January 27, 2012
Los Angeles at night
Posted by laurie at 1:15 PM
January 23, 2012
Raindrops keep falling on my head
I love rainy days in Los Angeles. The building next door has tin rain gutters and the sound is surprisingly comforting, like soft southern rain on a barn roof. The bathroom in the hallway has a skylight and the pattering rain there sounds nice, too, though fainter. I amuse myself on rainy days by going to the grocery store and watching people straggle in wearing their pajamas and Ugg boots. There hasn't been much of that lately, though. Since last June we've only had four inches of rain. Today was a nice change, maybe it will rain some more tonight.
Other things I like: working (and existing) databases, Noro with no knots, writing dialogue, talking to Corey, Meyer lemons, the new season of American Idol, Nailtique.
I would ask you what's on your list today but of course comments are still off during the software upgrade. So save up your list for next week! Or of course you can hit me on the tweetermachine in your pajamas, rain or shine.
Posted by laurie at 3:34 PM
January 12, 2012
Bold
Oh Magique! Are you a stripper? A sparkling body spray? A purveyor of magic tricks? A master of disguise? So many questions! So little time at the red light.
Posted by laurie at 2:11 PM | Comments (32)
January 11, 2012
I learned to Dougie, and other signs the world may indeed be ending.
Last night I went to a hip hop dance class at a local studio. This is part of my effort to get out of my house at night instead of staying home alone with my boyfriend, Tivo. He loves me ... but he will still be there later, waiting for me to un-pause him and love him back.
The hip hop class consisted of all good dancers and me. It was highlarious. Surprisingly it was one of the most intense aerobic experiences I have had in a long time, largely because I was trying to keep up with the class while also reigning in control of my flailing limbs which refused to move to the music. Plus I learned to Dougie*. (When I got home my phone was ringing, March of 2011 called and they want their moves back.)
I loved the class. Also, I believe the class loved me. Every class enjoys having one person who is so bad it makes them look like Beyonce. I know it. You know it. And now I am bringing that joy to so many new people.
This time last year I would have cut off my left ear all crazy painter style before venturing out alone on a school night to some hip hop bootyshaking class in the valley. So, yeah, I haven't exactly reached the pinnacle of enlightenment yet but I can now Dougie. Progress, people.
- - -
Seen on the boulevard:
Pink hummer! Palm trees! Swimming pools and movie stars!
- - -
* and *
Teach yourself how to Dougie, or watch the Glee version.
Posted by laurie at 7:11 AM | Comments (65)
January 3, 2012
This day, this crazy summer (January) day.
It's just another Chamber of Commerce day here in Los Angeles, the sky is bright blue and the sun is shining and it's 82 degrees. Winter warmth is completely unlike summertime heat. In the middle of summer the heat is just aggressive and it seeps into the concrete but in the wintertime a warm day like today feels perfect. Also, I just wrote an entire blissful paragraph about the weather so I have officially turned into my parents. Later let's have a scotch and watch some Fox News.
Anyway, I can appreciate the weather today because I was finally well-rested. Last night we had a reprieve from the window-rattling sound of helicopters constantly flying overhead and I actually got some sleep. My building sits right in the middle of the disturbing fire path set by the arsonist and everyone was on edge in the neighborhood. The sound of sirens and helicopters all night long for four nights in a row didn't help. The fires were scary.
When the news showed footage of the mad arsonist being arrested in Hollywood you could see his face, at one point he turned and smiled for the cameras like he was on a particularly sick episode of TMZ. The first thing I thought when I saw that look on his face was, "I don't know what he's guilty of, but that dude is guilty of something."
My neighbors and I have never really talked much, when you live in a crowded city in a crowded building and you share walls and guest parking spots and laundry facilities, you tend to keep your fences high. But during the unsettling nights of the arson spree everyone kept looking out the windows into the parking area, waving at each other across the alley. The opera guy in the building next door gave me a thumbs up sign one night around 3 a.m., when sirens were streaming past the building and two helicopters were hovering overhead. It was oddly comforting to see opera man's little sign of solidarity.
So today was a really good day, beautiful and sunny and clear. On my walk this morning I passed a plainclothes policeman (just like on TV!) wearing jeans and a T-shirt with his badge on a chain around his neck. He was checking the garage of a building nearby. When he heard my footsteps he looked up quickly.
"Good morning," I said, gave a little wave as we passed.
"Good morning," he said.
Then I heard him say quietly, "It is a good morning."
Posted by laurie at 4:10 PM | Comments (61)
January 1, 2012
Pictures of New Year's Day
What you see when you look up:
What you see when you look down:
Posted by laurie at 4:08 PM | Comments (42)
November 17, 2011
Barfly
Chicago is a bar town. San Francisco, New York, they're all bar towns because you can have that one extra drink, there's a subway, cabs are nearby. Los Angeles has all the mechanical charm of the suburbs, stretched out end-to-end for a thousand miles and everyone is in a car. It is not a bar town.
Yet all across the Valley floor you will find the corner pocket is filled with a dive bar. When I first moved here and I was at the Daily News, reporters would congregate at a dive in Sherman Oaks called Pineapple Hill. The bar is still there, and still only bearable because of its proximity to In-n-Out Burger. Back then everyone smoked indoors and we would order pitchers of beer and baskets of fries and wonder if we were all writing about other people as a way to avoid writing about anything real.
Reporters.
Later when I was with Mr. X we would visit the Tonga Hut or the Starlight Lounge, part of our modern-day Nick and Nora L.A. lifestyle. I loved the jukebox, I adored the long, polished wood bars with rings stained in the grain. I liked sitting in a dimly lit room with a cast of characters nearby. I would sometimes eavesdrop. All the best stories are at the end of a tab somewhere in the Valley.
As a single woman now I don't go to dive bars anymore. The story changes then, doesn't it? Becomes a lurid tale, maybe with an unhappy ending fit for the headlines. Instead I am at the grocery store or the gym or more likely I am just walking and living outside the world, outside looking in.
Last night my friend D. was in town and he took me to a local pub and we had Newcastle on tap and chatted friendly with the Blue Moon beer gals. D. is in the trade, his company distributes the alcohol to the bars and pubs and dives, as he says, "I'm in the booze delivery business." He's conflicted about it, an enterprise I never think about, the logistics of pleasure. We sat at the local pub and ate bad chicken strips and visited with Molly and Ashley, the Blue Moon beer girls.
"How do they make money?" I asked him later, as they were off smiling and working a customer.
"Twenty-five bucks an hour," he said. "It's customer conversion. They all think it's their ticket to Hollywood."
"Is it?" I ask. The girls are so young and lovely and friendly, and as soon as they recognize D. is in the business the relationship changes, they aren't on the sell, they're real people and they're just hungry. Everyone has a job to do.
"I don't know," he shrugs. "Maybe they think it will make them into someone."
"Maybe they're already someone."
Later I tell him about a dive nearby, a hole-in-the-wall I've never gone into. I pass it on my morning walks and at 6 a.m. you see rumpled drunks stumbling out the doors. For Los Angeles it's unusual, this town likes its veneer and an Irish pub serving eye-openers on the boulevard is unseemly. We pass it and he laughs at me.
"Oh no way you are getting out of this, we're going in," he says.
"I'll need a full decontamination shower afterward," I say in protest.
"You can't make me look into the abyss and not have a sample," he says. And no one can argue with that logic.
He orders our drinks and we settle in on the smarmy couches under the flat screen. From this spot we have a view of the whole bar. There's a pretty girl of perhaps 25 who is very intoxicated, she keeps asking men to dance with her. To our left a dark-haired woman is alone in a booth with a laptop -- this is Los Angeles, after all. Someone is legally obligated to be working on a screenplay nearby. Two men play darts. It's early still, and the bar is just beginning to spar.
D. watches the young woman at the bar swaying with the music and trying to dance with someone, she finds a young man who will tangle with her but he loses steam midway through the song. She drapes her arm across another man, the young man's friend. He smiles but his body says he's wary. He leans out.
She isn't dressed sexy and suggestively like other girls at the bar. Our girl is in faded jeans, a white tank, with a plaid shirt buttoned over the top. Her hair is long and curly and wild and she seems lost like a puppy, looking for affection. She stands alone at the bar for a moment and sways along to the music by herself.
I want to watch this out to its inevitable end. But D. is tired and needs to get a move on and has to drive all the way back to the beach. And anyway he's not as interested in the outcome. He's seen it all before. He says I'm too optimistic.
But I want to know what happens. Does she go home with him? Does she find a man for the night? How does it play out in the end, do they leave the bar hand-in-hand, does she tell herself she loves him? How does a woman love anyone here, herself included? I want to know what happens to her, I want to believe there is an ending I'll appreciate.
Instead I go home and I don't get the answers. Los Angeles isn't a bar town.
Posted by laurie at 10:54 PM | Comments (722)
The building of dreams
I live in the building of dreams. I did not know this when I moved in, of course, I thought it was just another Los Angeles box with bad countertops but it was move-in ready and I needed a place yesterday so I signed the lease.
After a few months it became clear that I had stumbled into a little pocket of the city where everyone has a budget and a dream. The building itself is squat and bland and is surrounded on all sides by equally generic apartment buildings. The neighborhood straddles the space just between the Valley and Hollywood. It's the building of dreams. Location is everything and parking sucks.
The hippie downstairs is a musician and he walks home from gigs with his guitar on his back and a new girl on his arm. He's got wild, unruly hair and wears sandals, but every night he has a new love interest. When he's entertaining he plays Old Crow Medicine Show and you know it's on. A few weeks back he was entertaining an older woman -- perhaps my age -- and his lovin' music was Pink Floyd's "The Wall." I appreciate a man who adapts.
The pretty lesbian in 2B is a stand-up comic. She does shows in North Hollywood and once appeared in a club in Calabassas, and her girlfriend is an actress. There's an actor next door, he drives a Prius and wears plaid and we often pass in the garage, he has a face made for the big screen with wide, high cheekbones and a perfectly straight nose.
It's not just this building, the whole neighborhood is a block of dreams, my neighbor in the building next door sits out on his patio with a pack of New Spirits and a bottle of wine and pitches endless scripts to unknown listeners. He's hilarious, what he lacks in creativity he makes up for in charm and enthusiasm. He could sell ice to an Eskimo. I love the nights when the weather is mild enough to keep my windows open, and I listen to him talk on the phone and pitch his future.
There's a woman I've never seen who lives in the building across the alley. I wouldn't be able to pick her from a lineup but I can hear her every day, she sings in the shower and she's loud and her voice is so pure you wish she'd just get a record deal already.
Los Angeles is a hard city at times, superficial and extreme and lonely. But my God it's hopeful, filled with desires, and this is a town where you can change your life. Everyone here wants something. This is where you come to make your wild ideas spring into reality so the whole city vibrates with a feeling of longing and desire and possibility.
And dreams, of course.
Posted by laurie at 12:51 PM | Comments (206)
October 31, 2011
That's his Halloween ride
Seen on the 101 North:
License plate says GOTH SUV.
Posted by laurie at 12:22 AM
October 6, 2011
That is not the poster I would have picked ...
Posted by laurie at 4:10 PM | Comments (717)
October 5, 2011
Today's forecast: Puddles and frizz and DOOM
STORM WATCH 2011 is ON!!
Rain in early October is the Los Angeles equivalent of snow on Spring Break in the deep south. Everyone looks homeless including me, it's an unspoken citywide rule that on rainy days you get to suspend normal operations and wear all your scrummiest clothes at one time. Plus it's COLD! For those of you not familiar with the vernacular, cold is anything under 67 degrees. It was 52 degrees this morning in the Hollywood Hills! That's just crazytalk.
Of course, people in other parts of the country get a good laugh over Los Angeles "cold." It's the same way we feel when you complain about "traffic" or "high gas prices." Everything is relative, and in this relatively warm and sunny spot of the map we don't expect to see a 52-degree morning until a cold snap in December.
There has been a lot of snuggling happening in the city:
And this morning I went on a walk in the rain thus proving I have either fully committed to exercise or need to be fully committed. Having never deliberately walked outdoors in the rain I wasn't sure what to wear, so I zipped on my big, oversized sweatshirt hoodie and got on the road.
This was a big, oversized mistake. By the time I was midway through my walk I was soaked all the way through and my clothes had become larger, heavier and longer. It did have the fascinating side effect of allowing me to re-create what it was like to exercise back when I was ten pounds heavier, though. By the time I got home I was thoroughly exhausted from carting all those wet clothes around, including a hoodie/sponge that now weighed fifteen times its normal heft.
But I lived to tell the tale and make fun of myself, and really, is there anything better?
There may be one thing better:
Rainy days and greenies always make me smile.
Posted by laurie at 10:07 AM | Comments (988)
September 30, 2011
Worth it
Although my back hurts and I sometimes get bored or it's hot or I have some other excuse, I still get up in the mornings and go for a daily walk. Getting in shape the "sensible" way is kind of a slog after a few weeks, so you can imagine that after a year (plus some) there are days when I feel less than inspired to burn another 200 calories on the pavement.
But this is Los Angeles and it's fall TV season and the whole city has become one big film set. So on my morning walks now I pass at least three or four outdoor sets every day. Sometimes I see the actors but usually I see the grips and PAs and teamsters and craft services folks milling around.
This morning, however, I walked so close to Taye Diggs that I could have literally leaned a bit to the left and covered him with my lovin' body. He is more physically perfect than any one person should be allowed to be all at one time. I am sure I impressed him in my track pants and grubby Run DMC T-shirt and my awesome white girl VISOR. (But how else to keep the freckles at bay?)
On the way back I practically sprinted past what will now be forever known to me as Taye Diggs Place and for that Herculean exercise effort I will later be sprawled on a heating pad wondering how I got to be so old and easily sprung. It was worth it. I bet I looked awesome running with my visor.
Uh, I'm just keeping it warm until you get back.
Posted by laurie at 10:39 AM
September 21, 2011
Sunset in the mountains
The view from one side of Mt. Wilson:
The view from the other side:
Posted by laurie at 10:26 AM
August 30, 2011
Stuff I have learned about dating in Los Angeles while still being a normal-sized human and not a skinny beanpole with a rack.
Thought we should just get right to it with the title. Today I will present to you my scientific findings thus far on the complicated and fascinating wildlife study known as, "Dating men in Los Angeles using an online pair-bonding technology." I hope that what I have learned from my collection and analysis of data will help you if you decide to embark upon your own independent research study.
I am also drinking wine as I type this*. I have learned that scientists like to drink wine and develop studies about the heart-health benefits of the lowly grape. The scientific method is rigorous.
(* at 10 p.m., not 10 a.m. when it is published. The fact that I need to point that out to some people is what makes me drink to begin with.)
- - -
Scientific-Sounding Findings On Preliminary Mating Interaction Commonly Referred To As "Dating"
1) Observe, analyze, decide if you are ready to date
I wasn't ready for a long time and then I was. Signs you may be ready include: You want to make out with someone. You have time to actually go on dates. You feel pretty good about your life. You think dating will be fun and not a soul-sucking foray into sadomasochism. You're willing to sit through some awkward coffee dates and have a laugh. You're prepared to actually leave your house.
2) Approach dating like an amusing art project, not a Quest For Total Spiritual And Life Salvation
Seriously, people. Dating does not have to be a dire, earnest, all-encompassing life-altering MEET THE ONE experience every single time. Lighten up! Have some fun. My goal in dating was to have a good time and go to the movies with some interesting people and have happy conversation and a good meal and perhaps a story to tell. I have completely rocked all my goals. Even my date with Bachelor Number 2, the one who proposed 30 minutes into the date and was maybe a serial killer, was fun in its own And I lived to tell about it! kind of way. Don't put so much pressure on all of this. There are 6.78 billion people on planet earth. At least four of them will take you to the movies and laugh at your jokes.
3) Have a cute date outfit, get your hair done, explore mascaras.
Or do whatever it is that makes you feel good and confident. It's different for every woman. I feel good when I'm wearing something I think looks pretty, when my hair isn't scary root city, when my nails are painted, when I've been exercising, when I have a bikini wax so thorough that it exposes my pancreas. Whatever it is that makes you feel confident and happy, then just do that thing. The point isn't to honeytrap a man, it isn't even about the man. If you need therapy, get therapy. If you need to get healthy, go do that. If your roots have roots and you feel ugly, go get a touch up. The point is to be a decent and centered human being on your own so you'll have a good time in the world. And when you are confident you'll be able to tell the serial killers from the nice guys a lot easier. TRUST ME.
4) If that heifer yelling at her kids on the Maury show can have a great man, so can you.
That was not a nice thing to say, but tell me you haven't thought it once in your life. Maybe while watching Hoarders you said to yourself, "Self! I am not hoarding goats and growing toxic mold in my bathtub! So why does she have a man and my last date was in 1997?" And if you think it is because you are fat and not pretty, THINK AGAIN. The Number One Most Important Worry I had before getting into dating again was the simple, obvious fact that I am not tall and freakishly skinny, strutting around Victoria's Secret-style in matching bra and panty sets all day like a Skinimax movie. Would any man in this superficial, ridiculous city look through a catalog online dating site and pick me out of the (surely) all tall and skinny women available for his earthly pleasures? The short answer is yes. There are plenty of nice, interesting, cute and funny men out there who do not expect to date only supermodels. In fact they never dated a supermodel. They never will. They know this. They are just like you, wondering how that doofus, ugly guy on that one sitcom had such a hot wife.
5) Specific Scientific Methods for online dating, with special circumstances for your fear of not being skinny
How did this go from sounding fake-scientific to fake-judicial? SO. My best friend Jennifer gave me the most sound advice I ever got about dating in the technological age and I am now going to pass it on to you. I confided that I wanted to try online dating now that it seemed less creepy and horrible, but I was scared that my lack of skinniness would lead to rejection and me drinking wine alone under my bed while drunk-dialing college boyfriends. She waved all this fear away with a single, perfectly-manicured hand.
"Post LOTS of very accurate full-body pictures," Jen said. "The men who are interested will like what they see and those are the ones who will contact you."
And friends, she was SO RIGHT. Post plenty of clear, full-body pictures of you looking shiny and happy. Sure, use your cute face picture, and that one shot of you looking sexy at last year's Christmas party (read: 2003) but then post at least two but preferably four realistic, full-body pictures. Think about it. If someone sees your profile and he's not attracted then he won't email you. But the ones who do contact you have already seen you and already like what they see and want to see more. This way there's no awkward first-date guessing. Jen was so right about this and I love her for it. I have been on several dates and not one guy was at all disappointed that I wasn't tall or skin and bones. Because I look like my pictures. Now men need to start taking this advice, too, because if your profile picture is from 1992 I will probably figure that out at our awkward coffee date. (That has only happened to me once by the way.)
6) Addendum to research, site-specific
I used the service that starts with an "e" and rhymes with "Shmarmony." I like it because it's much harder for random people to browse profiles (in fact, it would be very hard for your boss or co-workers or whoever to stumble across your profile, first they have to take a mind-numbingly boring quiz that sucks up 85 minutes of their life) and there is no random search engine feature. At all. Secondly, since it's one of the more expensive sites it has almost no Craigslist-style, "Please let me pee on you/videotape you licking my feet" personal ads. You jump through a lot of hoops before you even email someone, and I kind of like that. I am not endorsing this site but I will tell you my personal experience has been totally positive. Well. There was BN2 who probably went home after our first meeting and went to his fridge to get a beer and had to move the human head out of the way first, but still he was a gentleman on our date and I lived to tell the funny story. I'm sure a lot of folks in the comments will have their own sites they like. You can try different things, too, you're not in a lifetime contract here. It's not like a cell phone. Thank God.
7) Observe all rules of safety, common sense, etc.
Meet in a public place. Tell a girlfriend or trusted advisor who is not a cat or dog where/when you'll be gone, that sort of thing. Honestly, people.
8) Mating behavior of humans not really changed after thousands of years.
I discovered about two minutes into my online dating experience that dudes prefer to contact the ladies online instead of ladies contacting men. Meaning: I have only been on real-life dates with guys who picked me from the lineup, not the other way around. In fact, in all cases where I initiated contact, the male did not reply or closed the match. This information will come as a surprise and perhaps annoyance to those of you who thought it would be like shopping from a catalog or Zappos.com but it appears that technology has not surpassed evolution. I have no further analysis here. Your experience may be different but I wanted to put it out there. Plus my test audience was small.
9) Social construct of 2011 first date similar to your actual first date from back in the dark ages.
