooper. The modestly sized master suite, which has custom fitted closets where AM probably kept at least some of his 600+ pairs of sneakers, has been decorated in various shades of brown and beige and includes more of those amazing mahogany floors and a muscular, clean-lined bed with an upholstered headboard, overhead lighting and a thick cabinet at the foot of the bed out of which glides a flat screen tee-vee at the touch of the button. We don't have any idea what AM watched on his tee-vee while lounging in his bed, but we always think of these sorts of boob-toobs that rise mysteriously from the foot of the bed as being a porn fanatics dream tee-vee.

The back of the house opens to the wee back yard which has a small, multi-sided swimming pool, a spa and long views down the canyons, over the city of Beverly Hills and towards the towers of Century City. More photos of AM's crisp and clean hideaway can be seen here.

With the blessing of AM's family, MTV decided to begin post-humously air the 8-episode Intervention-like reality tee-vee program called Gone Too Far that AM wrapped just days before his death. The program, hosted by AM, began airing on October 12 and focuses on the lives and struggles of young addicts.

Property records reveal that the New York City condo where DJ AM died–located on the 7th floor of a glassy Richard Gluckman designed building on Lafayette Street–was purchased by the super successful scratcher in November of 2007 for $1,995,000. The apartment is not currently listed for sale on the open market, but Your Mama has to assume it won't be long before that place is also put up for sale.

RIP DJ AM.

Lisa Marie Presley Lists Hidden Hills Hideaway

SELLER: Lisa Marie Presley

LOCATION: Long Valley Road, Hidden Hills, CA
PRICE: $8,995,000
SIZE: 8,000 square feet, 5 bedrooms, 5.5 bathrooms
DESCRIPTION: Beautifully & extensively remodeled & expanded in the exclusive guard-gated community of Hidden Hills is this 8,000 SF sprawling ranch home on over 3 acres of lush rolling lawns w/ orchards. In addition to the main house, consisting of 5 bdrms. 5.5 baths, this private complex also features 3 separate guest quarters, pool/spa w/ waterfall, barns/tack rooms & extensive extra parking. The home backs up to the Santa Monica Conservancy/Ahmanson Ranch which ensures privacy.

YOUR MAMAS NOTES: Listen chickens, Your Mama and our boozy friend Fiona Trambeau been hunkered down the last few days at Chow and B.B. Lee's colorful house in pleasantly progressive Minneapolis, MN. We've walked along the shore of the mighty Mississippi, marveled at The Guthrie, ate too much meat at Brassa and handed out mountains of candy to children dressed like mermaids and Minnie Mouses. But it's time to wing our way back west to the Dr. Cooter, our long bodied bitches Linda and Beverly, our mean ol' pussy Sugar, and our insolent house gurl Svetlana which means we're going to spend the better part of today sitting in airports and airplanes working the signs of the cross like nobody's bizness hoping we don't come down with the damn swine flu. And we're not even Catholic or religious but that swine crap has us all kinds of irrationally petrified. Anyhoo, given our circumstances, we need be brief which, as the children know, ain't easy for Your Mama who tend to prefer a more circuitous and long winded route.

Over the weekend, Your Mama received a covert communique from a gentleman we'll call Fernando San Fernando who kindly told Your Mama off that singer/songwriter Lisa Marie Presley, the only daughter of the King of Rock and Roll and the ex-wife of the King of Pop–not to mention the ex-wife of actor Nic Cage and two other men–has listed her house in horsey Hidden Hills, CA with an asking price of $8,995,000. Within minutes we were able to obtain a listing–two listings, actually–for the estate. However, since first discussing the property we were contacted by a representative of Missus Presley Keough Jackson Cage Lockwood who tells us that the Princess of Rock and Roll "never authorized the images of her property to be posted on the MLS service or anywhere else. In fact, the piece of property is not currently for sale." We'll have to take him at his word on that and assume someone screwed up big time. None the less...