For those of us in my age range (that means if you were a teenager in the 1980s and below) dating today is quite similar to dating in high school except the jocks got fat and the geeks became successful. In fact, dating now at age 40 is SO MUCH better than dating at any other time in my life. The men in my age range are interesting and diverse, they've had all kinds of life experience, they don't live with their mom. First dates will always be a little awkward, but now that we're all alleged grown-ups the rules are pretty simple: Don't talk obsessively about your ex, do ask about his life, do laugh, do be honest. Check in with yourself, ask yourself if you're being real, staying in the moment, learning about the person. OR are you just trying to be pleasing to get asked on a second date? Ladies. You know what I am saying here. Enjoy the date as a standalone event, don't put every single first date through a rigorous testing process for viable matehood. Just relax. After the date if you enjoyed yourself, send a very brief text saying, "Thanks for lunch/coffee! That was fun!" If he wants a second date this is the perfect time for him to text back and say so and if not you were polite and all is well in the world.
10) Life is short but it is wide.
Ok, I know I spout this Southernism quite often and it's a platitude to end all times. But life is short. Tomorrow anything could happen. Your life is the way you spend your day, your attitude about living. For a very long time I didn't want to meet anyone, I was just too closed-up. And I needed all that time alone, I needed to know me and pay my own bills and live my own life and make my own way. I wanted to be alone, I loved being alone. I wrote alone (I still do), I learned to make my ownself happy. I will never regret one second of that. For a long time I wasn't ready to be anything to anyone. Then one day I was ready to go out and be in the world again.
You don't have to live your life on anyone's timeline. These people who tell you what you "should" be doing, who try to shame you into a date, who push you to pair up, who say marriage is the end-all, be-all of the human world? They haven't had sex in twenty-eight months. Don't listen to them. Pairing up won't make you better if you're unhappy. Work on your life, your happiness, your insides. You are already in your one and only long-term relationship -- with yourself! Make that work before you start dating.
You do your own thing and then when you're ready come back and read all this. It will still be here. Life is short, people, but it is wide.
Posted by laurie at 10:18 AM
August 23, 2011
Optimism
Even the billboards are optimistic.
I had only been in California a few years when I learned about the trees dying at Mammoth mountain. I would comb through wire reports and clips in the newsroom, back then I was still working at the Daily News and had access to the file library. The trees near Horseshoe Lake were turning brown and dry and dying from excessive carbon dioxide seeping up from the volcano. I would copy the reports and stuff the clips in a folder that I kept in my desk. For later, I would think.
One report claimed that if the volcano erupted it would likely flow over the California Aqueduct and cut off the water supply to Los Angeles. I didn't worry about this or find it anxiety-producing, I was fascinated by the volcano, its possibilities. I had grown up with tornadoes and hurricanes and tidal surge, but a volcano was exotic and surreal. I became very interested in the intrusion of magma, I began memorizing facts about the Long Valley Caldera. I wondered what it would be like to abandon newspaper and go back to school, apply for a job at the USGS, monitor tree kill.
Later, when I was engaged to be married (and still working at the Daily News) I started getting into those inner-city-school teacher movies, like the one with Coolio and Michelle Pfieffer. And of course Stand & Deliver. I had a few friends from college doing Teach For America and one day I woke up convinced I could be a teacher and I had this idea I'd be in a classroom really educating and helping and like, I would be inspiring. I would make a difference. Later I thought maybe I should get headshots and try my hand at commercials.
There's something about this city that makes you want to wake up and be a new version of yourself every day. You honestly believe you're going to get a callback or option a script or rally the janitor's union or land a job assisting A Big Hollywood Star or finally make it. But it's anonymous enough here that it also feels possible to quit your life and study carbon dioxide levels at a crater in the mountains.
Los Angeles is where anything can happen. After a while you kind of believe anything can happen to you, too. The people who complain about the quick superficiality of this city never look just below the surface and see its real optimism. If you want to live in the past this is not your city, we've already paved over that and put up a Sephora there. But if you want to re-invent your life, this is the perfect place to do it. You can be just about anything you want to be in Los Angeles.
Posted by laurie at 9:34 AM
August 5, 2011
My flowerpot hat is at the cleaners
My friend Corey scored free tickets to DEVO tonight and her husband can't go so she invited me to the concert. I'm pretty sure I only know one Devo song and still I'm ridiculously excited about this concert because was it not just two weeks ago I was waxing nostalgic for the 1980s? It's like God heard me, people. And God said, "I give you one night to wear your blue mascara."
Corey called yesterday to discuss the greatest issue of our time.
"What are you wearing to this concert?" she asked.
"I'm not sure yet! What are you wearing?"
"I can't decide," she said. "I'm either going hipster of full-board super-preppie."
"You do uber-preppie so well it's scary," I said. "See? This is my serious disadvantage. My only two personal style genres are upscale homeless* and slutty ex-cheerleader."
(*A style also known as If I Were A Fat Olsen Twin)
"So what are you leaning toward?" she asked.
"Slutty cheerleader? I have these skinny jeans that I have never worn because they literally only fit me for the six minutes I was trying them on in the dressing room back in, oh, 2008," I said. "I tried them on this morning and they zipped and they're cute but so tight I might asphyxiate and pass out."
"If you're passed out on the icky floor of the concert place I am not giving you mouth-to-mouth," said Corey. "In case you ever wanted to know the limits of our friendship. That's where I draw the line."
"Oh, no worries," I said. "They're so tight I'd never fall over. I'd probably just pass out standing up."
"Then it looks like we have a winner!" she said.
It's always good to know where you stand with your friends. And I will be standing. Especially in those jeans.
- - -
Happy Friday, ya'll! Whip it! Whip it good!
Posted by laurie at 9:27 AM
July 31, 2011
Because weekends were made for Hollywood fun.
My friend and also-blogger Neil Kramer is in town. On Friday night he and I went to the Cinerama dome at the Hollywood Arclight to see a screening of Another Earth.
Me and Neil. Our necks look weird. Why?
Here's the thing about Los Angeles... every Friday night is an opportunity to sit around and talk about your dreams, man. And this is a town of bigass dreams. The film was followed by a Q&A with director Mike Cahill and the lead actress, Britt Marling. They came right out in front of the audience and chatted and answered questions (most of which were some form of, "So how did you crew a film with only four people?" and "How did you get funding for your film which featured a crew of four sometimes and used a cherrypicker as a crane?" and "How did you get into Sundance and eventually score a development deal with Fox Searchlight?")
I love L.A. You all know these past few months have been insane for me, what with the next door neighbor trying to murder me in my sleep and the car accident and my best friend moving away to San Francisco and that time I got that bad haircut. I started fantasizing about leaving, abandoning the sinking ship of traffic, brown air and organic dry cleaning. But how can I ever leave this place? How do I leave? I'm ruined for other cities. I'm spoiled by our smog and movies that screen with the actual director and Korean BBQ that delivers at midnight.
The movies are a total scene on a weekend.
Those shadowy figures down at the bottom near the movie screen are the director and lead actress.
After the film Neil and I walked around Hollywood and played tourist, taking snapshots of local landmarks. That is where I saw actress Casey Wilson who plays Penny Hartz on Happy Endings. Ya'll, she is so cute! But the photo I tried to snap all surreptitiously was bad so just use your imagination.
Later Neil and I ducked into a Thai place off Sunset for dinner, in which we both kind of pretended to be on a date so I could practice for my actual upcoming dates (!!) which I may or may not tell you about depending on how things go. Neil is one of my favorite people, he's smart and has a good heart and he's genuine. I call him sometimes when I'm chardonnay and he doesn't mind. He's known me long enough to know that if you put me on a spectrum of dating disorders, though, I'd be in the non-functional autistic zone.
So we're having dinner to help prepare me for my maybe upcoming date and Neil says, "I don't understand why you have a hard time meeting guys. What's wrong with you?"
"I don't have a hard time meeting guys," I said. "I have a hard time meeting guys who are age-appropriate."
"What, are they too old? Not tall enough? Not Al Gore?" he asked.
"No, like they're 25! Every dude who comes on to me in real life is 25. I can't do that. I can't even bring myself to say the word cougar," I said. "I can't go below 30. (anymore) It's unseemly."
"What's wrong with 25?" he asked. "Might be fun."
"Well it is. But like, I'm a chick, I can't be doing that stuff anymore. I have to like, grow up or something. Also, I have to stop saying 'like' every six words," I said, like, to Neil.
Our pretend date went great, mostly because we're friends and we weren't on a date and I can tell Neil anything and we spent the rest of the night talking about his divorce. Totally the antithesis of real dating.
Then we were attacked by a rabid roaming gang of juvenile delinquents and Neil fought them off heroically and got a black eye but managed to put a teenage miscreant in a sleeper hold to get my handbag back.*
(*None of that happened, but Neil stipulated that any story about him on my website had to feature him fighting crime.)
Oh, also we had these amazing crab rolls:
And when I was trying to get a picture of Casey Wilson I got this guy instead but I liked the picture:
Perfect weekend.
Posted by laurie at 8:16 PM
July 17, 2011
Now we're just waiting for the sequel...
Carmageddon came and went, apparently residents of the city were sufficiently scared out of their damn minds and they avoided all driving to all places at all times. The weekend was virtually traffic free! Which means when the sequel comes around next year and they do this all over again to tear down the other half of the bridge, people will think Carmageddon was a non-event and no one will heed the warnings to stay off the roads and there will be gridlock.
Just a prediction.
I did not drive anywhere. I walked to all my destinations, most of which were inside my own apartment. When I was out for my daily hike through the neighborhood I did see more folks walking and a little less traffic on the boulevard. There were plenty of news trucks parked here and there along the route, though all of the reporters looked a little sad that the city wasn't mired in traffic.
The guy who lives in the apartment across from mine (across a very small alley, in another building) had a big Carmageddon party where all the guests stood out on the balcony and chatted and smoked. As the night wore on the guests got louder and I could clearly hear my neighbor pitching his next script idea: "OK, so they close the freeway for construction and while demolishing the bridge the workers discover a portal that leads them back in time to the day the bridge was built!"
"Or what about a big group of homeless people, right? Like, displaced from the bridge..." said Another Person.
"Do people still live under bridges?" asked Third Person.
Then my neighbor had a stroke of brilliance.
"Hobo camp but with aliens!" he shouted. And you could hear everyone clinking wineglasses.
Crazy city.
Posted by laurie at 4:43 PM
July 12, 2011
Countdown to Carmageddon
As you have probably heard by now, poor little Los Angeles is about to implode and self-destruct and everyone is losing their damn minds and just as soon as I finish making fun of it some more I myself am heading off to the pet shop for extra cat litter and then to the grocery store for supplies because you may be right, we may be crazy, but we just may be the lunatics you're looking for.
It's called Carmageddon. The 405 freeway is shutting down on Friday night and not re-opening until Monday morning. If you don't live here you might think that's not really such a big deal because people can just take alternate routes, right? That's logical but it's not really how things work in this town. The streets of Los Angeles are more like a game of Pac-Man where you're caught in one of those wonky loops with ghosts on your tail and there's no way out.
The mayor and the city council have advised people to leave the city. And if you can't leave the city you are to stock up on groceries, stay home, and hope to get raptured into a carpool lane.
I'm not sure if this will turn out to be a non-event (like that one time it was supposed to rain really hard and the mayor advised the city to stock up on food and supplies... for a day of rain...) or if it really will turn out to be a cartastrophe of epic proportions.
Los Angeles -- never a dull moment here!
Posted by laurie at 10:59 AM
June 21, 2011
Humans at the zoo
This morning I was out early for a walk, it's supposed to warm up today and I like the cool mornings for walking. Later it will be near ninety degrees to welcome summer properly for the first official day of summer.
About midway through my walk I was at a corner waiting for the light to turn and I could hear sirens. There was a guy waiting at the light with me, and we watched as a police car with lights and sirens blazing went through the intersection followed by an ambulance, followed then by a mad rush of drivers who decided to just run the now-red light anyway, because by God, it was their turn! My turn, my turn, my turn!
I heard the guy waiting at the corner with me swear a little under his breath, then we both tried to cross the street but some lady in an SUV that she couldn't quite drive was doing some weird maneuver across three lanes and we had to wait in the middle of the street for her to figure out there were pedestrians in front of her car.
And I laughed. Because people here are crazy. And the guy heard me and started laughing too.
"I'm from Anchorage," he said. "I'm just in town for a few more days and, you know, I was gonna rent a car but no way. No way am I getting on the road with these people. I've seen people drive better in a blinding snowstorm."
We walked along the sidewalk for a few more steps and chatted about the traffic and the insane drivers and then he was back at his hotel and I was off on my walk. But this little conversation reminded me of something I saw on Friday.
On Friday afternoon I was driving down the boulevard, where it turns into Cahuenga and dips into Hollywood. There was traffic. Usually you don't come to a dead stop right there unless there's an accident or something, so as we all came to a crawl then a stop, I looked up ahead and I could see the flashing lights. Something in a store or restaurant must have been on fire, there were firemen and firetrucks everywhere.
Traffic was being funneled into one lane on the southbound side. In the big scheme of things this is not a crisis of traffic. Closing the 405 for Carmageddon is a crisis. Overpasses falling down is a crisis. Traffic momentarily diverted into one lane is not a crisis. But I watched in utter fascination as drivers in the cars ahead of me started freaking the hell out, "No! I am sitting still! Must be in constant motion! Fast! Because movement! is life!" and so a few of them honked (that did not help, by the way) and several just started doing weird shit like backing up, trying to flip a u-turn into oncoming traffic.
I glanced in my rearview mirror and just as I did there was a heavy thud as two cars about 50 yards back in traffic collided while both trying to make illegal u-turns. It was unfreakingbelievable.
Of all the animals in the animal kingdom, I think humans must be the most daffy. Here we had two people in two different cars, both so hurried and so unwilling to wait for three or even five minutes that they had to zip out, whip around and beat traffic. Except they crunched into each other and that little shortcut to save two minutes cost them so much. Having to pull over and wait for the police. Getting a police report. Filing a claim. Getting an estimate. Taking the car in for repairs. The five thousand envelopes that will arrive from the insurance company. Filling out the forms at the DMV. Paying the deductible.
All because they were too impatient to wait two or three or five minutes.
This is what happened last month when that lady hit my Jeep. After the crash she sat in her car, writing out her phone number for me, saying, "I was late for work." I remember looking at her with absolute disbelief, thinking You almost killed me because you were late for work?
That line keeps coming back to me at the oddest times. I'll see someone blow through a red light and hear that lady saying, I was late for work. And then I think, I hope they don't kill someone just because they couldn't bother to leave on time for work today. I've been walking almost everywhere since that lady hit my Jeep, sometimes I know consciously that I walk because I can, because if I hadn't seen her and if I hadn't been going the posted speed limit and if I hadn't slammed the breaks just when I did our collision would have ended a very different way. I go for my walks and I am so pleased my legs move. I don't even care that they're chubby legs or that I'm still short. I'm alive, I'm well, I'm walking. I've logged over a hundred miles on my shoes this month alone and it's only the 21st. Walk. Walk simply because I can.
Every day when I walk I see drivers who don't look into intersections before they turn. They speed into the crosswalk in their cars and the pedestrians have to scramble to get out of the way. I watch drivers zip through lights, there are lots of accidents on the boulevard. Lots of people are late, I guess, or just can't imagine sitting still for thirty whole seconds. I used to be like that a few years ago. Then I made the simple and life-changing decision to leave my house five minutes earlier. That's all. Every day I would simply leave five minutes earlier and then I didn't have to speed or run lights or be rushed or almost kill people every morning.
Five minutes can change your life. I walk almost everywhere now, but there are still days when I have to drive. I leave five minutes early, I take my time, I don't run red lights. I'm not in a panicked rush. That's my idea of hell, you know, always being in a rush, always having to be in constant motion, zipping past, honking at people, waving your tiny fist of rage at an old lady in a Prius. It's such a waste of energy. Crazy, daffy humans.
Posted by laurie at 8:45 AM
June 17, 2011
Some Friday Stuff
Day before yesterday when they were jackhammering away to China I was so frazzled and unnerved I grabbed my bag and left the apartment in a fluster. I was in my car and headed up the road before I even knew where I was going. Going to the movies was a spur of the moment decision, I picked "Beginners," it started at noon and the line was short. I sat alone in a row in the dark movie theater, the only other people near me were in the row just below, a man and a woman in their 60s.
We sat in that movie theater and cried a lot. I loved the movie but I had a few moments when I worried I was falling into the ugly, guffawing, snot cry. It's that kind of movie. I felt so self-conscious about crying then I looked at the man in the row ahead of me, I assumed he was there with his wife but I don't know, maybe she wasn't his wife, maybe I just assume everyone is paired off except me, and I saw this man remove his glasses and slowly wipe away his tears. I felt better. I felt like it was okay to just be a blathering mess right there in my popcorn.
After the movie I sat in my seat and felt a little worn out in a good way.
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Mysteriously enough the entire construction crew did not show up yesterday and so there was no jackhammering next door, no whining tile saw piercing into my arteries all day. It was a remarkably good day. Even with the opera enthusiast in the building across the alley playing Sonata of Depression and Killing all afternoon at the highest possible volume, even with the helicopters and airplanes and car alarms and the ambulances and sirens it felt downright quiet here. So that was the purpose of the jackhammer, perhaps. It was put on this earth to make me appreciate the ambient noise of my neighborhood.
I had a list of errands to run yesterday and I did none of them, I opened the windows and stayed home all day, no radio, no TV, just the sound of typing, an occasional meow from a cat letting me know I was a boring companion. I listened to secondhand opera from across the alleyway, music which I kind of like though you have to admit it's a really weird soundtrack to an uncertain time in your life. If you were feeling at a crossroads in a big crazy city and found yourself in some temporary apartment with all your stuff piled up in a corner and opera was the soundtrack running beneath it all you might think, Okay. Are we about to see a scene from The Godfather or is the war about to start or the disaster about to hit or is this the hipster heartbreak scene or are the neighbors going to be revealed as vampires?
Or maybe you wouldn't think that. Maybe you would just be happy your neighbor isn't playing Ranchero music all day.
The crew is back today. The tile saw started up at 6:45 a.m.
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I love Los Angeles in the June gloom. In the mornings it's so gray and dreary and heavy outside, and it's chilly like winter. People wear hoodies and sweaters and jackets and there's mist. The mist feels like a rainstorm because any kind of moisture feels significant here, that's what it's like to live in a place where it only rains eight days a year.
Today and tomorrow are probably the last of the June gloom. Soon summer will start and the morning fog will be long gone and the sun will bake everything dry and the wind will kick up leaves and dust and topple big trucks in the Cajon Pass. The hillsides will catch on fire.
Sometimes I wonder if I should leave Los Angeles and find someplace cool and gray and quiet. Then I wonder how do you leave a city like L.A.? Once you make it here and survive here and live here, love it here, how do you ever leave it? People probably feel that way about any place they call home. Even if the underlying soundtrack is opera.
Posted by laurie at 9:58 AM
May 26, 2011
Riding on the metro of love
It's just after 7 a.m. and already the construction crew across the way is flinging slabs of broken concrete into a metal bin as a precursor to the symphony of jackhammering and drilling that will spring to life in twenty minutes. Aaaaand she's off...!
Yesterday I took the Red Line (metro.net, service daily) to visit my friend Jen N. downtown. I love hanging out with her, she tells the best stories (though I was so happy to see her I'm not sure I let her get a word in. Talk talk talk talk talk!) The subway is a decent and cheap way to get around the city of Los Angeles if you can accept the following three items:
1) The subway travels fairly regularly between point A and Union Station but if you need to go anywhere other than a straight trajectory you might be majestically screwed.
2) As the world's largest metropolitan transit system running entirely on the honor system, yes, in Los Angeles, honor system, you will encounter various characters from the streets who don't pay fares for many reasons, including: They are trailblazers, or practicing their crip walk, or panhandling, or don't want the aliens in the ticket machines to steal their souls, or just need a nice simple place to put all their bags of recycling while they scratch themselves with great attention and vigor.
3) There are almost never any police or patrolmen or officials or security of any kind. I once saw a man get on the train with a fully loaded, sloshing can of gas and I wanted to signal to someone but there was no one. There is almost never anyone anywhere. I got off the train and the doors closed and the man and his petrol went to Wilshire/Western. And we all lived another day.
4) If you have some of the lightly comedic forms of almost-socially-sanctioned OCD like moi, you too may enjoy the ease and simplicity of the subway but discover that when you arrive home you need to take a decontamination shower. Perhaps not a full Silkwood but at least a good solid scrubbing.
I'm just being real here, but don't let me put you off the subway. I used to ride it every day for years and aside from the high rates of men with IPS (Imaginary Package Syndrome), it's a genearally safe and efficient way to get around, linear style. The subway is ridiculously easy to use, there are automated ticket machines in every station. You can purchase a day pass ($6, valid for all local travel until 3 a.m. the following day) but if you're only going to and from a destination on a single rail line your best bet is a one-way paper ticket at $1.50. Timelines for the trains are posted on monitors on the platform. Be sure to check the digital signboard at the front of the train to be sure you're getting on the right train.
I like this picture of the red line platform, it came out moody and painterly with no effort at all on my part:
Later in the day I saw a girl at one of the stations wearing the cutest little purple knit hat. It's the same general shape/mood of the Noro Taiyo hat I'm making for my nephew but her hat was far more intricate and delicate and pretty. After staring at her for a bit and realizing I might be creepy what with my staring and all, I decided to talk to her. I don't talk to strangers. I don't even talk to people I know all that often, but such is the power of a cute knit hat. I told her I knit and then complimented her headgear and asked if I could take a picture and she said yes. Check it out:
Cute, no? I love the slouchy hipser vibe. She said she bought it in Venice Beach for ten bucks. I want to make something similar but less complicated (homie don't do lace) and I'm thinking a band of seed stitch would work really well for the bottom, then move into some stockinette. I'll let you know.
For today's flower porn section I present you with another picture of lantana close-up and in the blazing SoCal sunshine:
My mom asked me on the phone if that was a super close-up (it is) because she said it's hard to recognize that so out of scale. Good point. Below is what this flowering plant looks like when you're not zoomed in on it. I found a whole slope of nothing but brilliant, blooming flowers:
Finally, do you all remember my picture the other day of this beautiful white flower growing in a pile of crud in an alley?
Well, I got a pile of email from readers letting me know this is a "jimsonweed, also known as Datura, it's hallucinogenic and poisonous..." also with a lot of history about it being all sacred and awesome and lots of horticultural stuff which generally left me impressed with you knowledgeable flower types! I appreciate a person that has a love and detailed memory for something like flowers and I really enjoyed all the notes. Thank you!
I also loved that many of you were concerned for my safety and warned me not to eat this flower. I can promise you I will not eat it. And that brings me to my final Los Angeles Living Well Tip Of The Day! I may not know from flowers but I do know a thing or two about this city and what I have learned from living here is that if you see something beautiful -- gorgeous, unusual, lovely, sweet-talking, shiny, whatever -- in an alleyway in Hollywood, DO NOT TOUCH IT. Don't pick it up, don't let it talk to you, don't smell it, and for God's sake do not put it in your mouth.
This goes for all things animal, vegetable and mineral. It's a gospel to live by. I don't give advice very often but that's some wisdom you can take to the bank.
Posted by laurie at 7:08 AM
May 25, 2011
Midnight in Paris, jackhammers in Los Angeles
Ah, the pleasures of city living. Monday morning the jackhammers across the street started just before 8 a.m. and continued along with screaming concrete cutters and backhoes until almost 7 p.m. I wore earplugs and headphones on top of my earplugs and still by about noon I was ready to murder anyone who looked at me. I like to be deep inside the cone of silence to work -- I don't even write with music on -- and that was not happening. I vacuumed a lot on Monday and showered until I pruned up.
Tuesday when the jackhammers started bright and early I took it as a sign from the Universe to abandon work for the day and get out of my apartment and explore the garden of urban delights available outside the front door and noise radius. I'm pretty sure the Universe said, "Go to the movies!" It was hard to hear. I guessed.
First I made a little detour at the library to drop off some books:
Come to Hollywood, where our public libraries look like maximum security detention centers!
Since I was a little early for the movies I killed some time browsing the racks at Amoeba Records (6400 West Sunset Blvd., open daily 10:30 a.m. - 11 p.m., Sunday 11 a.m. - 9 p.m.) where you can find records, CDs, posters, DVDs and lots of guys with suspect hygiene wearing black T-shirts. I like looking at the foreign language DVDs upstairs and doing some people-watching on the sly.
I used my Arclight points for a free movie ticket. LOVE you, Arclight! The one at the Cinerama Dome (6360 W Sunset Blvd.) always has unusual art or photo displays in the lobby, this month's selection is a great collection of portraits called MUGSHOTS:
Then it was showtime. One of the things I love most about Los Angeles is that this is a movie town, which means even on a Monday morning at 11 a.m. there's a crowd in the theater (but not too crowded, we all had our spacer seats!) The lights went down and Midnight In Paris started.
You guys! I LOVED THIS MOVIE! Halfway through the picture I had three concurrent thoughts: "I'm so glad I am seeing this today, take that jackhammers!" and "What awesome timing for this movie to be released just after I finished Gatsby
The timing couldn't be better for us bookclubbers either since the whole movie seems lifted off the pages of A Moveable Feast
Later in the day I was hoofing down Hollywood Blvd. and I saw the TMZ tour bus!!
I have been trying to get my friend Christine to agree to go on the TMZ Hollywood tour with me, I think it would be HIGH-larious fun to pretend to be tourists and look at the empty parking lots of Beso and Katsuya and hear the running commentary but she hasn't fallen in love with the idea. YET. Give me time.
Finally I'd dawdled and strolled long enough that it was time to return home and resume the earplugging. Bob was so over it:
The construction dudes are at it again this morning so I am off like a dirty shirt. I figure when the Universe tells me to get out and go walking I should just lace up my shoes and get a move on.
Posted by laurie at 9:02 AM
May 19, 2011
We're going downtown
Earlier this week I took the subway to meet up with my friend Corey. It was a rainy day and that is the perfect time to visit downtown. The area's olfactary offerings get softened after some rain. After a short subway ride ($1.50, one way, metro.net) we met at Grand Central Market:
317 South Broadway, Los Angeles. Nearest metro stop: Pershing Square
I love Grand Central, it's a huge open marketplace full of just about every food and spice and edible under the sun:
We decided on tacos, Corey got the chicken and carnitas while I went with the tried and true carne asada:
Lunch for around four dollars. Not bad.
Everyone likes Grand Central Market.
After our lunch break together I walked back along the damp streets and I saw a little still life that felt like L.A. to me, a little gritty, a little pretty. These white flowers bloom in the wildest places, you'll see them in freeway medians and along alleyways and they're so beautiful, the blossoms are quite large (sometimes six or seven inches across):
Here's the wide shot:
Flowers among the refuse.
Posted by laurie at 9:45 AM
May 17, 2011
You've made it to the big time.
When I see this hotel on Ventura Boulevard I think about the song Screenwriter's Blues:
And the radio is on, and the radioman is speaking, and the radioman says, "Women were a curse, so men built Paramount studios, and men built Columbia studios, and men built Los Angeles."
Ah, the SHOWTIME MOTEL. Good name for a script, no?
So I have excellent news. And of course being like I am I see it as a sign, a turnaround, relief. You know that as a Southerner by birth I am predisposed to believing that the mysterious ebbs and flows of the universe conform to my superstitions. We're like that down South. It's such a charming quality and it's probably one of the reasons I have settled so well in Los Angeles -- this may be the only huge city in the U.S. (well, perhaps along with San Francisco) populated by hippydippy superstitions, though out here it's about "energy" and "vibration" and "flow" and "karma." No matter what you call it, it's still the same old bone-deep belief that there's a mystery behind living.
Which is to say that after I stood up and declared I am not taking any more crap, Universe! almost immediately my insurance stopped yanking me around and not only are they restoring my Jeep to its 1995 grandeur, they are resolving the whole mess in my favor. Read: paying the deductible. AMEN, people. The tide has turned.
It's like the good Reverend Dr. Michael says, "The universe will correspond to the nature of your song." I guess you should take care about your song. My song is apparently a nonsensical pop tune about gurls in Jeeps in California.
The car was imminently fixable all along, for one thing it is a tank of solid steel and for another I have kept that machine in perfect running condition. It's never lacked for anything, getting every new radiator, the latest in catalytic converters, the differential of its dreams. But of course insurance companies are like banks which is to say they don't understand four by four drop top love. They're all about numbers on an excel spreadsheet. Thus, there was limbo.
As I have been waiting the past week for a resolution on all this, I realized I needed to look at the whole situation in a different light. Not the accident itself -- that was immediate, I knew it could have gone a very different way and I could be lying unclaimed in the L.A. County morgue right now instead of having coffee and typing this ditty. I had that on lock right away. GRATITUDE, check! Why you think I've been walking so much? The simple movement alone became ridiculously pleasing.
What I needed was after, I needed a new way to look at the logistics of the aftermath. (The shrink says that in some areas of the also-mysterious psychology world some see the car as an extension of self. INNERESTING.) I'm not that far gone, but I do think of my Jeep as the one object that has endured the test of time in my life and of course it has a storied history. I don't need to defend my decision here. Pure and simple it's a cool machine and I like it. I hate to see it mangled and scratched up and dented.
So I decided to view this chapter of my Jeep in Los Angeles terms. After all, while still a beauty and still remarkably healthy there comes a time in every aging actor's life when he or she needs a nip, a tuck, a minor facelift. So what if the Jeep needs some re-bar restalyne and bumper botox? It happens even to the most seductive redheads.
When I think of it as an aging B-movie actress everything seems to make sense. After a few weeks and some cosmetic surgery she'll look brighter and younger and ready for a closeup. And it will not cost one everloving dime.
We so crazy.
I have a thing about moody motel pictures.
Posted by laurie at 9:24 AM
May 16, 2011
A pretty start to the day OR an extremely boring beginning, depending on your opinion of foliage.
Many people mistakenly believe Los Angeles has no weather. This is not true. We have wind, we have fire season, and during the winter we have mist (it's THE BIGGEST NEWS STORY EVER). This is May, which brings my favorite Los Angeles weather -- May Gray. The marine layer comes in low off the ocean and blankets the coast with clouds and fog. The clouds even creep inland and the weather is perfect and cool during the day but still temperate at night.
June brings the exact same weather except for obvious reasons it is then re-named June Gloom instead of May Gray. We are really very snappy around here with the catchy titles. Right now we're in the middle of a stretch of May Gray days and tonight it might even MIST, which is extra exciting since it's not our rainy season. I like our gray/gloom weather days best because you know it won't last and soon summer will be here baking the asphalt off the roads and turning the bougainvillea into dry paper lanterns.
Reader Sandee G. emailed me to say the white roses I saw on my weekend walk are called "Iceberg Roses." I love that name! It somehow perfectly describes the flower:
You know, I've never really been a person who takes many flower pictures. Until recently, anyway. Maybe it's because now I have no garden or patio or terrace so all of Los Angeles has become my garden. Everything is incredibly vibrant right now and colorful and blooming. When it's cold outside in the mornings (read: 56 degrees) I can wear my hoodie on my walks and bring my camera in my pocket. I probably look like a goofnut taking pictures of shrubbery. Last week I passed a sidewalk full of guys practicing monologues for some acting workshop and when I stopped to take a picture of a flower I was the weirdo in that scenario. Go figure.
These are the flowers I stopped to photograph:
They're all over L.A. and they come in so many different colors. Is this Lantana? My flower knowledge is pretty sparse. I can name every herb in the book but when it comes to flowers I'm not much help. I love the way the tiny flowers cluster together to form a single flower and the colors are wild, proving once again that nature was the first great graphic designer.
Here is one of my all time favorite things about the flora and fauna of this sprawling urban mess I call home:
See that lush green shrub at the far right side of the frame? It's ROSEMARY, a big dense pile of herby rosemary growing right there in a cruddy alleyway in Hollyweird. Rosemary grows everywhere around here hardy and thick as a weed, and when you run your hands through it it smells delicious. Another favorite is lavender, also a weed in this climate. Here is a giant lavender and a giant rosemary sprawling together:
That picture above is the hedge on someone's beautiful yard. I snapped the picture just before heading up this hill for a walk:
Notice the house at the very tippy top? I walked almost all the way up there. I would have made it to the top if it weren't for the big gate and armed guard and surveillance cameras and large dogs and so on.
Here's a view from the hills on a cloudy morning:
Who says we have no weather? We have May Gray!
One last flower picture on my way home:
Pink flowers are my favorite. While I suspect this is a hibiscus I prefer to call it Shocking Pink O'Keefelike Lady Flower!
Posted by laurie at 7:38 AM
May 2, 2011
So Los Angeles
Yes, this is just what we need... a way to make kids even more adorably funny:
Posted by laurie at 2:33 PM
April 20, 2011
Spring in the city of angels
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Posted by laurie at 10:20 AM
April 17, 2011
Breakfast at Sweetsalt
My friend Christine invited me to breakfast yesterday, we went to a cute little sandwich shop in Toluca Lake called Sweetsalt, opened by Top Chef contestant (Season five) Alex Eusebio. I don't watch Top Chef but that detail seems important to the story for those of you who do. Everything on the menu looked like it was ten bucks or less and the food is outstanding.
Photo above has a weird angle to it. There was actually a girl sitting out front just below this sign. There is a cute patio area for dining outside and she was eating a salad at one of the outdoor tables. I was trying to avoid getting her in the picture because I didn't want to seem like I was taking a picture of her all creepylike.
The sandwich shop carries Zapp's potato chips! Zapp's are from Louisiana and are not easy to find here in Los Angeles. I got ridiculously excited about the potato chips.
Christine and I both had the turkey and avocado sandwich with applewood smoked bacon. DELICIOUS. I recommend.
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Posted by laurie at 9:05 AM
April 16, 2011
Wagon Wheel, and other songs
An accident, really, I was trying to text someone and I hit the wrong button and before long I was playing country music on my phone.
First night since I moved in that I didn't actively hate this apartment. Something about drinking too much and listening to some good songs. I like when Randy Travis says he's been diggin' up bones, or when Travis Tritt sings "Chances Are" (though the new version by Garrett Hedlund is better, I think.)
This place is just like that crappy apartment I had when I first moved to the city, a hundred years ago back when I was working at the newspaper and struggling to get by and something about the country songs made me remember it in a rearview mirror kind of way. Like nothing is really as bad as it seems. Like one day this will be a good song, except I can't carry a tune in a bucket.
I love country music. And I love being one of three people in all of Los Angeles who loves country music. You can't feel bad when you're twanging. Until I turned fourteen years old I believed that George Jones was related to me. All my uncles would quote him, and we listened to him all the time, and I was just a kid anyway, so what did I know? I thought George was some cousin or something, one of those family members we talked about but didn't trot out at family reunions. I mean, hell, he stopped loving her today.
So I was just laying there on the bed, it's hot outside so I had the window open a crack and you can hear the sirens and traffic. I'm trying to send a text and I hit the wrong button and now my phone is playing, "One day I ventured in love, never once suspecting what the final results would be..." and before long I've gone through Freddy Fender, Merle Haggard, Randy Travis. And George Strait is singing, "I'm carrying your love with me..."
And after a while nothing seemed that bad. Not even this apartment.
I'm practically related to old George Jones anyway. Now I just got to find a way to work in mama, and a train, and an old dog and we got us a SONG. A surefire HIT. AMEN.
- - -
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Posted by laurie at 11:01 PM
April 15, 2011
An L.A. day
10:05 a.m.
It sounds like someone is walking on the roof.
This apartment is on the top floor of a three-floor walkup, so there aren't any upstairs neighbors. All that's above my unit is the flat tar-and-paper roof. I can tell the roof has leaked before because of the patch job in the acoustic ceiling. The swirly popcorn paint treatment was popular 30 years ago when this building was last fashionable.
The first time I heard someone walking on the roof I assumed it was a repairman, perhaps a satellite TV installer. The footsteps seem to happen every day, though. Now I think maybe there is a homeless encampment on the top of the building.
There are stairs that go up to the roof but I haven't gone up there to look. I probably won't. It's hot outside, and I don't really care if someone is living on the roof.
11:15 a.m.
I'm driving in to see my therapist, which already sounds like the beginning to a bad 1980s novel set in Los Angeles, and I'm early so I can stop by the post office.
Traffic begins to slow, then crawl, then stop altogether and so I unlatch my seatbelt and lean over the passenger seat and zip down the other window on my Jeep. It's getting really warm outside.
Police helicopters are hovering overhead. I switch stations on the radio and when the traffic report comes on the woman's voice on the radio says all the exits are blocked nearby because police are searching for a murder suspect on Laurel Canyon Boulevard at Ventura.
"Damn it," I think. "That's where the post office is."
Then: "And a murder suspect is running loose, so there's that."
1:22 p.m.
At Rite-Aid there's a guy who sits outside with a can and asks for donations for some charity, or maybe the donations are for him, it's not obvious.
He's talking to a big guy with red hair, the big guy is wearing a Spongebob Squarepants T-shirt and dirty khaki shorts.
"How much can you clear in a day here, bro?" asks the big guy.
"I do all right," says the man holding the donations can. "My sister is out there at the Whole Foods, she cleans up."
3:40 p.m.
I'm in traffic again, this time on side streets, and now it's hot. The sun is just baking. We crawl single file past a line of black and white police cars, everyone is stopping to look. The cops have either pulled people over or parked in between the cars on the street, it's all chaotic. There are several young people in handcuffs, a few are girls who barely look old enough to be in high school. People at the Starbucks on the corner drink coffee and watch. People in their cars drive by so slow they're hardly moving and they watch.
A guy with a camera is walking up the sidewalk toward the police cars. Right beside him is a guy holding a large microphone, the kind you see on location shoots.
The windows are zipped out of my Jeep and I'm stuck in this traffic. I'm just a few feet away when one of the young girls in handcuffs notices the guy with the camera.
I hear her say, "Are we going to be on TV? That's so COOL!"
On the radio the traffic report starts. Apparently the exits have reopened near Laurel Canyon, they caught the murder suspect.
The light turns red, then green again and eventually traffic starts to move. One last look over my shoulder, the girl in handcuffs is smiling at the camera.
- - -
Comments are not available on this entry.
Posted by laurie at 6:26 PM
April 3, 2011
iPhone pics from the week
Have you just about switched completely from your digital camera to your phone camera? My phone cam doesn't take pictures as crisply and beautifully as my camera, but it's awfully convenient!
The line at the DMV, out the building and around the corner. It was a pretty day, though, I got a tan:
One small corner of Box City:
You know, even when they are perched atop chaos those original Burke star-based chairs look awesome:
Here's a cool car I saw in a parking garage this week, it was in pristine condition:
The original California woody. Love:
Here is how an OCD person puts down shelf paper:
(If I do say so myself I kind of rule the world of contact paper. First, clean your surface and if you are a germaphobe, disinfect it well. Let air dry. Next, cover every available surface with contact paper to seal out the germs of the previous tenants. AWESOME with a cold glass of pinot grigio served in a red plastic cup. Contact paper from Target, under $6. Feeling cleansed and in control of one single cabinet: priceless.)
And finally, the Soba in the new sitting spot:
Posted by laurie at 2:38 PM
March 26, 2011
Klassy with a "K"
The cheerful waiting room at my mechanic's shop had only one magazine.
The articles were awesome.
Posted by laurie at 12:23 PM | Comments (1201)
March 9, 2011
This one's for you, Ed Begley, Jr.
In the 15+ years that I have lived in Los Angeles, my brain has never fully accepted the idea that celebrities are real human beings who do things like sit in traffic, go to the grocery store, and shop in the Valley.
Perhaps it's just my rural roots showing. In a small town everyone who looks familiar actually is familiar. That friendly-looking face belongs to my old pal from the fourth grade, or you're that guy I met on a hayride, or his cousin, or you look familiar because we used to work together at that bar in college. Yay! Let's reminisce!
Whatever the case, when my eyes see a celebrity doing some everyday Joe kind of activity my brain gets confused. I don't think, "Look! that's Sandra Bullock right here in the Studio City Bookstar and she is with Dweezil Zappa, hurry, appear nonchalant and cool!"
No. What my brain says is, "That girl looks so familiar! I must know her. Did we go to school together? Did she used to work at Disney? Was she in my Tae Bo class that one time?"
And that is why the one time I saw Sandra Bullock in the Studio City Bookstar I scared her. My brain was all, "Maybe she worked at the Daily News? Did we ride the bus together? I think I know her from the bus. OH MY GOD THAT BUS. Breathe! Breathe! That's SANDRA FREAKING BULLOCK..."
And just then she turned and looked at me and I let out a little squeak and turned and fled from the home decor aisle at Bookstar. Smooth move, Laurie. Real smooth.
- - -
A couple of years ago the Book Expo came to Los Angeles. It was a wacky and ridiculously busy week. All the East Coast folks from the publisher were coming out and there were events and lunches and dinners and I was doing a few days at the show, too. I was still working full time at the Bank and trying to maintain my undercover writer status so you know. I was crazy.
The Wednesday before the Book Expo I was in Woodland Hills doing some after-work grocery shopping. I was still dressed in my work clothes and I was rushing up and down the aisles because everything those days was a big old rush. Hurry! There's more traffic for you just ahead!
As I turned the corner from the pasta aisle into the vitamin aisle I almost ran my cart into a tall man setting up a little table. And this man looked really familiar to me. My brain, in its rushed and frazzled state, immediately decided I knew this man REALLY WELL. Because out of my mouth for no reason at all popped out the following:
"Oh my God! Hi! How the heck are you?"
And I said it so warmly, so honestly! My voice sounded as if I were greeting my long-lost nephew. It was so real, because my brain actually thought I KNEW this man.