Property records show that the four-times married celebrity Scientologist purchased her 3.14 acre, two-parcel compound located behind the gates of the star studded Hidden Hills community in December of 1993. The larger parcel with the main house was bought for $2,600,000 and the smaller one, according to property records, was scooped up for $625,000. This was shortly after her 25th birthday when she became the sole remaining heir to her late and great father's estate and an extraordinarily rich woman in control of an expanding empire that includes Graceland, her famous and wildly decorated childhood home in Memphis, TN. Missus Missus Presley Keough Jackson Cage Lockwood sold the Elvis Presley estate–minus Graceland and the surrounding property, her father's famous cars and other personal effects–to media mogul Robert F.X. Sillerman in 2004 for a reported "$53 million in cash, $22 million in stock in Sillerman's new company, and the assumption of $25 million in debt."

The unauthorized listing information, which is no longer available on the MLS, indicates that in addition to a main house that measures approximately 8,000 square feet with 4 bedrooms and 5.5 poopers, Missus Presley Keough Jackson Cage Lockwood's Long Valley Road compound also has 3 separate guest quarters, one of which is reportedly occupied by musician Danny Keough, her first huzband and the baby daddy of two of her four off-spring. Property records, on the other hand, show a main house that measures 7,077 square feet with 4 bedrooms and 5 poopers and a second residence–located on a separate but adjacent parcel–that measures 2,842 square feet with 4 bedrooms and 3 poopers. Your Mama does not know why these discrepancies exist and we're too tired and short of time to sort it all out. Suffice to say she's got a big ol' house with a good number of bedrooms and bathrooms and several guest houses with a good number more. Listing photos of the compound can still be be found here and here.

The main portion of the property includes a long, gated driveway, a parking lot sized motor court plus loads of additional parking, rolling lawns, a free form swimming pool and spa with a water fall and a water slide built in to a tumble of rocks (that Your Mama hopes are real rocks and not those horrid faux-stone things), numerous patios, terraces and covered porches and two of the three guest cottages, one on each end of the long house. The adjacent property, which has its own address, is accessed from Eldorado Meadow Road and includes a large guest house with its own swimming pool, a large deck and stables. As far as Your Mama can tell by our completely unscientific overhead surveillance, the two properties are only connected through a couple of gates in the long fence that separates the properties. According to a well connected source with intimate knowledge of all things Hidden Hills whom we'll call H.H. Tonguewagger, Missus Presley Keough Jackson Cage Lockwood is the only resident granted permission for a private security fence around her property. Apparently, according to H.H. Tonguewagger, the Hidden Hills by-laws or Home Owners Association–or whatever they have there–do not allow driveway gates or privacy/security fences on individual properties.

No longer available listing photos show that Missus Presley Keough Jackson Cage Lockwood does not share the same affection for carpeted kitchens, ceramic monkies, stained glass peacocks, and fur covered couches and in basement jungle rooms as her father did. Instead we find a dignified and expensive looking country style with antique rugs, a glossy grand piano and a car-sized crystal chandelier mixed with masculine leather sofas and chairs in the large wood beamed living room and a floral upholstered armchair and ottoman paired with a massive (mahogany?) bed, another car-sized crystal chandelier and dainty Louis the XV or XVI–or whatever–giltwood chairs and settees in the wood floored and vaulted beamed ceiling master bedroom. A long bridge-like hallway runs spine-like the length of the house on the second floor with clerestory window on two sides and a floral print runner on the wood floors.

The kitchen has multi-colored cabinetry with some sort of faux finish paint treatment with kooky boo-kays of flowers painted on to each of the upper cabinet doors as well as on the full sized fridge and freezers. This country style femininity in the cooker room isn't exactly what Your Mama would have expected from a woman who we think of as a little butch (in the best sense of the word), but there it is, in full color.

Your Mama assumes that Missus Presley Keough Jackson Cage Lockwood has chosen to sell–or at least vacate–her long time California compound because she's decided, according to recent reports, to relocate to the U.K. with her fourth huzband Michael Lockwood and their newly hatched twins.