Responding to my completely authentic and obvious intimate relationship with him, the man looked up at me, smiled and spoke.
"Oh wow, I'm great!" he said. "It is so good to see you!"
And that is when my brain kind of caught up with itself. Because who the heck was this strange dude that was so happy to see me?
In that split second of confusion, I looked at the table he was arranging and I saw the stack of books and fresh sharpies and I saw his name on the book. And I realized I was having a very warm and engaging conversation with Ed Begley, Jr. I was chitchatting with him as if we had dated or done shots together or something.
Suddenly I knew I'd made a serious social error. But rather than pretend the earth was about to explode and I had to get a move on, or act like my phone was ringing, or even just apologize for being a dork and move to the next aisle, no, I decided the least embarrassing choice was to continue the charade.
"Well, it's good to see you, too," I said. "It's been a while! Hey are you in town for the Book Expo?"
"Yeah," he said. "I'm going to be there, definitely." His face was smiling but in his eyes I could see him scanning me, trying to place me. And it's hard because I have one of those faces. You know the kind, I always look like someone you've met before.
"Great," I said. "I'll be signing both Saturday and Sunday so I'm sure we'll bump into each other."
At this point my panicked brain realized I had to LEAVE. NOW. I motioned to my groceries like they were in a hurry.
"Have a good one tonight," I said. "Talk to you later!"
We smiled. Warmly. Like old friends.
"See you this weekend," he said. But I could tell he was confused. Who is this woman? How do I know her? Why are we so friendly?
I abandoned my cart a few aisles over and fled the scene of the grocery store. I was so embarrassed. I was sweating heavily in one armpit. I had just made a total ass out of myself.
Later that night after a nice glass of wine or three, I thought about my embarrassing run-in with Ed Begley, Jr., and I decided it was probably funny. Wine said I should get over myself for feeling like a complete dumbass. Surely celebrities have this happen all the time. Surely I am not the first person to ever have this response to friendly-looking Ed. And anyway, he was in my store in my Valley. How was I supposed to know he was a celebrity? He was in the vitamin aisle, right next to the hemp tank tops at Whole Foods on a weekday. How could I have known?
- - -
When the Saturday morning of the Book Expo arrived, I got up and showered and tried to pull myself into a reasonable facsimile of what I think an author might look like. I wore makeup and did up my hair and put on my high heels and as I was on my way to the Convention Center I remembered the little mid-week incident with Ed Begley, Jr.
My embarrassment had faded. Now The Begley Situation felt kind of hilarious. In fact, I wondered if it might be a good idea to finagle a writer's schedule from my publicist and figure out when he would be signing in the main auditorium. I could line up and get an autographed copy of Ed's book. We could chitchat like old friends.
This idea amused me to no end.
But unless you really are a celebrity the Book Expo is just a churning line of work and gladhanding. My publicist had me in the booth all day and I signed books and got sharpie stains on my hands and smiled until I thought my face would fall off. By mid-afternoon I had forgotten all about Ed. When I was just about ready for quitting time I was told to fix my lipstick and haul ass to the green room. My main auditorium signing was in 15 minutes -- at the other end of the building.
The green room is just a big tent set up in a smelly corner of the Convention Center. Authors about to sign books in the main cattle call booths go to the green room to check in and get bottled water and wait for someone to herd you around. I half-ran, half hobbled down to the other end of the auditorium, hoofing it as quickly as one can in three-inch heels. As I pitched myself into the green room GUESS WHO I RAN INTO.
"Oh, hi!" I said to Ed Begley, Jr. I was flushed and a little out of breath. "I think I'm late! Did you sign already?"
"I'm just on my way out there," he said.
"Oh, great!" I said. I grabbed one of the bottles of water out of the cooler. "They need to stock these things with alcohol, you know? Like there should be a rule that all green rooms come with a chardonnay slushee machine."
My friend Ed laughed.
"That's a good idea," he said. "I don't think anyone back here would argue with you."
"Well I gotta run and check in," I said. "I'll try to come by and get an autographed copy of your book. It's great by the way. Seeyoulaterbye!"
Just before I turned to leave I saw the look cross his face. The look of dawning horror that he may be asked to autograph a book to this woman who clearly knew him so well yet ... what was her name? Why can't I remember her name? Where do I know her from? Did we used to work together? Did we go to school together?
Even though my cheeks hurt I smiled ear to ear. A little secret smile. I was totally messing with Ed Begley, Jr.
- - -
I never got in his line that day, there wasn't time. When the afternoon ended I packed up my bag and headed to the parking garage, back to life, back to reality.
Time passed.
Eventually I left the West Valley and moved back to Studio City. I even left the Bank and stopped rushing around all day long like a crazy person. I had more star sightings in the months that we were apart, but my time with Ed had taught me a valuable lesson. Now even when I run into someone I actually know I keep it nonchalant. Just in case.
A few months ago I was buying cilantro at the Farmer's Market. I paid, I put my cilantro in my hippy dippy cloth bag, I turned to walk away and look for grapefruit. Across the crowd we locked eyes.
It was Ed. Ed recognized me.
And people, HE SMILED FIRST.
We waved at each other across the crowd like old friends do and then I hurried off to my car. I was taken off guard. I was sweating again, under my left arm.
Damn him! I thought. Ed Begley, Jr. just EdBegleyJuniored me!
Now I know it's just a matter of time. We're not done, me and Ed. I'm sticking with this ruse until the bitter end and apparently so is he. Sometimes when I'm bored in traffic or standing in line at the DMV I imagine what I'll say next time I see him. Maybe I'll tell Ed I'm writing a screenplay that's just perfect for him. Or I'll mention in a casual, offhanded way that my business partner and I are thinking our new line would be a great endorsement vehicle for his brand.
On bold, brazen days I imagine myself saying, "Ed! It's been so long, we should have lunch at that place we went to that time..."
It's not over. I'll see you soon, Ed Begley, Jr.
Posted by laurie at 5:57 AM | Comments (767)
February 26, 2011
What the hail?
And it's still coming down! Crazypants!
Posted by laurie at 1:56 PM | Comments (63)
February 18, 2011
It was a dark and stormy afternoon...
It's a' brewing
I just got back from a very long walk. The morning started out partly sunny and ended with a windy chill. Usually as I walk the day warms up but this time it seemed to be getting colder and windier and darker by the minute. Storm clouds are building and the sky looks ominous and I think we're about to have a real-deal bonafide storm.
My supplies are all stocked up, I have a good book (When We Were Strangers
Oh yeah, there's something I forgot to tell you about my adopted home city. When it rains the power goes out. I'm not sure why our infrastructure isn't water-resistant, some little mysteries are best left unexplained.
- - -
Luckily I can swim
Yes I can swim, so if my rooftop patio turns into a swamp I'll get through it. Seems when I mentioned the class that wasn't some people thought I was taking swimming lessons instead of swimming exercise class. I got several earnest, heartfelt notes urging me to reconsider and learn to swim and stories of how the writer or his/her mom/sister/aunt learned to swim as an adult and conquer the fear.
You know, until I read those notes I never thought about my own ability to swim, it was something I just took for granted. My folks taught me as a baby and it's something I can't remember not knowing how to do. Thanks to those notes, when I talk to my dad this weekend I'm going to tell him how grateful I am they threw me in the pool early because that is one life skill I definitely would not want to learn as an adult. When you're a kid your fear and anxiety level is so low about things like learning to swim or learning to ride a bike or trying to fly by jumping off Little Nanny's barn (whoops) fourteen times (whoops). I think I spent most of my childhood jumping off stuff and landing in creeks and bayous and large piles of dirt. It is sort of a miracle I survived.
I don't have a fear of water or swimming, though I am not real fond of boats. And I downright panic at the thought of a big ship, like a cruiseliner. They make me hyperventilate just looking at them (see what I mean about adult-level anxieties? I am pure crazy head.)
My ability to swim is the only reason I can even step foot on a small boat. I have two firm rules when it comes to watercraft: the vessel must be small enough for me to safely jump off the side and the boat journey can't take us out of site of the shore because I can swim to shore.
When my mom and I were in Bermuda last year we discovered that much of the transportation around the island was on a water taxi (read: boat). We were about to step on the first boat and she turned to me and saw the expression on my face.
"Are you going to be OK? You're not going to upchuck or wig out or anything are you?" she asked. SO MOTHERLY.
"I'm fine," I reassured her. "But we have to sit on the top deck so we can evacuate more quickly if we start to sink."
"Why would we sink?" she asked. My family enjoys humoring me.
"Not sure," I said. "Could be anything -- pirates, icebergs, mechanical sharks. The point is we have to be ready and aware."
"It must be hell living inside your brain," she said cheerfully.
"Sometimes," I said.
We got on the boat and sat down (near the side of the boat, easier access to the edge) and she laughed at me.
"You look like you're working out a math problem," she said.
"I think if we have to swim for shore we'll probably have to ditch your handbag," I informed her.
"Why do we have to get rid of mine? Yours is bigger," she said.
"Because I'm the stronger swimmer," I replied tartly. "If I'm dragging you, I can't take your purse and mine both. And we'll need some money for the wine I'll have to drink after this mini-Titanic goes down."
"Yeah," she said, "I could really use some of that wine RIGHT NOW."
Then she put on her sunglasses and pretended to be vacationing alone. But it was such a great trip. I could see the shore the whole time.
- - -
Finally
When the big storm hits today, I will be safely home, safely cocooned in my little world where my personal heated blanket is all ready to go:
Oh yeah.
Posted by laurie at 11:34 AM
February 17, 2011
The city that Ugg built
Yesterday it actually rained a bit in the morning and it was very exciting. I woke up, made coffee and watched the morning news and traffic report from my bed while the sweet thrill of schadenfreude washed over me. It's like a little birthday present every day that it rains and I don't have to get in my Jeep and ride the clutch all the way to downtown. It's only about 14 miles away but it can easily be a two-hour voyage in the rain.
You may wonder why we're so terrified of the mist. Here is the weather forecast:
HOLY CRAP PEOPLE> WE GONNA DIE> SEND WINE.
But when it came time to do the man-on-the street portion of Super Mega Storm Trackermageddon, it was actually bright and sunny and beautiful outside. After even a little mist this city turns into a sparkling, crisp little jewel. So our intrepid news reporter Leo Stallworth (one of my favorites, he always gets the weather stories and he is ridiculously entertaining) stood outside in his blue slicker and showed us what is forecast for Southern California:
Water will fall from the big Evian bottle in the sky. Drive carefully, folks.
If I didn't take pictures of my own television you know you'd think I made all this stuff up. Admit it, secretly you want to come here on vacation and watch Channel 7 news during STORMWATCH. Don't you? Bring your Ugg boots. You'll need them to blend in with the natives.
- - -
There is a cat picture at the end.
So it was kind of dark in the room and my iphone doesn't do a great job in low light but I think even with the poor quality you can see that this is a work of art. I want a sculpture of this pose.
He makes me laugh.
Posted by laurie at 7:36 AM
February 16, 2011
The rain makes us all smarter and dumber at the same time. It's the humidity perhaps,
Today my schedule is pretty clear. My day will go something like this:
5:30-6:45 - Ignore minor feline chatter aimed at getting me up out of the cozy bed and down the stairs where the kitchen tiles are cold but the fancy feast is still waiting patiently in its can.
[NOTE: One feline roommates begin using their flexible bones and joints to mimic opposable thumbed creatures, this problem will be solved. Frankie solved the meow mix access issue years go by creating a channel in the bag with her teeth so the meow mix could flow like a river whenever she is around.
[Further NOTE: The dry food is now stored high above in glass jars. Humans 1, Felines 0]
6:45 - coffee, yes I still use instant coffee, and I still love my electric kettle more than I have loved every man I dated from 2005-2011. Not that I dated anyone this year but it's a logical assumption that if it happens I will still like my coffee maker more, since men in L.A. seem to consist of only 60% real man. The rest is 20% pre-adolescent teenage boy, 15% woman, and 5% marijuana and/or porn addiction.
6:45-7 Drink coffee back upstairs in bed where it's cozy.
7 (ish) - Look out window to see if it's really raining like THE MegaDoppler of DOOM!!! predicted. Follow with some if-then logic, as in "If it is raining then I will not go outside and walk." or "If it is clear, I will maybe go for a walk."
Walk or no, day resumes at 8::15 - shower
9 a.m. - Get head shrunk by shrink. Funny my head stays about the same size.
10 a.m. sit in car and eat an apple.
10:30 a.m. - Go to acupuncture doctor to help my chia become my chia pet.
Posted by laurie at 8:22 PM | Comments (0)
February 15, 2011
Mark it in your calendars: February 15, the day that winter arrived
Oh sure, you've had thirty-six feet of snow, but enough about you. Let's talk about poor little Los Angeles, where we have a change in the weather so huge and terrifying that it has been the lead story on every news channel.
Last night Dapper Dallas Raines showed us what is in store for the week. First, and most terrifyingly, there is a big red L in Arial Bold with swirly dingbats hovering in the clouds:
And at some point in the week a big mass of blue arrows will arrive in Los Angeles:
Finally, some giant blue robot teeth will descend upon the city and eat us all:
I love watching the nightly weather here in Hollyweird. It's the most entertaining thing on television. Did I ever tell you I was our college TV station's weathergirl? I have been a weather nerd for as long as I can remember. When The Weather Channel first debuted I remember thinking it was the greatest invention since blue mascara. (I was younger then and had unusual priorities.)
We have all kinds of weather in the seven day forecast this week -- sun and clouds and rain and palm trees and I am already looking forward to seeing our local news anchors dressed in slickers and standing out on Ventura Boulevard doing man-on-the-street interviews about the mist. It's absolutely my favorite part of the news.
Palm trees and clouds and raindrops oh my!
This is the first time in 16 years I can fully appreciate the rain in Los Angeles since I'm not commuting in it. I'm going to stay home and build a roaring fire (read: "flip the light switch that turns on my fake fireplace") and drink hot beverages while watching STORMWATCH 2011. And of course I will wear my Uggs, and probably wear my pajamas to the store.
Oh, I love you, crazy city of mine.
Posted by laurie at 7:30 AM
February 2, 2011
That wind-blown look
We have Santa Ana winds blowing everywhere. When I first moved to Los Angeles eleventeen years ago I did not realize that a place with very little weather could have so much crazyass wind.
My houseguest canceled on me and my swimming class got postponed because the pool is leaking or something, and my TV isn't working ... all I get is this when I turn it on:
All the channels look furry!
- - -
Tomorrow I'm announcing the new book club selection with a twist. But when is the best day for us to meet back and talk about it? Is a month too short? It feels short. But Mid-March is spring break, right? Let me know what you think is a reasonable amount of time to read a normal-sized fiction book (it's not Pillars of The Earth, promise.)
Though if we ever do pick a humongous book as a book club read it will also count as that month's cardio.
- - -
Bob does cardio:
Posted by laurie at 11:44 AM
January 12, 2011
Milk, bread and toilet paper
I talked to one of my old friends back in Tennessee this week and he said they'd stocked up on the big three for the snowstorm -- milk, bread and toilet paper. I always stocked up on beer, chips and magazines but each to their own.
Here in Los Angeles we have been dealing with winter, too. It hasn't been close to 80 degrees since... well, since last year! Like, December of 2010! So we are looking forward to relief:
Love me some Dapper Dallas Raines.
Posted by laurie at 9:06 AM
December 23, 2010
I Survived Stormageddon 2010!
Los Angeles after a rainstorm is an object of beauty like no other. The city is shiny and clean and everyone is so happy, we are delirious with happiness! Because the sun is out and all is right with the world. I went to the post office and people were happy! I went to the grocery store and everyone was on a sunshine high! They were still in pajamas and Ugg boots, of course, but we can't be expected to recover from seven whole days of rain all so suddenly. But we are happy, and that is what matters. We know how to drive in sunshine. It's a Christmas miracle.
It is especially beautiful if you only look up:
If you look down, however, you will discover our seedy secret, our dark underbelly, our citywide shock that water repeatedly fell from the sky and landed on the earth.
Welcome to Potholesikstan!
I don't know why our roads aren't water-resistant. Seems like if you're making a road you might want to plan for the contingency of a little rain, even out here. Maybe the state gets our road material at a discount because it dissolves under water. Very inneresting. I understand flooding and mudslides and all the stuff that goes with unexpectedly heavy rain out here but I don't understand the pothole-a-palooza that happens after water touches asphalt. Every road developed huge crumbling sinkholes. Very mysterious.
So the solution is clear -- just look up, where everything is beautiful again and sunny and it's safe to leave the house. I love you, Los Angeles. I love your palm trees and your blue skies and your water-soluble roadways.
Posted by laurie at 10:55 AM
December 22, 2010
Notes from Hollyweird
Last night the local evening news ran an entire segment about how to drive in our nasty, winter weather. Meaning rain.
A trusted source with the auto association gave us tips, like how we should use our windshield wipers and turn on our headlights and also, if the window begins to get fogged up, drivers can use the defroster or run the air conditioner.
I believe that says everything you need to know about my beloved city.
- - -
I Twitter. Tweeter? Tweet? Twit?
I don't know how you follow me. I'm at http://twitter.com/#!/crazyauntpurl if that means anything. Mostly I drunk tweet. I admit it, no shame. Two glasses of red wine I'm I'm all "We are so maudlin because of the weather..." Also I talk about star sightings because that's my protein.
I read everything people twitter back at me because now I have it on my phone and I love my phone. If it were possible to overturn Prop 8 in California, I would marry my gay girlie phone. Of course then we'd probably divorce and I'd owe contract money. This is actually my main argument to fervently support gay marriage -- every human being should have the right to fall in love, get married and later writhe and suffer through 18 months of hideous, soul-sucking divorce. NO EXEMPTIONS. Equal rights for all people.
But about my phone. Back in the day you used to have to work at being smart. If you had a lot of trivia stored in your brain you attained a certain level of standing at parties. But now everyone has an iphone or similar and so anyone can be a know-it-all with the help of IMDB and wikipedia. It has freed me of know-it-allism and allowed me to pursue my hobbies of obsessive handwashing, knitting, reciting '80s rap song lyrics and making up songs about my cats. I LOVE THE INNERNET. Even though it is full of crazies.
- - -
SPEAKING of crazy, did you see the episode of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills where the real Allison Dubois turns out not to be blonde, or sweet like Patricia Arquette, or sane, but is instead a hot pot of drunken madness? I have never loved television so much. Also, it was so not mean of Kyle to make Kim ride alone in a limo, since Kim lives out in Agoura or Westlake Village or something and that is really a traffic consideration. I am just saying, traffic trumps sisterhood. And even if it was retribution for Kim's way of, well, Kim's way, I still think a time out served in a limo is not really that painful. Especially if the limo has a stocked bar and is free from psychics.
- - -
I cannot believe it is almost Christmas and I can't believe it is still RAINING and I can't believe 2010 is just about over and I can't believe I have yet to make a resolution because you know I love a list.
- - -
YES, IT IS STILL RAINING. In Los Angeles. Our city hasn't experienced six consecutive days of non-sunny weather in my whole life of living here, that's fifteen years now. I had to go to Whole Foods yesterday even though it was raining because, seriously people. There was a lack of organic potatoes in Chez Catpants, and when it's gloomy and overcast I am a woman who needs a potato.
Anyway, at the store all I heard anyone talking about was the horrible, life-altering weather. You know, the rain.
"It's so hard," said one shopper on her cellphone. I was behind her in the soup aisle as she chatted. I love listening to people talking loudly on their phones at the grocery store. It's free entertainment.
"The rain is everywhere, even if you valet park you still have to be in it! And my yard is flooded. And the corner of Coldwater and Moorpark was like a scene out of that... remember that bad Kevin Costner movie? What was it? YES! Waterworld! Thank you! You know his agent once told my husband that he's cheap... like he bought his wife a used engagement ring or something."
Wasn't Waterworld about mailmen? My mailman almost had a nervous breakdown yesterday when I asked him how he was. It's a superficial question, folks. The answer is always, "Fine!" Here in LA we value the superficial. We believe deeply in it.
And you know it's bad because yesterday I asked the mailman how he was, "Hi! How are you today?" and he said, "POSTAL. THIS RAIN. IT HAS NOT STOPPED. I CALLED MY AGENT FOUR TIMES ABOUT A CALLBACK. IS IT THE RAIN? ARE YOU GETTING BAD RECEPTION?"
I touched him on the arm, which is something I never do. I don't touch people, because of my handwashing. I do hug inappropriately, but that seemed like an overzealous response, so I put a hand on his forearm.
I said, "Your agent will call. You have the look that is perfect for Modern Family." And he smiled at me like I gave him crack-covered chocolate or something.
"Thank you," he said. "My callback is for Mike & Molly. But I feel like I'm Modern Family material, too."
Send sun. We need our Vitamin D.
Posted by laurie at 10:54 AM
December 20, 2010
Rainy days and hobos
Los Angeles is a notoriously casual city but when it rains here we transform from lackadaisical to downright homeless looking. Well, homeless avec Ugg boots.
It's been raining for DAYS people. We aren't used to this. It's hard for us, what with the water and all. We know other people have snow and ice and something called winter coats, but we we signed up for sunshine and palm trees in that order. And star sightings. And sushi bars next to pot shops next to Thai BBQ.
When it rains our fashion is so, so sad. We believe that rain means you can just forgo getting dressed. I was thinking this as I looked at my own clothing yesterday just before I got out of my Jeep and went into the grocery store. I had on brown, floppy yoga pants tucked into Ugg boots and an old purple T-shirt obscured entirely by a gigantic grey hoodie. I walked into the grocery store wearing something I would not normally be seen dead in my bathroom wearing. Also, I was one of the better dressed people there.
No less than six people were shopping in their pajamas, with pants legs tucked into Uggs or wellies. Everyone looked a little out of sorts and damp. These are people who drive $100,000 automobiles and yet do not own an umbrella. Or a coat. It's hard. We have so much to deal with. Like MegaDoppler and StormWatch and SigAlerts.
This dude wore not only his pajamas to the store but his bathrobe, too:
He did at least have an umbrella.
Posted by laurie at 10:12 AM
November 26, 2010
There must have been some magic in that old silk hat they found...
This morning I went to my first-ever Black Friday shoppingpalooza. Well, really I just went to Target for some household stuff -- soap and paper towels and cat food. But it is Black Friday and I was there at 5 a.m. so I think it counts.
I often wake up freakishly early and this morning I was sitting in bed drinking coffee and watching news at 4 a.m. and of course they were interviewing people camped out on a sidewalk outside some electronics store.
"You're insane," I said to my television screen.
Then the reporter mentioned that Target was opening at 4 a.m. and since I was already up and caffeinated and semi-dressed, it wasn't long before I was sitting in my Jeep in a jam-packed Target parking lot.
"This is insane," I said to my steering wheel.
But I was there already, so I channeled my inner Niecy Nash and said, "I'm going in!"
It was actually kind of fun. The shoppers all looked sleepy and happy and the store was about as crowded as it usually is midday on a Saturday, but (unlike midday on a Saturday) the store was packed with red-shirted employees and every checkout aisle was open for business. The electronics area had a huge line, which I avoided, and I meandered around unhindered until I found THE PILLOWS.
Just by chance I found a really great sale on pillows. The good pillows, not the cheapo ones, and they were on Black!Friday!Sale! for four bucks. So I stuffed a few in my shopping cart and moseyed on. All the sudden I became a beacon for every woman in the store.
THE PILLOWS!!! WHERE DID YOU FIND THOSE PILLOWS!! MUST HAVE THE SALE PILLOWS!!!! WHERE WHERE WHERE ARE THE SALE PILLOWS!!
The ninth woman to ask had a wild-eyed look of shopping desperation which was my sign to quickly and quietly exit Target before THE MADNESS set in. At checkout I somehow ended up with both a $15 giftcard and a $10 bonus giftcard, so in essence I was paid $25 to shop for detergent and string cheese and whateverelse. AND I GOT THE PILLOWS!!!!
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Yesterday around eleven in the morning I laced up my shoes and went for a long walk along the Boulevard. It was one of those perfect Southern California days that reminds you that we live in paradise, everything was so golden and crisp and saturated with color it looked like the day had been sucked into photoshop and retouched to perfection. The sky was as blue as a movie set sky, the palm trees were bright green and sharp and waving in the breeze.
Since it was Thanksgiving I was surprised to see the sidewalk cafes full of people but they were. Everyone was relaxing, their faces turned up to the sun, drinking steaming mugs of coffee and enjoying the day. There were folks out all over the neighborhood. Some were shopping -- the grocery store was a traffic jam of cars and pedestrians -- and others were out walking dogs, jogging, pushing baby strollers. A yoga class let out just as I was passing by the studio.
Starbucks looked like a dog convention was being held on the patio, all the tables were packed with people who brought along canines of every size and shape and color. One dog was wearing a little pink bow in her hair, one had on a jingle bells collar.
I love this city but I especially love my neighborhood. I lived here before (back when I was married) although now I live in a different part of the zipcode. I'm just a few steps off the Boulevard and it's one of my favorite stretches of sidewalk in the world.
When my older brother was here visiting in September, he and my parents drove up from Orange County to see my place and go out to lunch and I was babbling on and on about how great it is here and how happy I was he got to see my neighborhood on his trip. He lives in a beautiful beach town just south of Daytona Beach and he has a very happy life there. I think it's funny how absurdly proud I was to show off my neighborhood and my skinny-but-tall apartment when he lives in the picture of American bliss. He owns a beautiful sprawling home with a pool and a huge lawn in Florida, the kind of house that would be impossible to find here unless you were willing to pay a bazillion dollars for the property alone.
Yet there I was, proud as a new mother showing off my rented slice of the city, relieved that there was just enough street parking that day for my dad's truck to fit.
"It's a cool neighborhood, sis," he said. "And your apartment is great."
"Does it make you want to move here?"
"I wouldn't live here if you paid me," he said. "Too many people and way too much traffic. You just can't escape from it out here."
I knew the answer before I asked. And he's right in some ways, of course there is always traffic, there are always people everywhere you go. I'll be the first one to tell you my quality of life has improved dramatically since I quit commuting.
But what drives some people nuts about the city -- the feeling that you can't escape it -- is what makes it so appealing to me. The city itself and all those people are like a teeming hive and I'm part of it. I never feel lonely in Los Angeles. If you want human interaction all you have to do is leave your door and the whole city spills out around you. Everything here involves a crowd: the grocery store, a trip to the coffee shop, a visit to Target any day of the week. Even in my apartment building there are all my neighbors making noise, living life. There's the one who obsessively checks the door handle, and the Russian couple across the courtyard, and the beautiful girl who wears high heels to walk her dog. It's a one-act play every day, a little scene of urban life.
Sometimes the city is a lot to take and you feel relieved to come inside and close the door and be quiet for a while. But it's always there. You're never isolated even if you're a homebody like me. And when you need it, it's always there waiting for you just outside the door. You can count on it. It's a very comforting thing for someone like me.
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AND I GOT ALL THE PILLOWS!!!!!!!
Posted by laurie at 10:25 AM
November 2, 2010
Today is the greatest day of the year
Yes, it's election day. And I am going to share with you why this is THE GREATEST DAY of this year. Sure, it's a day when we get to exercise our constitutional right and let our voices be heard and grease the ever-chugging wheels of our federal republic which many people call democracy.
But, more importantly, it is the last day we have to see those constantly blaring negative political ads! For at least one full day we'll be free of the nastiness. Then I assume it starts all over again on November 4th for the 2012 election.
One of the major downsides of all that horrible political campaigning is that no matter who gets elected you feel suspicious and unhappy with the winner. Here in California the TV ads for Governor have been running since February (!!) and Meg Whitman's radio ads started running back in 2009 (!!!) so we've been listening to a YEAR of nasty campaigning. It's like those stores that start decorating for Christmas in June. It makes a person crazy.
The last time I voted I was still living in Encino-adjacent, also known as ghetto proximus. So my polling place was at a Guatemalan evangelical church in a strip mall, sandwiched in between a taco shop and a bail bond business. It was very exciting to vote that day, a line stretched around the block and it took so long to get inside that by the time I got finished casting my ballot I was more than ready for a couple of carne asada tacos. Today I voted at my new polling place, also known as my old before-divorce polling place, it was very pleasant but without the wafting smell of onions and cilantro.
I love voting. The first thing I did on my 18th birthday was have a diet Sun Drop for breakfast ... and the second thing I did was to fill out my voter registration card. I like the retired folks who man the polling stations and the way everyone is friendly and sort of excited. (It's strange how that vibe completely contradicts the awful tone of the campaigns, isn't it?) I love the "I voted!" sticker. I have very strong feelings about the sticker, which is why I never vote absentee.
Now I get to look forward to tomorrow, the first day in a year with no political ads. And if Prop 19 passes I'm going out to buy a bong. Oh just kidding! You know I already have one.
You want me to pose? Sure I'll pose.
You put a sticker on me? Very funny, wiseguy.
Wait until I get into your closet.
Posted by laurie at 12:07 PM
October 28, 2010
On the road in Los Angeles
Posted by laurie at 10:57 AM
October 20, 2010
Good air
Just a quick one this morning, my parents are coming up today from Orange County for a visit. With the dog, of course!
It rained here yesterday and that means today we'll have perfect air and the whole city will be sparkly clean and shiny when the sun comes out. And the sun always comes out. Los Angeles after a rainshower is a beautiful thing, I wish I could bottle it up and send it to you. I'd rather send it to you than have you come here and clog up the freeways, you know.
Sometimes I feel like this city and my very small life inside it are the only things I know for sure. I know when it rains the traffic will be snarly and I know that when it clears the air will be perfect. But I have no idea what my future holds. My life has no set trajectory and when I dwell on it too much I panic.
Then I remember that even when I thought my life was set and even when I was sure of what my future would look like I was wrong, and it changed, and eventually it all worked out (sort of) or at least it got me somewhere new.
Today's three things:
1) My parents coming to visit
2) Cool nights and downright chilly mornings
3) Baked potatoes, nature's perfect food
Posted by laurie at 9:10 AM
October 4, 2010
Dog Beach Afternoon
My older brother Guy was in town a week ago and I spent most of the time trying to persuade him to move to Los Angeles, but apparently that isn't going to happen. Something about "traffic" and "hell" and "freezing over."
But he did enjoy a little trip out to the dog park on Huntington Beach where we took my littlest brother for an afternoon of sandy, smelly fun.
My two brothers. One is freakishly tall, it seems.
It was a beautiful day, a scorcher in the Valley that kept the beach sunny and clear all day.
Surveying the territory.
The whole family. Only one wears a coat to the beach.
Hi dad!
My favorite picture of the day. He'd burrowed in behind me under my beach towel.
Contemplating infinity.
A perfect day.
Posted by laurie at 10:30 AM
October 1, 2010
Young for 12 seconds
Trader Joe's market isn't far from my house and they have wine for $1.99. Everyone calls this bottled elixir Two-Buck Chuck. It's not bad, really, not bad for two dollar wine. I stock up when I'm there because the parking lot is a war zone so I don't go very often. I hate having to flip people off in a parking lot.
Yesterday I was at Trader Joe's buying my Two Buck Chuck and this frozen salmon they sell which is marinated in chimichurri sauce. The salmon is kind of salty but tastes good and counts as a non-fast-food meal in my book.
At the checkout counter the little guy ringing up my groceries (three bottles of wine, one frozen salmon packet) said hello, how are you, the niceties of L.A. grocery shopping.
"And, uh, could I also see some ID please?" he asked.
I flipped open my wallet and showed him my driver's license. He was squinting a bit at the date so I helped him along.
"Nineteen-seventy-one," I said. "The bronze age."
He laughed, shook his head. Had no idea what the bronze age comment meant. He was practically embryonic. But cute.
"You are looking good my lady friend, looking good," he said. "Never would have guessed the seventies."
And for just a minute I was caught off guard. I do get carded sometimes (not often enough, ah well) and I've come to accept the fickle nature of the grocery store ID check. No one is carding me because I look 21. I figure they're mostly doing it for charity or out of habit.
But I did walk a little taller out of the store. Looking good, friends. Looking good. For someone who is freaked out about being forty in this lifetime, I am looking good to the Trader Joe's bag boy, never mind that he had to squint to see my birthdate.
Looking good, my lady friend. Proof itself that God exists.
Posted by laurie at 9:57 PM | Comments (0)
September 26, 2010
Autumn
It was 110 yesterday. Hello, Autumn!
Posted by laurie at 9:03 AM
September 24, 2010
Fake Car
Seen on the 101 and 5 south.
Imagine you meet someone online on one of those dating sites and you make a date and he shows up in this ride. Oh yeah.
- - - -
Don't forget: Book chat on Monday for Winter's Bone
Have a great Friday! Don't drive off in any fake cars!
Posted by laurie at 8:56 AM
August 25, 2010
Hot fur in the city
Nothing to talk about but the weather.
It is 107 degrees outside. I wish I were exaggerating but I'm not. It is mid-afternoon and 107 degrees here in the San Fernando Valley. Summer in the city! Everyone drives worse than usual when it's this hot. I went out early this morning for some groceries and I saw three accidents on Ventura Boulevard in a 2-mile radius. There was much honking and berating across the land.
The weather has been mild until just recently and then overnight the city turned into an oven. Dapper Dallas Raines says we'll have chilly fall-like temperatures in the 70s by Monday but right now all is sweaty and lethargic at Chez Furball...
Posted by laurie at 2:16 PM
July 16, 2010
Lo, and water fell from the sky!
Each day this week I've tried to get out of the house earlier and earlier to avoid the heat. I made the mistake a few days ago of walking past 8:30 in the morning and about had a heatstroke in front of a Starbucks.
So this morning I made a quick cup of coffee (the secret, I have discovered, to my morning exercising success) and got caffeinated for my walk while watching a little Good Morning America. The featured story was about a tiny little tremor in the Washington D.C. area -- a 3.6, not even something left coasters would classify as a quake. We get those every day and twice on Sundays. Apparently it sent people in the D.C area into a mild panic, with a flood of calls to 911. Californians laughed into their lattes.
Having lived here now for sixteen years (!!!) I consider myself fully Los Angeleno-ized and I also scoffed. Just last week we had a 5.4 and people yawned. Put that in your pipe, Washington, and smoke it.
Feeling smug and nonchalant about the earth and its mysteries, I laced up my shoes and headed out into the far more terrifying world of the city in summer, a race to exercise before turning into a melted heap of sweaty lard.
These days I'm clocking just around three and a half miles each morning (it sounds like a marathon, but it's an easy walk on a sidewalk and it takes about an hour.) It's even easier when it's not an oven. I made it to the stoplight that is my turnaround point and I was halfway back to home when I felt a splat on my head. I let out an audible groan.
"Shit!" I said. Then: "Bird shit, most likely."
But just as I was mentally calculating the statistical likelihood of getting avian flu from a bird poop attack, I got hit by another. And another. I looked up to see what incontinent creature was flying above and I saw what appeared to be a cloud. Then I noticed other people around me on the sidewalk also standing stock still, staring upward. What was this strange, fluidlike substance coming from the sky? Was there a movie shooting nearby with a weather machine? Or could it be the unthinkable ... could it be rain? Rain in July? Has that ever happened?
What do people do in such an unusual circumstance?
Well, if you live in Los Angeles and have lived here long enough to fully assimilate, you apparently stand out on the street staring at the sky like a dumbass. That's what I did. That's what all the joggers and dogwalkers and coffee drinkers around me did. We all stopped in our tracks and stared at the sky. Where water mysteriously came forth and moistened us.
Finally I realized I was still a mile from my apartment and this odd liquid aberration wasn't letting up so I hustled my sweaty and now rain-soaked butt back home. When I got home I turned on the news and sure enough Lisa Breck on Fox 11 was saying there were reports of pouring rain all around the city. It's NEWS, people. NEWS. Though I have to say the Southern part of me thought this wasn't really pouring rain. It was more of a little light shower. If that. But still, said the Losangelized part of me, it's rain! In July! Very noteworthy!
Then I remembered that story on GMA about the tremor in Washington D.C. and how I scoffed. I wonder what they would think of us nutballs who don't get out of bed for anything under a 6.0 but lose our bacon every time there's an ounce of precipitation. Funny.
Posted by laurie at 9:22 AM
July 14, 2010
Hot
It's hot.
Earlier this morning I went out for a walk and I had to turn around a little early because I was worried about getting sunburned before 9 a.m. Even if I'd worn sunscreen it would have sweated off, I looked like I'd just run a 10K in the middle of the Sahara. The sun was already burning and baking the Valley, it's supposed to be over 100 degrees the rest of the week. Hopefully sweating is an appealing trait, look, I'm glossy!
As I walked back I noticed people arriving at a small coffee shop with a patio out on the boulevard. The smell of pee was already overwhelming. I don't see a lot of homeless people on that block but there must be at least one very avid outdoor potty spot nearby because that whole block always reeks. In the heat it was even worse. I was staring at the folks sitting out drinking coffee in the steaming urine aroma and I couldn't for the life of me figure how they could stand it. They stared back, wondering why I was dripping wet and exhausted.
Summer.
Later today I'm going to dust off my treadmill, remove the items I've been storing on it (most expensive storage device ever!) and actually plug it in. I have lived in this building since September of 2009 and I have not even plugged in my treadmill. Awesome. Anyway, that's my plan for later. Summer is when I most want to visit someplace cold and snowy. Or watch movies about cold and snowy places while knitting things I could use there such as wool gloves.
- - -
Posted by laurie at 10:32 AM
June 14, 2010
OK, I felt that one.
We just had an earthquake... according to the news it was a 5.7 and it was down near the Mexicali area. But I felt it all the way up here in the Valley. I was on the sofa catching up on my New York Real Housewives (judge silently to yourself) when the cats all woke up and the capiz shell lamps started jingling on their own.
The first thing I do when I feel a shaker is to turn on news radio. Then I pour a drink and say a little thankyou that it was only a tremor. Now I am listening to people call into the radio and talk about their experiences ... "I was watching '60 Minutes' on the DVR, of course, because that program is only on on Sundays, anyway, I was sitting there and my dog barked. We thought he needed to go outside so we opened the door and then I noticed we might be shaking. The dog went out anyway."
"I'm in Burbank and I definitely felt it, I was engaged in reading some Ayn Rand works here, and I felt a rolling effect. It wasn't a shock, but it was rolling. And like I said I was reading and it didn't feel like an earthquake but I thought it was because we were moving. But I was reading. Ayn Rand."
"Like, I'm at a hotel in Hollywood and like, nothing much happened. But like the first thing I do, like, when I have an earthquake is turn on KNX. Well, after it stops. Like, you know. To see what's up."
God I love this city.
Posted by laurie at 9:47 PM
June 3, 2010
Happy hour
After work last night a few of us got together for drinks and dinner at the Bonaventure. It was so nice, we don't do that very often, mostly just for special events. It was my favorite group of people. My old beloved boss (he's not old, he's just not been my boss for the past 53 days, not that I am counting) (much), and perfect, charming Corey of course who planned the whole thing, she has the world's best laugh, and Work Jen who makes me smile and feel at home just seeing her. There was Larry who is renown at the bank as being a man who can fix anything and who told us a story that involved large beer bottles and duct tape. Rocena was there, she and I have known each other since my first day on the job. She was the one who all those years ago patiently answered my online banking questions and later ...many moons later... I was such an evangelist and convert to online banking that I worked for eight months building out business online banking with Michele, who also came last night, and Amber, one of my closest friends.
It was Amber that was with me when I went all Mary Poppins on some dude in a gutter in Paris and whacked him upside the head with my umbrella and my repressed southern girl rage. We have seen each other through so many birthdays that we actually stopped counting out of compassion.
And then there was New Jersey, our 25-year-old newest addition to the office who has been there two years now(!) and still can surprise everyone. One day last month he showed up at work with a huge shiner, a big black eye with stitches crawling across his brow and claimed, "Uh, basketball mishap." That lasted about six minutes before we heard the story, which gets better at every telling, of New Jersey getting into a tussle at the Roosevelt on a Saturday. It's one thing to have a knock-down-drag-out at a seedy bar in downtown but at the Roosevelt this is kind of an accomplishment. I love his stories. I love listening to him talk-- half bullshit and half pure, unadulterated lust for life.
He is living life. The life, the one where you move to L.A. and just plug into it. He lives without abandon. I love it. It reminds me what it felt like to be 17, 18 years old and think the whole world was just waiting for me. I was always a cautious, careful kid but at 18 I still thought only in terms of what great stuff could happen maybe. I didn't know shit about retirement and checkbooks and insurance and life-altering decisions and fat pants and divorces and the very idea that my own father could fall ill was so impossible to me that even until two weeks ago I didn't believe it to be true, because he was always invincible. Larger than life.
Here's a funny story about my dad: I once worked for him at his newspaper and he had a visceral reaction to my love of Al Gore (let's say it was like throwing up, but expressed verbally) and my father, the proud and deeply conservative businessman could not understand why I kept a framed picture of Al Gore on my desk (next to a framed picture of Peter Jennings, and then one of my dog at the time, Mr. Charlie.) So one night I snuck into the office and replaced my father's family portraits all neatly framed and lined up behind his desk with pictures of Al Gore.
It was so much fun. I cracked my ownself up for days and days. I think my daddy may have needed a Silkwood shower when he first saw the lineup of Al faces watching him.
I do love my father. I do love to torture him.