Other notable residents of the Hidden Hills community include but are not limited to Ozzy and Sharon Osbourne, Beverly Mitchell (she of 7th Heaven fame), and Melissa Etheridge and her ladee-mate Tammy Michaels.

It's not apparent to Your Mama if Missus Presley Keough Jackson Cage Lockwood owns any other residences in the U-nited States besides her maybe for sale maybe not for sale Hidden Hills compound, but we do know that her mother, the formerly fabulous but unfortunately surgefied and illegally injected Priscilla Presley who was recently rumored to be "swapping spit" with toothy British tee-vee producer Nigel Lythgoe (So You Think You Can Dance), lives in a sprawling house on Summit Drive in Beverly Hills, CA.

Now then, it's time to squeeze Fiona into her spandex traveling suit and get her to the airport where her customary and embarrassing demand for a cavity search will likely hold us up in security for at least an hour.

Dilfyland.

For Halloween, this year, I visited the Dilfy Resort in Anaheim, mostly to see the Halloween attractions at Dilfyland, like this big Mick O'Lantern on Main Street.

What? "Disneyland"? Well yes; that's what I used to call it, but I have changed its name to Dilfyland. Why? Because the place was full of prize DILFs. What is a DILF? Well, the first letter stands for "Dads". Yes, a DILF is a "Dad I'd Like to Fool-around-with-naked."

Dilfyland this last Friday was packed with DILFs, sadly, all dragging around one to five noisy rugrats, often pushing some in strollers. Single, or at least childless, hot men were in short supply. How is a grown man supposed to enjoy riding on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride or The Many Adventures of Winnie-the-Pooh if he's stuck with kids? They ruin it!

I was seated next to a particularly adorable DILF on the Finding Nemo submarine ride. He had this two year old boy with him, and the boy just wasn't having it. He kept complaining all through the ride, "Fish don't talk!" He didn't know much, but he knew fish don't talk. You'd think his DILF could have explained to him that I'm not a fish, I just smell like that sometimes in a closed environment like a submarine, or whenever I'm going down. The boy would look at me, and then hide his eyes in his hands. His DILF would say, "Where's Jack? I can't see Jack!" and he gave me a weird look when I helpfully piped in with, "Well, Jack's usually at a Laker's game."

When I'd had enough of the little brat, whom his DILF had seated between he and I, where the boy was very much in the way, I tried pointing out that toad's don't drive motorcars, birds don't sing words, and the flowers don't croon, so when at Dilfyland, why carp about singing carp? But little Jack wasn't buying it. Fish don't talk! On the good side, if he stays this hard-headed, religion will have a hard time sinking its filthy claws into him.

There was a really distasteful spectacle around 9:20 PM, in and over Fantasyland. Let me put it this way. Mickey needs to watch his diet and mind his manners, because when he lights his farts, it's spectacular, but I could hear even Mel Brooks saying, "That's in questionable taste."

Along with DILFs, there was also a lot of MODs. Those are Morbidly Obese Dads. The MODs were almost always accompanied by moms who were MOMs. How these paired porkers ever managed to get their genitalia close enough to each other to spawn their hoards of MOKs is a mystery to me, but I'll bet it always occurred in extremely dark rooms.

Actually, Dilfyland is a good place for MODs, MOMs, and MOKs, as the food is so extremely expensive that they can't possibly afford to gain any more weight while there. For the price of a hamburger, a coke, and fries, you can buy an annual pass to the park. And you can't buy alcohol at all! Some Happiest Place on Earth.

Is Halloween scary at Dilfyland? Well, when you're about to ride "Soarin' Over California" in California Dilfy Adventure, and a 350 pound MOD sits down next to you, with his 300 pound MOM and their gigantic children, while the ride attendants use a crowbar to pry their flab away from over the safety belt buckle long enough to fasten it, it becomes very scary indeed. The whole row sagged when we took off next to these ginormous human slugs. Who knew Jabba the Hut and his family vacationed at the Dilfy Resort? On the other hand, when there's a family of the morbidly obese in your bobsled, you shoot down the Matterhorn much faster! We were even passing bobsleds on the same track we were on! (I'm told there were survivors.)