Oh, to just stay in that space where you're 17 or 19 or 22 or even 25 (though by 25 I had already lost my way) and yeah, of course you have BIG DRAMATIC PROBLEMS but mostly they will be solved by someone calling you back or by you looking hot that night or by you and your friends hauling off to the coast for a weekend of drunken cookouts and someone doing shots with tabasco in them.
I think we get older and scared and we make life so hard, so complex, we pick it or it picks us but either way we start getting into the details so hard and furtively that we lose the 23-year-old way we rushed up each day to see what new thing would show up. We get consumed with the very details of living life. I wasn't always that way, you know. I used to dance first when my favorite band played. I used to be that wild girl in high school you wanted to hang out with because I didn't care if you thought my hair was ridiculous and I could talk my way out of anything ("You could talk a dog off a meat truck," one of my high school friends told me, in teenage awe, as I talked us out of a citation for underage drinking. "Officer, we feel that littering has reached a critical mass and the youth must pick up for the excesses of our older brothers and sisters... which is why we followed them here and will clean this campground of the heathen liquor litter...") I loved just living. I was too young to know it, though.
On Tuesday all lanes of the southbound 101 were closed and traffic had seized up like a heart attack, what people don't know unless they drive here is how one freeway fubar creates a domino effect on all the tributaries and side streets, every road becomes impassable. And so I stayed home and had a coffee, wrote, went for a walk, came in to work later once the lanes had all opened. As I drove by the scene of the accident I could still see debris in the left lane and a gash across the freeway and down into the embankment. I thought, was this person just going to work and that was it, it just ended? And all anyone cared about was the traffic?
And then I wondered why I think morbid junk like that.
But I think junk like that to remind me to plug in. Plug the hell into life! That attitude of being hopeful and invincible can come back. It exists inside us. The belief in a future of endless possibilities doesn't have to go away just because we get older. We can start making a whole list of why it won't work out ... or make a list of why it will. Or screw the list, just go live some life.
The best times are when you spend more energy living and less time worrying about consequences that may never come to pass. I'm writing this not to lecture you but to remind myself to just relax.
Posted by laurie at 12:26 AM
May 28, 2010
My next book may be written entirely from personalized license plates on the 101 Freeway
Can you believe it is already Memorial Day Weekend, 2010? In honor of all the people who will be on the road this weekend, I present to you a few personalized plates from all the people on the 101 that I shared traffic with this week:
I love a great laugh! Not sure about Lafs, though.
I had no idea there were APOSTROPHES in license plates.
Crazypants Al and his Furn.
Yeah, well I have abs, too. They're just well concealed.
I would say if I had to pick someone to be friends with it would be the person driving this car. Which may explain my well-padded abs.
Scientist? Scientologist? You decide.
I drove behind this person for over forty minutes. Yo quiero? Toe J. Hero? What does this mean? Why do you not have an explanation printed on your bumper? I had to change lanes finally. It was making me crazy.
U B having a good Memorial Day weekend!
Posted by laurie at 6:58 AM
May 26, 2010
Idol sightings
Yesterday Corey and I were having lunch on the patio at the Standard when I interrupted our conversation to say, "Holy crap! That's Andrew Garcia checking in!" and a few minutes later ... "There's that girl whose name I don't remember! Another American Idol." I guess the cast and top 10 are staying at the Standard during the two night finale at L.A. Live.
After lunch Corey wanted to go to an ATM so we walked up Flower and as we crossed 7th Street there was Siobhan Magnus bigger than life with her two little sisters, it looked like they'd been shopping at the mall. I had no cell phone and no camera with me. Of course. Or I could have played paparazzi while Corey tried to run away fast. But still, those are some pretty good rising star sightings for a lunch break!
So who will it be tonight, Lee or Crystal? I'm voting Crystal all the way but I still want to be the filling in a Lee and Casey James sandwich.
Posted by laurie at 7:40 AM
May 10, 2010
Mystery vanity plate #547
Saw this last week on my way into work:
What does it mean? Scared to love L.A.? Screwed and in love with L.A.? Surreal heart Los Angeles? So much to ponder on the 101.
And:
This weekend I saw the Sobakowa sitting in repose looking out the window and her ears appeared to glow... is this how she communicates with her people? Will they soon be taking over? Very mysterious. Also, I think she's been using Twitter. I keep coming home to find her sitting on the keyboard. If that cat can type with her butt, I may be out of business.
Mondays.
Posted by laurie at 7:13 AM
April 13, 2010
Hark! And the heavens parted and a Jeep came forth and there was traffic and all was good again!
I have never been so happy to be stuck in traffic. Behold the hood of my red Jeep which is now mobile again and functional and took me home with much blaring of the radio and excitement and honking and people blocking intersections:
Maybe the breaking has ended. In my defense, Your Honor, I bring you exhibit #48: The Final Apex Of Breakage! Perhaps! Maybe!
Yesterday morning in a span of ten minutes I managed to break not one but TWO hair dryers! AMAZING, PEOPLE! Do not invite me over to see your new fancy gadgets!
Yesterday I awoke at four a.m. as usual. Yes they make a "four" twice a day. I fed the cats, I scooped, I washed my hands, twice, I made coffee, I watched a little Garth Kemp, I turned on the remaining working computer, I wrote. Then as the 6 o'clock hour neared, I showered. Got out, toweled off, and at some point applied the special hair gunk mousse. It's so awesome and makes my field of split ends into a silky sheen when blow-dried. When not blow-dried, however, it cakes into a crust of geologic proportions. I got out my hair dryer which had worked just three days ago and plugged it in ... and nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero. The silence of the lambdryers. This bell tolls for thee, unless thee has a dead hairdryer and nothing tolls.
I tried pushing and resetting all those buttons on the plug. I tried a new outlet. I pushed more buttons. Tried a power strip. Tried a power strip with surge protection. NOTHING. I knew before I even started. This hair fluffing machine had fallen prone to breakitis and you know what, expletive expletive! Expletive!
I hauled it downstairs and threw it in the trash. But I was wimpy with my toss and it just lightly sat atop last night's garbage. So I retrieved it from my own trash can and re-chucked it -- this time with FERVOR! It made a satisfying clunk and crumble. Plastic actually broke off! Behold the powers of me, breaking broken things!
I returned upstairs where I knew somewhere in the depths of my bathroom there was a travel hair dryer. Expletive you, Karma. I am a hermit, a recluse and a hoarder. I have a BACKUP.
After pulling out the cleaning supplies and backup backup moisturizer and Q-tips from the bathroom cabinet, I found it! The travel hairdryer! It even had the two-pronged Euro plug converter attached from its last trip abroad. The only catch was the hairdryer's little indicator dealy-thingy, the dial you turn from Euro 220 voltage to American 110 voltage. It looks like a flathead screw but it's plastic. I tromped back downstairs and found a flathead screwdriver, tromped back upstairs and totally counted this as a day of exercise on my calendar, and started to change the voltage dial.
Which was made of plastic.
Which crumbled and stripped and got stuck somewhere between voltages. And rendered the machine both useless and dangerous.
It should not surprise you that by this time my hair had hardened into a moussed version of a motorcycle helmet. I took the broken backup hairdryer to the trash and discarded it with the power of a woman coming unglued, a woman on the edge, a woman you'd expect to be painting on eyebrows and wearing something shiny while swigging gin at noon. Things have BROKEN. In the span of ten days I have managed to have my vacation plans upended, my computer break, my backup hard drive die, my car expel metal from its undercarriage, my cat produce a hairball that looks like chewbacca, my apartment need emergency re-piping, my job of seven years got suddenly and without warning changed, I got a new boss, and all my hair dryers have freaked the hell out. It has been very exciting here in Chez Panties Up Your Butt.
Then yesterday I got the call about my Jeep. It's not only fixed, it purrs like a kitten. It smells good -- they threw in a free car wash, which is only free if you ignore all the zeroes on the bill, which I did. The motor practically hums! By midday I learned the magic IT man somehow extracted my files and saved my data. It was expensive but I was so happy about getting all my digital pictures back that I wanted to strip him naked and do Harlequin-Romance-esque paragraphs on him and yet I restrained myself. My vacation gone wonky was offset when I got a call from my house sitter who told me she had just moved CLOSER to me and was so excited to see the kitten posse and could she stop by soon?
And as for my hairdryers, who needs a hairdryer when you have a Jeep, a moving wind machine? Unzip the windows, let the wind in and shake it like your mama made it. Expletive expletive, really awesome expletive! I survived the Great Breakage of April 2010. Sure it's not even mid-April and Lord knows what breakage lies ahead but I have my Jeep back. I drove home with the windows out and it was cold at night so I blasted the heater and I sang like I do, which is sort of Bonnie Raitt being tortured over hot coals, and I knew I was MONEY, baby! Or out of MONEY! But still, has the word MONEY in it! I looked right at the guy stuck next to me in traffic and howled along with the radio at the top of my lungs, "Out on the road today I saw a deadhead sticker on a Cadillac, a little voice inside my head said don't look back, you can never look back..."
And you know what? My bubblehead bleached blonde 'do didn't move an inch because it was permanently moussed in place.
Posted by laurie at 8:42 AM
April 12, 2010
Riding on the metro of love
Now that I am sans automobile, I am taking all sorts of alternate transportation ... buses, shuttles, the subway, my feet. I haven't been on the subway since September or October and I am happy to see they finally installed turnstiles! It always shocked me that Los Angeles was the largest metropolitan subway in the world that operated on the honor system. The honor system. In L.A. Uh, Alex, I'll take "contradiction of terms" for $200, please.
While I'm excited to see that there is now some form of turnstile action happening in the subway, it seems like a waste of time if you have a whole row of tap-activated turnstiles next to a large one designated for disabled access that has no turnstile at all. It's just wide open and anyone can pass through it (that's what's happening in the picture below.) So, how does this work? People who buy tickets and pay the fare use the turnstiles and those who still skip out on the fare walk through the open space?
Fascinating. (Image taken with my iphone, pretty good huh? It is the only electronic thing I have that is still under warranty so while the Great Breaking of 2010 is in full swing I decided to leave my nice new Canon camera at home and just use my iphone for pictures.)
I was telling a co-worker how pleased I was to see turnstiles, even if there are some gaps, she commutes on the subway every day and so we sometimes talk about mass transit in L.A. And that was when I learned something totally crazy.
"The turnstiles don't actually keep you out if you don't tap," she said. "They're entirely for show."
"Whuuuuut...?" I asked. Perplexed.
"The turnstiles aren't locked. They work whether or not you tap your metro card. You can pass through any turnstile no problem whether you paid or not."
"So what is the purpose of the turnstiles?" I asked.
"I guess maybe it makes us look like we have a real subway?" she said.
And so there you have it, Los Angeles still has the largest metropolitan subway running on the honor system.
- - -
During rush hour we all cram onto the subway like sardines and then exit en masse and tromp up the stairs in a clump. Here is a Los Angeleno who really does not care that he is making an entire trainload of humans walk around him on the stairs:
Hundreds of folks walked around him and he just sat there. Also fascinating. (I blurred his features, which do you think is better... a blur or a big black bar? Hard to tell.)
- - -
You know, whenever I notice people in Los Angeles doing things that are goofy or inconvenience the general public around them or seem incredibly rude, I am not really irritated, I'm mostly fascinated at their audacity. I guess I don't have the self-posession to boldly block the stairwell for a thousand people when there is a bench five feet away. It amazes me, that's all. But what is funniest of all to me, and why I love posting this stuff, is the comments people come up with to explain or excuse whatever it is. "Maybe he was disabled and so he made it down the four other flights of stairs and had to stop and rest." "Maybe he's got a titanium leg and sitting on the stairs is more comfortable than the bench." "Maybe he is in the CIA and partially blind and doing a field study of the pedestrian flow in the red line."
Once, many years ago, I wrote about seeing a smelly old homeless dude in the downtown public library who was very clearly looking at and enjoying some extremely hardcore pornography on the public computers in full view of everyone, including little kids. Los Angeles can just be so gross sometimes. Anyway, one commenter wrote, "What is porn to one person may be a WWF website to another, or art, or research. And yeah, I have known one to two scholars that looking at porn is actual research - studying the effect of porn on culture, the role of the woman in porn as a feminist study..."
I read that comment and I remember thinking to myself, "Wow! He was such a good student he was even multitasking! If you count masturbating into a plastic bag as part of his research study..." hehehehe.
Anyway, the point is: I secretly love that inherent in most people is this desire to find some explanation for cruddy behavior. Like there's just this automatic drive to find a plausible excuse for it. To me it shows that most people at heart are willing to give someone the benefit of the doubt and that's a good thing, or else we'd all be in the 15-items-or-less line with 67 items in the buggy. I generally don't make excuses for people, I just assume they're suffering from an abundance of crazypants, but I am always surprised by the things others come up with. I think it's reassuring that there are so many folks willing to believe the best in people. The only downside is that I don't think you kind souls live in Los Angeles...
Posted by laurie at 5:43 AM
April 11, 2010
Local woman cannot count. Film footage at eleven.
(Yes I had something here earlier, now we have this.)
Good grief, lady! It's the 15-items-or-less aisle on a busy busy Saturday and you have at least 67 things already on the checkout belt and are still unloading!
(By the way I wish you could have seen the dirty looks she was getting from everyone in line. Priceless.)
Posted by laurie at 8:01 AM
March 19, 2010
See you Sunday!
I hope to see you Sunday at The Knitter's Studio!
Rachael Herron and I will be doing a little reading/talking/signing thing together at the Knitter's Studio in Los Angeles this Sunday (March 21, 2010) from 2 p.m. to 4 p.m.
The shop is located at 8118 West 3rd Street, Los Angeles, CA, 90048. I'm going to bring my knitting and hope you will join us for a fun afternoon of knitting and chatting and book-reading.
Currently working on squares for a baby blanket.
Posted by laurie at 9:25 AM
March 16, 2010
Rumble in the urban jungle
This morning we got shocked out of bed by a 4.4 earthquake (at 4:04 a.m. Creepy!) At first I wasn't sure if it was an earthquake or a Bobquake, since those can be fairly serious during the night, but then I felt the earth move under my feet, I felt the sky tumbling down ...
Usually I am awake at 4 a.m. but this wasn't the real 4 a.m., it was the fake 4 a.m. thanks to Daylight Savings Time which I am totally blaming for this earthquake. We definitely felt it in the valley what with our liquefaction and all, oh the words you learn, green eggs and ham.
This week is shaping up to be busy and freaky. I'm glad I was still in the fog of sleep with the quake hit so I couldn't spend too much time pondering if it was my fault for dreaming about earthquakes (in March, or May, my dream was an "M" month) and of course with all the world news lately about tectonic plates it does give you pause. Then I went back to sleep, until the real 4 a.m. came to pass.
Posted by laurie at 11:49 AM
March 9, 2010
Truckin' like the do-dah man
Seen on the 101 today:
See that guy on the left?
Yep.
Posted by laurie at 9:47 AM
March 5, 2010
You see the hood's been good to me ever since I was a lower-case G
The city of Los Angeles is gearing up for its Super Bowl ... Oscar night! We know this because Hollywood Boulevard is closed and so the traffic is ... oh, I was going to describe it, but instead here's a picture I took yesterday:
Yep. That's what traffic is like.
On Oscar Sunday I am making these alleged kale chips people have been telling me about... if you've made them and have a specific recipe you like, let me know! I'm skeptical at best that a pile of leaves can turn into anything worthy of the name "chip" but I am going to try it and hope to be very pleasantly surprised. Luckily I will have real chips on hand in case the leaf thing doesn't work out.
- - -
Last night's Idol eliminations were pretty much what I expected except I thought the red-haired gal would go before the pretty curly haired girl (who I thought was very gracious when she got booted). Does anyone watch the whole results show? It's like Chinese water torture to me! I just forward through to the kiss 'n cry parts and it's a total of about six minutes of TV viewing. I can't imagine having to sit through the whole thing. I love fast-forwarding ... sometimes I think I am dating my Tivo and it's the best relationship I have ever had.
- - -
Tortie action shot! So ready for the red carpet.
Posted by laurie at 8:08 AM
March 3, 2010
Oh happy day, when the rain came and washed our smog away...
Apparently it rained last night. I went to bed early as I had to be up at the armpit of a.m. and I must have slept through it. When I was driving in this morning on the freeway the air was fresh and you could smell the blooming jasmine, it's incredible. I love March in Los Angeles.
This bumper sticker might be saying "Do not take pictures of my bumper!" but I don't know since I don't speak Hebrew:
Recently a reader asked how I am able to take pictures while driving a stick shift. This question implies that I am actually driving. Is idling along in neutral for hours a week considered driving? But I only take pictures when I'm at a standstill because I'm all about the safety dance... except when I see something so momentous or on fire that it MUST be captured on camera and even then I keep my eyes on the road and just generally aim the camera in the direction of the on-fire thing. Or the momentous thing, like this LOS ANGELES POLICE OFFICE TALKING ON HIS HANDHELD CELLPHONE WHILE DRIVING:
It is against the law in California to talk on a handheld cell phone while driving and there he was, an officer of the LAW, tooling up the 101 just yammering away and laughing and having a good old time talking. I gestured at him, I waved out my window, pointing, making a big to-do and he didn't see me right next to him gesturing madly to please hang up and drive because he was just blind to the world, chitchatting away on his handheld phone.
I see people all the time obviously flouting the cellphone law (and the texting law) but of all the people to break the law you wouldn't think it would be those sworn to uphold it. Jeezfreaking Louise.
Wow, it was hard to get up on my high, high horse so early in the morning but somehow I managed.
Moving on.
Over the weekend I went to Chez Nous in Toluca Lake for a birthday breakfast for my friend Christine. Here she is smiling with the lovely Ellen Bloom:
We met up there with another friend, Liz, and had a fantastic lunch. Now as you know I am not someone who thinks a salad is a real meal. I never knew anyone who thought a salad was a meal until I moved to Los Angeles (also where I am from "salad" is usually describing potato salad, and it is accompanied by meat and something fried.) But the salad I ordered at Chez Nous was really great and was definitely a meal, mainly because it had a whole chicken on it and was the size of Rhode Island:
It was so much fun being a Lady Who Lunches for a day. Happy birthday Christine!
Posted by laurie at 8:27 AM
February 26, 2010
That was fun!
Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who came out last night to Barnes & Noble. It was fun!
The best part was seeing old friends (I didn't take enough pictures, though!) like Denise:
And the next best part was at the end when it turned into an impromptu Stitch 'n Bitch meeting:
I am so incredibly grateful to everyone who's stuck with me and decided to Tivo the Olympics (or Idol!) and come out on a Thursday night. And I thank those who were there in spirit but in body were in a different time zone.
Speaking of Idol, what the heck? Tyler Grady gone and the five completely forgettable guys with the same hair get to stay? Is it because the audience is too young to remember the supercool Robert Plant rockstar stance? Totally mysterious.
Tonight it's supposed to start raining here so we're on STORMWATCH!!!! It's very exciting. Have a great weekend everyone!
Posted by laurie at 7:05 AM
February 25, 2010
Crazytalk!
I was just in the elevator on my way up to the coffee, or my office, but coffee first, and I got into the elevator with two very tall, pretty girls who were having a hard time getting their badges to work in the elevator scanner and so I made a comment about this building being like the Pentagon, or something incredibly useful like that, and one of the girls said, "Are you Laurie Perry?"
And I am still asleep in the mornings, so I didn't think it through and I thought, maybe my redonkulous responses have been documented somewhere on the corporate intranet so she knows it's me? then I said, "Yes I am. Hello?" Then: maybe she works in my building and maybe I made a brochure for her once or something. We do so much work via email here that you often don't meet face-to-face.
"I don't work here, I'm a fan!" she said, "I have your book!" and I almost fell over! Because you know, I am at the Bank in my be-incognito-at-work attire and also, no coffee, and also, how cool is that!
She said she was just in town as a consultant so I invited her to our shindig tonight. I hope to see you there! I'll even be wearing mascara this time and will be awake to make real conversation, probably not about the Pentagon but one can never be too sure.
Barnes & Noble at The Grove
189 Grove Drive, Los Angeles, CA 90036
Thursday, February 25th, 2010
7:00 p.m. [ Map here ]
- - -
p.s. Chris did a hilarious interview with the cats today. You can read it here! When do those cats get the time to give interviews???
Posted by laurie at 8:57 AM
February 24, 2010
See you tomorrow night at 7 p.m.!
It's almost time...
Barnes & Noble at The Grove
189 Grove Drive, Los Angeles, CA 90036
Thursday, February 25th, 2010
7:00 p.m. [ Map here ]
(I think a few weeks ago I accidentally said it was at 7:30 p.m. but on the B&N calendar they have me for 7 p.m. Whoops!)
I'll be the one trying to look taller. Bring your knitting (and yes, if you already bought the book you can bring it in the store) and we'll have a little knit night. I'll be doing a short reading from the book and then we'll do some Q&A for as long as you want to chitchat then I'll sign some books.
La Soba will be staying at home:
Kitty tongue!
Oh, p.s.
Did anyone watch AI last night? What did you think of the top 12 girls?
And p.p.s.
Can anyone recommend a great knitted glove pattern that you tried and liked making?
Posted by laurie at 8:56 AM
February 20, 2010
Stalkerazzi
I was just out driving back from the store and passed Marmalade on Ventura Blvd. and there was a pack of paparazzi out front, a knot of 40 or 50 guys with cameras jostling around on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. Must have been a big A-lister inside, you usually only see that kind of lens for Britney Spears.
The police had been called and there were three squad cars out front and five or six cops trying to keep the path to the front door clear. That is crazy! The first thing that went through my head is... I cannot imagine living like that. Can you imagine not even being able to go to lunch without a pack of hounds taking your picture? The next thing that went through my head was... I wish the traffic was stopped so I could take out my camera and take a picture of the picture-takers. Funny.
Posted by laurie at 2:34 PM
February 19, 2010
It's like Nashville with a tan.
No tanning today in the city of angels, it's grey and dreary and we even had mist this morning on the 101. Maybe it's more like Nashville than we'd realized. One of the best things about Tennessee weather is that if you don't like it, just wait a few hours and it might change! I went to college in Middle Tennessee and I can't believe how soon after leaving the South I turned into a wimp, acclimated to Los Angeles weather and became personally offended when the sky clouded up. That's the power of perpetual sun.
This is weird, and has nothing to do with anything: Ants. If you live in Southern California you will at some point in your life have an ant problem. The entire region is built on a giant anthill. When I was married we lived in this big house in North Hollywood and had the worst ant problem ever. And in my little house in Encino-adjacent I had problems from time to time, once it rained so hard outside that the ants in the ground all came out and converged on the cement patio, so the whole thing was covered, it was beyond gross. No matter how much you clean, no matter how vigilant you are, if you live here you will get an ant. It happens. I personally declared a holy war against ants and I will do just about anything to eradicate them. I try not to use any poison because of the cats, but I noticed the ants hate vinegar and I will spray them vigorously until my house smells like pickles. Plus it makes the mirrors shiny.
I haven't had any problems at all in my new apartment until this week I noticed about ten ants near the cat food. But the weirdest thing is there is no way to tell where they're coming from. Usually there's a trail and you can find the point of entry and seal it up. This was beyond bizarre, they just appeared randomly with no apparent trail. And just six or ten of them. But where there is one ant there are 12 million, so I've been vigilant, moving the cat food from place to place, confusing the cats and so far avoiding an invasion.
But I'll take California ants any day over the profusion of bug life back in the South, especially my longtime enemy The Horrifying Palmetto Bug. They are gigantic flying roaches, people. They are the Worst Bug Ever, except maybe the camel cricket. Eewwwwww.
I know I have already told this story somewhere, but once when I was about 12, I was living in Louisiana and in the middle of the night I had to get up and go to the bathroom. So there I was just sitting on the pot, half-asleep, and I saw this big long brown thing over by the tub and I thought, "Hmmm, I must have left a barrette in here." I didn't have my glasses on, mind you.
Then the barrette started walking across the floor! I screamed (and woke up the whole house) and I HAD to squash it or something before it attacked but I was in my nightgown and didn't have any shoes on, obviously, and then it started to flap around so I used the only weapon I could find -- a can of Rave Hairspray #4. I sprayed like my life depended on it, until the threat had been neutralized and the bathroom was covered in hairspray and my little brother went into an asthma attack from the fumes. Any time I start feeling full of myself my family likes to remind me of the time I screamed and pitched a hissy and attacked a bug with hairspray and we all had to vacate the house for a while to let it air out.
Good times.
Mmmm, bugs! Sounds tasty!
Posted by laurie at 8:42 AM
February 10, 2010
It's good to have a radio and a propensity for daydreaming when you're stuck on the 101.
Ah, Los Angeles, city of a million bikini wax options, home of the blonde, land of the screenplay. The latter could be composed on one of our freeways during rush hour but I suggest composing your next big blockbuster while seated comfortably on the Hollywood Freeway, its name alone bringing you closer to lights, action and cameras put to good use while idling:
Rainy day commute. Can it still be considered "driving" if you are just sitting still?
I'm in traffic a lot and it rarely bothers me, I love singing along to the radio and daydreaming and looking at the scenery. And I love taking pictures while I'm sitting still. I don't think it counts as distracted driving since 1) I am not actually moving for long periods of time and 2) I'm still watching traffic, albeit through a lens. I know Oprah is really pushing hard against distracted driving and I agree with her! Of course who am I to say, I never text, driving or not, my fingers are too fat to type on my phone. For goodness sakes just call me or email me if you have something to say! (Am I getting old? Is this the first sign of aging, being text-adverse?)
But some folks find that's the way to while away the freeway hours:
Me, I prefer taking pictures of the crazy beautiful sky:
And RAINBOWS! Rainbows in Los Angeles!!
That's out the back of the Jeep window. (When I said traffic was not moving, I wasn't exaggerating for heightened drama. If you want to know what this kind of traffic is like, just go to your local mall and pull into the parking lot behind a parked car and then idle, waiting for the parked car in front of you to move. That's L.A. traffic.)
Here's a rainbow over Hollywood, seen through the side door:
This morning the city is sunny and SO BEAUTIFUL, I wish you could see L.A. after a hard rain, it's the most gorgeous place on earth. All the buildings are shiny and sparkling and the air is fresh and crisp. The local mountains are covered in snow and they frame the city like a picture postcard:
And of course a beautiful day isn't complete without a cat picture!!
La Soba.
Happy Wednesday!
Posted by laurie at 10:21 AM
February 3, 2010
If there's traffic and Dallas Raines, we must be in Los Angeles.
Good morning, freeway!
How YOU doin' today?
- - -
It's an El Niño year, which means we're going to have more RAIN. I know, I know, you're digging out under a snowbank and saying don't cry for me Argentina with your silly rain ... but that is because you have no idea how hard it is for us Los Angelenos. We're not accustomed to all this moisture falling from the sky. We like our air to be crunchy, our roads to stay dry and our weathermen to be perpetually bronzed:
Stern Dallas Raines!
Dapper Dallas Raines!
This has been a long, hard winter. We haven't seen an 80-degree day in weeks! I even had to go buy an "umbrella" device. How ever will we survive in such conditions?
Is the cat blurry or did it melt from all the rain? We may never know!!!!
Posted by laurie at 10:09 AM
January 20, 2010
You can stand under my umbrella.
Yesterday midday we had a big storm cell pass right through downtown and there was even thunder and lightening. When the big clap of thunder came, people got out of their chairs to go look out the windows. One of my co-workers asked, "Is someone filming down here? Did they just do an explosion?" and we all said we thought it was thunder, but there was some discussion about it because there had been filming down on 5th street last week.
"No, it was thunder," someone finally said. "I remember hearing that sound once when I went to Mexico on vacation."
We're a wacky city, aren't we?
But it was GREAT for traffic, since I guess people got scared by the thunder and what it might mean for rush hour and apparently everyone went home early because I coasted home around 6 p.m. in under 40 minutes flat, which is a record even on a clear day in the summer when school is out and traffic is lighter. My coworker K. lives in my neighborhood and she and I were comparing notes about the commute and after we both said how good traffic had been she looked at me, stricken, and said, "Oh crap, I bet we just jinxed it."
We are very superstitious here about our traffic!
There were waterspouts as Dallas Raines predicted, like tornadoes of water, and they chewed up boats in the harbor and ripped up some homes and cars. In the Valley we had some wind and rain but my neighborhood is all clear and even though I am watching my roof and waiting -- knock on wood -- it's still holding for now. Just last week I was lounging on my rooftop patio thinking how great it was in January to read in the sunshine up on the rooftop and now my patio is a swimming pool. It's very exciting.
Tonight we're supposed to have rain of Biblical proportions and since K. and I jinxed traffic I can only imagine what lies ahead. But I still like the rain, it's so different from our usual sunny hallucination and it makes the city clean again, so downtown no longer smells like a human cat box and all the sidewalks are washed and even my Jeep gets a little bath.
Posted by laurie at 9:24 AM
January 19, 2010
And then Dallas Raines said, "Let water fall from the sky and let the earth be drenched, and let us spray-tan while the sun hides itself from us..."
Ah, sunny Los Angeles. You know that we're in for a weather event of the decade when Dallas breaks out the STORM TRACK logo:
We've gone from Storm Watch to Storm Track in just hours! So exciting! Live team coverage! It's the biggest story of the day, especially for the reporters forced to stand on overpasses in slickers and that one guy who always has to stand on a frozen street somewhere in the mountains while it spits freezing rain at him. Although it was typical for Los Angeles that while the news was heralding the storm of the century and had live team coverage around the city, this was the weather outside:
Sunny. For now ... (she said ominously!)
The weather outside looks frightful, though. It did rain and gust and so on -- real rain, not mist -- for a big portion of the day yesterday and the rest of the week looks insanely soggy for the sity of sun and botox:
It's raining cats and dogs and waterspouts!
Unless you live in the Valley where it's raining cats and dogs and palm trees! Raise your fist and represent!
Now, you may be thinking to yourself, "Self, why Is Los Angeles having a hissyfit over a few inches of rain? We get two inches of rain an hour here in the summertime. Five days a week."
Well, we did get just around two inches of rain yesterday in the Valley and here is what two inches of rain does to one of the most traveled freeways in the United States:
It's a panic in your pants!
And here is a picture of the backup on the 101:
I am beyond happy that yesterday was a bank holiday and I got to stay home all day and do my little hermity home things and take pictures of traffic on my TV instead of sit in traffic on my fanny. It wasn't raining this morning so I drove in but I assume that tonight I will be sprouting butt-roots into the seat of my Jeep as I inch home along the 101 River.
- - -
In other news, having a long weekend I assumed I would get a bazillion things checked off my to-do list and I was very wrong about that. There are many great things about having a larger home but cleaning it is not one of them. It was so much easier to clean 800 square feet than to keep this behemoth clean, and I planned to clean the apartment top-to-bottom all weekend and found myself feeling not as energized about scrubbing as hoped, and more excited about knitting while watching movies as the cats stretched out in front of the fireplace. I did manage to take down my Christmas tree on JANUARY SEVENTEENTH, by which point it had become part of the decor and I was seriously asking myself if I could just remove the really Christmassy ornaments and leave the rest up all year round.
I did spend a lot of time in the kitchen, though. It was cold and blustery outside (for us, anyway, this is more winter than we see in five years time!) and I decided to cook some of my favorite winter foods, like pot roast in the crockpot and mashed potatoes with kale:
First you mash the potatoes (I use yellow potatoes so it seems like they're drenched in butter) (tricky, no?) and then I add sauteed, chopped kale:
Yummy.
(whoops! I pressed publish before I was done!)
Anyway, I read this article that says most people make New Year's Resolutions and they're going strong right up until the first or second week of February and then they fall off the map. I generally last a little longer but by March I may be jonesing for a cheeseburger. I thought I would plan ahead and cook some of my favorite foods and freeze them so I have a whole store of Resolution-ready stuff on hand when my desire for a quarter pounder with cheese becomes stronger than my desire to cook. Pot roast and mashed potatoes is a favorite, definitely.
I also continued my roasting madness by taking on the asparagus:
It was good. I forgot to take an after picture. I roasted some broccoli, too, and did all of it the same as the cauliflower: preheat the oven to 375, cut the vegetable in small pieces, give it a good drench of olive oil, add a pinch of salt, pepper and a bit of cayenne and add chopped garlic and top with lemon juice from half a lemon. Spread on a pan and roast until tender on the inside and browned on the outside. Asparagus is not my favorite vegetable but it was great roasted. Just a guess here but I think pretty much anything tastes good when it's drenched in olive oil and garlic and topped with Parmesan cheese.
So that was the weekend and the week ahead looks soggy with a chance of pot roast. Beware of waterspouts and flying trees!
Posted by laurie at 9:34 AM
January 18, 2010
MLK Day Weather Madness!!!
The rain keeps pattering down, we're having what's supposed to be crazy amounts of weather -- a whole week of rain! It started yesterday and there's no end in sight. For a place that usually gets between two inches and five inches of rain all year, getting that amount in a two or three day period is quite a newsmaker.
Luckily today is a holiday and I can stay home and listen to the rain and drink coffee in my pajamas and knit. A perfect day!
Posted by laurie at 5:07 AM
January 13, 2010
Soggy
We did get our promised five one-hundredths of an inch of rain, just enough to make the city feel like winter and the traffic to come to a dead halt on the freeways. The streets of downtown are empty, though. Guess everyone is still trying to get here.
Dallas Raines says that we're going to have BIG winter storm on Monday and Tuesday of next week, with maybe a whole inch or two of rain! We sometimes only get four inches of rain in an entire year, so you can imagine that people will be calling in sick and there will be a run on frizz-ease at the Rite Aid. I love this goofy place.
- - -
Are you watching American Idol this year? I haven't watched it since season four or five, it was just too much of a time commitment. It's a lot of TV. But since this is Simon's last year and since Ellen is the new judge I thought I'd tune in. Last night was the first set of auditions in Boston and I can't believe I am telling you this but I got teary eyed a few times, just watching people get so excited about giving a great audition and making it through to "Hollywood" (which is really "Burbank" but whatever.) I'm a sucker for seeing people with a dream get a break in a business that seems impossible.
Mostly though, I was astonished at how thin Victoria Beckham is and how she manages to stay alive and still be that skinny. It was kind of alarming.
Our celebrities keep getting skinnier and our population keeps getting inversely fatter. Obviously I am not drawing any groundbreaking conclusions here, this is all stuff we already know, but this is probably the first time in my life I've started to let go of my hope of ever being really skinny again and instead I am just holding onto the goal of being healthy and getting back to an average size. My goal in the past has always been to lose weight and get skinny. Now I'll just be happy to buy my clothes in the regular section of the store and call it a day.
- - -
So that's Wednesday. Tomorrow should be sunny again, with moderate winds and less navel-gazing.
Posted by laurie at 9:54 AM
January 12, 2010
Big! Winter! Storm!
Although we've made it through winter so far with our 78 degree temperatures and sunny days, all is about to change and bring the second largest city in the United States to a crippling halt:
Dallas Raines says MIST IS COMING!!!
Now you may be saying to yourself, "Self, why is Los Angeles crying like a baby at their five one-hundredths of an inch of rain when we've had 15 feet of snow? And why are they are breaking out the down parkas and handknit alpaca scarves for a high temperature that would send all of us here into shorts and T-shirts?"
Well, this may seem crazy to you when you've just spent two hours shoveling snow off your driveway, but do you have any idea what five one-hundredths of an inch of rain can do to the shiny finish from your recent car wash? The water spotting is really tragic.
Plus, apparently the jet stream will be bringing us... uh, palm trees:
Just in case you wanted to know what the weather is like in places that have no weather, well, now you know. We have palm trees in the forecast. Keep us in your prayers.
- - -
This morning I was running late and I really wanted a smoothie but I don't have a suitable travel mug for straw-based drinks. Conundrum!! Then my redneck ingenuity gene kicked in and I was quite impressed with myself as I made my smoothie, poured it into its usual tumbler, wrapped the top in plastic wrap and poked a hole for my straw:
I would have gotten extra Cracker points if I'd secured it with a rubber band OR if the tumbler had a Coors logo but I do live in Los Angeles and we can only assume I have suffered in the Cracker Ass McCracker department because of my proximity to the left coast. Still, I was pretty full of myself for fixing this problem. Hee.
- - -
Yesterday when I was waxing nostalgic about the good old days when people used to be able to greet you at the gate at the airport I was just.. being nostalgic. And you know how nostalgia can be, very rosy and reminiscent and not truly that accurate. For example, people also used to smoke on airplanes and air travel used to be prohibitively expensive and it was much harder to get from here to there since there were fewer options and internet travel hadn't been born yet.
And why am I feeling all nostalgic about this anyway when I usually travel alone and no one would be meeting me anyway, and all those happy homecomings might make me feel sad instead of independent and world-traveling-pants as I do now?
As I was driving in to work this morning I was thinking that things have also changed in a good way. For example, flying feels safer than it has ever been. I flew a lot before 9/11 and have flown even more since then, and while security is sometimes tricky for the most part it's orderly and seems to make people behave better. I have noticed that since 9/11 you rarely encounter a belligerent or ridiculous passenger making demands and threats to the flight attendants or other passengers or causing a scene because they know that a team of armed guards and FBI agents will meet them at the gate with handcuffs. This is a GOOD thing. Especially on long trans-Atlantic flights where alcohol flows freely and people can easily get obnoxious.
And flying is cheaper in general, making a trip to another country affordable and more accessible than ever before. It gives more people the opportunity to travel abroad and when you travel you see how alike we humans are, no matter what language we speak. And that diminishes fear which is a really good thing! Fear eats away at your quality of life. When I get scared to try new things I remind myself that I will not be lying in the hospital bed dying and wishing I had watched more TV. ("I really wished I hadn't missed that season of CSI Miami ... someone push the morphine drip...")
Nostalgia is one of my default settings, but I have noticed I sometimes feel all rosy or maudlin about things that weren't even that good at the time. I refuse to let the idea of terrorism change my life or the way I look at travel. Air travel is still a gazillion times safer than any other mode of mass transportation and the idea that you can start in Los Angeles and end up in Prague or Moscow or Buenos Aires in just a few hours is still pretty freaking amazing.
- - -
Finally, this morning I saw this car waiting to get on the freeway on-ramp ahead of me:
Hello Kitty!
Posted by laurie at 8:59 AM
January 5, 2010
My beautiful January
There's dapper Dallas Raines giving us the best weather in the nation. January in Los Angeles is paradise, you know that somewhere else people are shoveling snow and freezing off the tips of their noses but here it's prime flip-flop weather, beautiful, crystal clear and sunny.
For about two or three weeks each summer we get this sweltering heat that makes me insane, but the rest of the year is delicious and bright. January in Los Angeles is always my favorite. On Sunday I had brunch with Jennifer and Amber and we sat out on the patio at the restaurant in our t-shirts, soaking in the sun. I don't even know what it's like to bundle up each day, wrap yourself head to toe to prevent frostbite. I like to take vacations to cold places because it feels like you've really gone somewhere different but I'm guessing the novelty of winter wears off pretty quickly if you live in it.
This morning traffic was back to its usual snail's pace but I didn't mind because the sun was out but it was still chilly (OK, our chilly is about 55 degrees...) and that's my ideal combination. A little music on the radio, a little sun on your face, a cool breeze. Got to love January in L.A.
Posted by laurie at 9:26 AM
December 11, 2009
A Rainy Day
I love the rain, even if it does make traffic epic and even if I have manged to lose all my umbrellas since moving. I like the way the city gets grey and cold and misty and it feels almost like a different city altogether. Most of my vacation traveling has always been done in the dead of winter or the more affordable shoulder season and so when I think of cold, grey skies and spitting rain I think of Prague on February, Poland in October, Paris in March. For 349 days a year Los Angeles is sunny and bright and the few rainy days we have are such a departure from the ordinary that everything feels changed.
And I think a little part of me has vacation fever, or maybe just cabin fever. Or fever fever. Mostly I'm just glad it's Friday so I can have a weekend to myself, to sleep late (or sleep at all), to drink coffee in my pajamas and not have to talk to another blessed soul. It's supposed to rain all weekend, too. Perfect. Perfect for hibernating and knitting and daydreaming of vacation.
Posted by laurie at 8:55 AM
November 5, 2009
Dallas Raines and Ralph, my two favorite men
The beginning of the week brought November and summer, it was ninety degrees downtown. Dallas promises that summer will end eventually and I hold onto hope:
Doesn't he look like he's delivering the bad news with that stern expression, telling his fans that sad but true we'll have to endure several days of partly cloudy. However will we manage?
At least it's not going to be ninety degrees today again. I have the physique of someone better suited to winter wear than summer attire, it would be nice to finally get the accompanying weather.
- - -
This week I splurged and bought a beautiful orchid I've been eyeing at the grocery store:
Los Angeles has spoiled me with grocery stores that are like carnivals, my local Ralph's is a destination in itself. There are fifteen different types or orchids in the floral area, and you can buy small appliances in the aisle next to it, or the entire Paula Deen cookware line. There are gourmet cheeses, the deli with fat tamales and delicately stacked sandwiches, a pet food aisle a mile long with everything you need for the pampered cat or dog or hamster. Everything under the sun. Spicy gluten-free snack foods and little jars of picked everything, from miniature ears of corn to slim white asparagus stalks to olives stuffed with garlic or pearl onions or almond slivers. And depending on which Ralph's you pick, your celebrity sighting list will grow with every single visit. Even though I have lived here for almost fifteen years I still get a little thrill each time I see someone from TV picking out cereal or lemons or dog food in my grocery store.