After riding Ghost Galaxy (Space Mountian with a Halloween overlay, although I don't see how one can ever be over-laid!) with gross fatties, Jack Skellington in the Haunted Mansion is small potatoes. Say what you will about Jack, he's skinny!

The guests at the Dilfy Resort were almost too polite! I was in the parks for 12 hours, and not once did anyone ask me for an autograph! True, I was "incognito," but that just meant I didn't have Little Dougie walking ahead of me shouting "Make way for Miss Tallulah Morehead, the Nearly-Living Legend" through a bullhorn. (The security people confiscated the bullhorn at the park entrance. Some excuse about "noise pollution," whatever that means.) Oh, I got recognized once, but somehow a man saying "Wow! You stink worse than your films!" isn't what I had in mine. How can I announce in a lordly manner "No autographs today! I'm just a touristy nonentity like all you nobodies." if no one asks for one?

And then there was the kid who, on seeing me exiting the Haunted Mansion (so reminiscent of my own palatial home, Morehead Heights), shouted "Hey look! One of the robot spooks got loose!" That kid found himself swimming in the Rivers of America but fast.

But beware of some false promises there. One sign proclaimed I could ride "Big Thunder." That sounded like my kind of a good time, but when I got there, it was just a roller coaster in Bryce Canyon. When I go on a "Jungle Cruise," I expect large black men to be lining up to violate me. All this had was a lot of robotic animals, though the Woody Strode androids were all kind of hot. And the young man piloting our jungle boat wasn't so much Humphrey Bogart, as an African Queen. Well, he was white, so he was more of an Anaheim Queen.

At least when I rode "Dumbo," he was hung like an elephant!

For "Trick or Treat," they played quite a good trick on everyone. Although Dilfyland stayed open until midnight, with the big shows, Mickey's Sky Farts, and in Frontierland, out on the river, the extravaganza called Orgasmic, all in the night time, the park next door, California Dilf Adventure, closed at 6 PM, so everyone who was in that park came over into Dilfyland to see Orgasmic and watch Mickey light his farts. Suddenly it was so crowded, you could barely stagger around the park. I didn't mind getting pressed up against the DILFs, but getting pressed into the MODs was no fun at all, and impossible to avoid.

California Dilf Adventure's primary function is to give you a place to get away from the crowds. They have shorter lines than EuroDisney! That's not to say that there's nothing any fun there. I enjoyed Soarin', and I loved riding California Screamin', which the ride operator ever-so-kindly allowed me to ride without using the dress-crushing safety restraints. After all, restraint is not something I have ever been known for, either in life or on screen.

And as for scary Halloween decor, the big Ferris wheel, Mickey's Fun Wheel, had had attached to it the terrifying visage of The Giant Rat of Sumatra, the biggest and most-vicious rodent in the world!

So all told, if cruisin' DILFs is your idea of a good time, Dilfyland is the place to go. As I said to one very hot DILF, when he asked me if I'd like to ride Splash Mountain: "If you'll do the mountin', I'll do the ridin', and we can both splash out!" His rather odd reply was; "Security!!!"


How can it be "The Happiest Place on Earth" if I can't get a drink or a tumble from a hot DILF?


Speaking of which, from my last visit, here I am in The Tragic Kingdom with the hottest DILF on earth, whose son is wisely showing fear of The Giant Rat of Sumatra.

Just a quick reminder. I am sill flogging Survivor: Samoa over on The Huffington Post. Here's a photo of me over on Samoa. Allow me to correct a silly misinterpretation of this picture. Several people have thought that in this picture, Rocket Scientist John, and my Future Ex-Husband Jaison are fleeing from me as fast as they can. Such nonsense. I'd mentioned that my cocktail was nearly finished, and they are racing each other to get me a fresh vodka martini. Such sweet boys.

Anyway, my latest posting there is titled Here's to the Pirates Who Lunch. Read and enjoy.

Cheers darlings.