One of my favorite scenes from any movie is from The Big Lebowski -- not a favorite movie of mine, but I do love the scene where he's asked for ID and pulls out his Ralph's club card. I remember being in the audience in the movie theater in Burbank and everyone just burst out into hysterical laughter. That was before every store on the planet had a special discount card, of course, and the Ralph's card was still just a new goofy local thing, and anyway, it was so spot-on, a perfect joke.
So I spotted this orchid at Ralph's and it came home with me last night. It's on top of the mantle so nobody chews it to a nub. I never really had a place before to put indoor plants where the cats couldn't get to them, but in the new apartment nobody jumps on the mantle. I like seeing it in the morning when I come downstairs, it feels like such a luxury to start the day with an orchid. I should have bought one ages ago. It was ten bucks, a small price to pay for beauty.
- - -
Dictionary.com says both eying and eyeing are correct but eying looks weird to me.
- - -
Everyone is complaining about the commute home this week. But I was talking to Amber yesterday and she said, "I don't care. I don't want to move anywhere else. Where would I go? This is Los Angeles.... we have everything." I get so used to people bitching and complaining about the city that I am happily relieved to know others are as in love with this crazy place as I am.
This city isn't just where I live, it's the other character in my life story. L.A. has its own personality and irritations. I love it like it's my own unruly child, my errant boyfriend, my ridiculous but charming roommate who steals my car but gives it back after a high speed chase on the evening news, so that even my car was on television at least once. (It was.)
Everyone hates the traffic, that's a given. But I've lived in towns so small there isn't even a single yellow blinking light strung between poles at an intersection and I felt caged in by the intimacy of it. It's not that one is intrinsically better than the other. They're just different. Some people crave that kind of quiet and serene pace but I feel plugged in to the world when I merge onto the Hollywood freeway. Anonymous, vast, constantly moving. It's my own internal rhythm matched by a city I picked voluntarily and can't seem to leave. I tried to leave it last year, I was planning to move to France, getting the cats all their paperwork and mentally crating up my stuff and practicing my verb conjugation but in the end I just couldn't do it. Maybe one day. Maybe not.
My coworker from New Jersey has only been here a year, not quite long enough to just accept traffic, stop resisting it. He's still in the abusive relationship stage: fighting it, yelling at it and making up later in a bar in Santa Monica where an Irish waitress with a stack of glossy headshots in her purse serves draft beer to beautiful people who are all from somewhere else.
"I warned you that everyone forgets to drive in the dark," I told him. "The worst traffic days of the year are Valentine's Day, Halloween and that fateful week after we dial the clocks back. And rain, of course, but that's not on a schedule."
"I know," he said. "You told me and I didn't listen because I didn't believe people could possibly be SO STUPID."
"Oh, people can be so much more stupid," I say, reassuringly. "One day you'll wake up and instead of fighting traffic and being mad at it and asking 'why, why, why?' you'll be planning around it. That is when you know you have assimilated."
And it's all a trade-off anyway. There are a million places on the planet with no traffic and no helicopters hovering overhead and so much rain that people don't call in sick to avoid mist. But there are so few places on earth where you can select from over a dozen types of exquisite orchids right there in the grocery store, between the organic goat's milk yogurt and the Persian cucumbers, all while some actor from your favorite childhood TV show pushes a basket right past you.
Posted by laurie at 10:33 AM
October 23, 2009
Need a ride?
Is that a good thing or a bad thing?
Posted by laurie at 10:07 AM
October 21, 2009
Not reassuring at all
There is little danger of you becoming transported by aliens to another planet. There is little danger of you getting scabies or falling into a black hole. There is little danger of zombies eating your whole brain...
Posted by laurie at 9:38 AM
September 28, 2009
How do you solve a problem like Maria?
On Saturday night, Corey and her sister and I went to see the sing-a-long Sound Of Music at the Hollywood Bowl. I felt really bad about still being a little bit deathly even though it's been two weeks since I had The Cupcake Flu (by the way, I am hereby re-naming the swine flu. It is The Cupcake Flu. Or, alternately, the Rainbows and Butterfly Flu. You pick which strain you get.) But anyway, I was a little bit ghastly to be around the first hour or so. It was a million degrees out and we parked in Illinois and walked up Mt. Kilimanjaro to get to our seats and by the time we arrived I was ready for a nap in a chilled oxygen chamber.
Then I had a glass of sparkling wine and some little lettuce spring roll thingies and I was A-OK. Well, I was A-OK-ish.
I forgot to bring my camera and I tried unsuccessfully to take pictures on my phone, so here is the best picture I could get to commemorate this event:
My ticket.
It was completely packed, Corey said the event was sold out. Anyway, it was fun and then I spent Sunday in bed because apparently a night at the Bowl was too much for me, still recovering from Cupcake Flu.
Kind of makes you want a cupcake, though, doesn't it?
- - -
Thanks to reader Christy who wrote:
I too LOVE downtown L.A. at night. I get this exhilarating feeling, like my blood is actually dancing, like it's Christmas or Halloween or something exciting like that. It is wonderful to know that I am not alone in this! Truly, I am grateful to live in this town.And it's true - one can find anything in the Valley. I am developing a new appreciation for the Valley. I was born and raised in Silverlake and have just started really hanging out in the Valley. I have some friends who live in Studio City and Woodland Hills...and the shopping is off the hook!!! For me, it's like a mini vacation away from the downtown and eastside areas. So here's to Friday, and being grateful, and appreciating this exciting city in which we live!
I love that feeling like your blood is dancing through your veins! I never heard it described quite that way, but I get it! And I'm happy to hear folks are even now developing love for the Valley. No matter what you're looking for I have a theory you can find it in the Valley. Well, unless it's a stable, nice, normal, unmarried, straight guy with good manners and a decent job who is not addicted to porn or in The Program or in a cult/rockabilly band/cannabis club. In that case you're on you're own. We're still part of Los Angeles, you know ... can't win 'em all!
Posted by laurie at 3:43 PM
September 25, 2009
Friday at last
What a long, exhausting, HOT week! I am ridiculously thrilled for it to be Friday.
I've had to work late a few nights this week and the best part about working late is getting to see Los Angeles at nightfall. The whole city just twinkles and sparkles, it looks clean and perfect. Downtown is a ghost town at night -- no traffic snarls or mounds of pedestrians crossing against the hand. It's just me and the high-rise buildings with their shimmering windows and lights.
Sometimes I forget that I love working downtown. But I do love it. It's easy to get bogged down with traffic and commuting (and it does sometimes feel like we work on an island far from real Los Angeles) but downtown gives me a little thrill, too. I love living in a huge city with soaring buildings and being right in the thick of things. I like that feeling of walking up from the subway and seeing a slice of sky in between the high-rise skyline. I like that you can see the Hollywood sign from our breakroom and on a clear day you can see the ocean at Palos Verdes from my friend V.'s office.
And of course the best part is that after a long week I get to leave the twisted tangle of downtown streets and go back to the Valley and spend my weekend looking for the perfect curtain rod for my bedroom windows. And you can find anything in the Valley, that I promise you. Sometimes I try to picture myself living somewhere else (last year I very seriously contemplated a move to France, but it ended up not coming together) and I can tick off a few cities I love enough to move to: Paris, Madrid, Prague, Wroclaw, Copenhagen. But I'm not sure I can leave L.A. forever. Los Angeles is the closest I've ever come to a lifetime commitment. We fight, we break up, we make up, sometimes I have to leave all-the-sudden and then I'm so happy to come back a week later. I feel like I live on the very edge of the world here, as if at any moment anything could happen.
It's my favorite place I have ever visited and I knew I wanted to live here the first time I saw it when I was seven years old. All this time later I still can't believe I do!
Posted by laurie at 7:08 AM
September 16, 2009
Los Angeles: It's got a groove, it's got meaning
1) I'm on a Mexican Radio
Listen, it was weird enough when one day I'm listening to Rick Dees in the morning on 93.9 and then the next day I flip on the radio and it's Mexican love songs. Well, I figure, it's FM. It happens.
But then last week I go to listen to traffic on the ones on KFWB News 98 and all you hear is DR. FREAKING LAURA. Listen, I don't mind Dr. Laura, she's fine, whatever, but she's supposed to be over on KFI with all tho other talkalots. I don't listen to talk radio, I listen to news radio -- I have spent the past 14 years flipping between 980 and 1070 to get traffic on the ones and on the fives. Why would they do this to me? Why would they remove half of my news and traffic? I've taken it very personally. This is Los Angeles. We have traffic needs, people. Once every ten minutes is not enough.
This is why people are abandoning radio and buying those subscription radio thingies, which I refuse to do since I own a car that any five-year-old can break into and steal the radio. I had to listen to traffic on KOST 103 this morning! What is the world coming to?
2) The city of Angels is going bankrupt
Explain to me why we've got liquid gold flowing from the city coffers when it comes to hosting celebrity funerals or basketball team parades, but the city now cannot find the money to open City Hall more than twice a month?
I didn't vote for our Mayor, I thought he seemed slippery and a little seedy, and I did a lot of "I told you so..." to my friends when his salacious private affairs became public. Mostly I just wish someone who knew basic math and accounting would run for Mayor. In the meantime, can we hire Bob from AccountTemps to come in and do some line item auditing while our Mayor is off attending the opening of yet another envelope?
3) To the left, to the left ... no, to the right, to the right.
One thing that is free and easily available to all Californians -- yes, even those living and driving in Los Angeles! -- is the California's Driver's Manual. I am often amazed at the crazyass things I see on the road, but the absolute top of the crazymaking list is the way people respond to emergency vehicles.
It is not legal, normal or sane to come to a complete stop in the middle of the road, or the middle of an intersection, or in the middle of the freeway when you see sirens coming.
Here's what usually happens on side streets when people see sirens coming:
A: They move over to the right a little bit but keep driving because their destination is more important than the ambulance's destination.
B: They stop completely no matter where they are on the road, including in the far left lane, in the middle of an intersection or directly IN FRONT of the emergency vehicle.
C: They freak out and drive into the person next to them.
In case you're wondering, none of those options are the preferred method of dealing with sirens. On side streets (meaning non-freeway roads) you are supposed to move carefully and expediently to the right side of the road and then stop. STOP. All the way stop, not "just drive a little slower than usual, weaving around those who obeyed the law and stopped so that you can be first in line once the ambulance passes."
The actual driver's handbook text reads:
Emergency VehiclesYou must yield the right of way to any police car, fire engine,ambulance, or other emergency vehicle using a siren and red lights. Drive as close to the right edge of the road as possible and stop until the emergency vehicle(s) has passed. However, never stop in an intersection. If you are in an intersection when you see an emergency vehicle, continue through the intersection and then drive to the right as soon as you can and stop. Emergency vehicles often use the wrong side of the street to continue on their way.
On the freeway it's a whole 'nother ball of insanity.
Twice this month alone I have seen a procession of police cars with lights and sirens blazing coming up on the freeway. They usually come in a line on the far left lane (the number one lane) and I am not sure why this freaks people out to no end. I mean it freaks them out more than rain, even. I saw people come to a dead stop in the same lane police were trying to use to get to their big crime scene. Cars! Coming to a dead stop! In the number one lane!
Weirdos.
The rest of the freeway experienced a mass panic attack, too. Some people had actual brains and used them, moving carefully and expediently over into the right lanes of the freeway.
Some people came to a stop no matter what lane they were in.
Some people, we can only guess, spontaneously exploded.
Here is what the LAPD says about dealing with emergency vehicles:
If you hear a siren or see flashing lights on a freeway, you should:* Pull over to the right when safely able to do so;
* Continue to move forward at a safe speed; and
* If the operator of the emergency vehicle requests you to move in a certain direction via the PA system, please do so expeditiously.· DON’T panic!
· DON’T stop on the freeway!
So that's my little Public Service Announcement for this Wednesday morning. I had plenty of time to compose it in my mind on the way here, seeing as they've stolen my News 980 away.
- - -
Edited to add: I've had the comments off for so long I forgot that everytime I mention anything not stellar or perfect or peachy about my favorite city, people say things like, "Well you should move instead of complaining." Why on earth would someone leave that as a comment? Complaining is my cardio, people. And what normal person doesn't complain about where they live? Complaining about your city and making fun of your fellow city-dwellers, especially the drivers, is one of life's few certainties and pleasures!
Posted by laurie at 9:43 AM
September 2, 2009
Well, there is plenty of time to read in traffic.
Best personalized plate I've seen in a while!
Posted by laurie at 11:26 AM
August 28, 2009
News and more news
Headline #1: Los Angeles, the hottest destination this summer!
Last night a few of us stayed late and at one point I heard a coworker say, "WHOA. I CAN SEE FLAMES!" so I took a few pictures out of his office window.
Because there was no wind at the time, the column of smoke was flowing straight up and it looked a little like a volcano. Nutty. Fire season, what can you say?
- - -
Headline #2: The babies are coming, the babies are coming!
The first coworker baby has arrived! Here at Big Corporation, Inc., I have three bosses and the boss I am closest to is the one whose wife has been pregnant (they're the ones getting the red sweater with the ladybug buttons.) Bossman is really a sweet guy and his wife is lovely and they had the baby last night and all is well. It's very happy news.
- - -
Headline #3: Bob ponders his navel
Or, more likely, Bob naps. He gets so tired you know, all that sleeping can wear a guy out. He just gets so exhausted he has to take a little rest in between the shuteye and the snoozing and all.
Have a great weekend!
Posted by laurie at 9:21 AM
August 26, 2009
The smoke gets in your eyes (and your hair, clothes, and throat)
I had an appointment this morning and I drove in to work a bit later than usual. The smoke is just everywhere and there is no mistaking the smell of a California wildfire.
Traffic shot, driving. Perhaps not my best work.
It's eerie, all the smoke. And the summer is back, the heat was oppressive even in the morning. As I drove in I thought, I love this city. Even when it's smoking. Smokers need love, too, you know.
Downtown, skyline obscured by smoke.
Posted by laurie at 10:42 AM
August 14, 2009
Dinner at Rivera
Our little work group went out for dinner last night at Rivera in downtown Los Angeles. It was delicious! The ambiance is warm and posh, the food is unbelievable and the chef and waitstaff look like they stepped out of the pages of Vogue Dining. If you're looking for a perfect Los Angeles culinary experience you can't do better than this.
Rivera Restaurant
1050 S. Flower Street #102
Los Angeles CA 90015
213-749-1460 (reservations a must)
I forgot to take pictures of the lamb chop because I ate it too fast. Whoops. But here are some pictures from the evening. We did a tapas sampler/appetizers evening but of course you can do a full dinner, too.
Min, Joe (whe arranged the entire evening) and Chef chat about dinner.
Best salsa I have had in years.
Cool plate stencils made of chocolate and spices.
Corey and me.
Dessert, apparently these pictures are out of order..
Jen with chef John Sedlar.
Jennifer and me.
Roasted red pepper with cave-aged Gruyere and chorizo.
Hot and cold soup that you drink. Indescribably tasty.
Lovely Min with her handmade corn tortilla, they press fresh flowers into each one.
I'm hungry all over again!
Posted by laurie at 9:43 AM
July 8, 2009
One size fits all vowels
Posted by laurie at 8:50 AM
July 7, 2009
I love the smell of helicopters in the morning
The sound permeating downtown Los Angeles today is helicopter. Helicopters are ringing the skyline, hovering above, it's eerie. Like a scene out of some bad movie.
I decided to wait until after the closed the 101 (!!!) at rush hour (!!!) and the 101/405 interchange (only the busiest freeway exchange in the entire United States) at rush hour (!!!) before deciding finally to take the Orange Line to the Red Line and by then it was late enough that the crowds had thinned out.
I did see two guys in the 7th Street metro station wearing the glitter wristbands and felt a little jealous. At least they were going off to do something interesting, and not sit in a beige office and stare at a computer. And now I have to stay late because I came in so late. I'll admit it -- I signed up for the ticket lottery but didn't win. Must be the newspaper ink in my blood, but I can't bear to miss a great story.
But of course it's just another day at the office today for me. I'm not sure why, but I find the subway depressing. There's something grim about it, all those people sitting there, and always at least two of them (sometimes more, a group) making too much noise, wanting people to look at them and pay attention to them (but if someone stares or makes a comment, they're ready to mouth off, fight). Or the crazy people, which this city has in droves. And I always feel like I need a shower after I get off the train and out of the station, every station smelling like a mixture of pee and body odor and chemicals.
So I was relieved when the doors to the subway opened at my stop and I got off and then I saw the guys with the wristbands and as I walked up the stairs to the platform above, I saw a little knot of boys waiting for the blue line train. One of them was dancing and moonwalking and people clapped. I clapped too. He was pretty good, actually. They were all wearing Michael Jackson T-shirts and carrying flowers and candles and stuff. Then I walked to work.
Tuesday in Los Angeles.
Posted by laurie at 10:37 AM
July 6, 2009
Go big or go home (I vote for home)
Everyone in the office is talking obsessively about the Michael Jackson memorial tomorrow. More specifically, everyone is talking obsessively about the traffic situation. A lucky few (I hear) are going to try to work from home, although we don't have a work-from-home corporate culture around here, and judging from the way people look at you when you ask if you can try this "telecommuting" it seems to be synonymous with "spending the day turning tricks out on Venice Boulevard." Which is an office no-no.
So mostly people are discussing various modes of transportation based on where they live and what painful options are available. Helicoptering in seems to be the best option, but they've closed the airspace above downtown to all but news choppers and I'm having a hard time hitching a ride with the local networks. Canoe or sailboat might be a good second if only the L.A. River weren't just a paved sewage canal.
Just for once I wish that someone would pick someplace else other than downtown Los Angeles for their memorials, their riots, their protests, they May Day melees. What about cute downtown Pasadena? I bet that would make an excellent protest spot! Plus they have good shopping nearby! Or maybe one of the beach cities, like Palos Verdes. I hear it's Very Verde! Go have your traffic-snarling crazy-making party there next time. We are tired here in downtown. And we're not sure how much longer we can keep complaining.
Posted by laurie at 10:42 AM
July 2, 2009
Always with the resolutions
On New Year's Eve and again on my birthday I make resolutions. One set of resolutions is for the new calendar year and usually involves a list and revisions and sometimes even sub-headings and font changes. The other is for my birthday calendar year which happened last month, and that resolution is usually just one or two things, generally meant toward self-improvement or becoming a marginally nice person. Anyway, my recent birthday resolution was a good one but has been harder to keep than I thought.
I resolved that once a day (at least on days when I drive) I will actively allow someone else merge and/or change lanes in traffic.
This sounds silly and kind of empty to some folks. I know. Before I moved to Los Angeles "merging" and "making a lane change" were not life or death situations. But come here and visit and then you will re-think my resolution, and maybe you'll decide it is even damn near angelic of me ... especially after you try merging from the 405 onto the 101 and then getting all the way over to the right to exit at Coldwater. At rush hour.
Try it, I'll wait.
So that was the resolution I made. Then just last night I was driving home and some jerk tried to squeeze in in front of me in the 18-inch space between me and an SUV and I was so mad and I yelled, "You BLEEP, I already let my one person merge today!" and then I thought, wow. I really needed to make this resolution.
Really.
Posted by laurie at 8:32 AM
June 1, 2009
How do they know which house to come to? How?
On Saturday I discovered a teensy little furry baby opossum on my back patio. He was scared, as you can imagine, and he was clearly injured. It looked like he was missing a back foot, and he was cowering in the corner by the garden hose and the potted lemon tree and looking hungry and sad. And he was obviously a very smart little opossum because he knew exactly which house to come to in the neighborhood for love and attention and food.
Much to my parents' dismay, I have always been someone who takes in strays. And while I have been better in the past few years about no longer taking in strays of the human variety, I have yet to meet an animal I didn't love or want to take home or find a home or make well and happy. I had no earthly idea what to do with a baby opossum who was injured and all alone but I did the best I could, at least for the night. My vet was closed already and I had no one to call in the opossum knowledge department.
He had a little heated pad under his towel, there, and some kibble (which is probably not ideal but for one night was better than nothing) and some water and I have no idea if they use litter boxes but I made him one all the same.
The next morning I phoned my vet who immediately gave me the number to the California Wildlife Center. My vet assured me that these folks do everything they can to try to rehab and re-release an animal rather than euthanize. So I called them up and they said they would take him and Mr. No-Name Possum (because if you name it you keep it) and I drove to Malibu Canyon -- me in the driver's seat, opossum in a cozy box -- and the nice folks at the CWC took him in no questions asked. They didn't even charge for their services, they're a non-profit. The work these folks are doing is phenomenal, they take all kinds of injured and orphaned wildlife and help them heal and grow and then move back into the wild. As you can imagine my checkbook practically leaped out of my handbag to donate. I can't think of better ways to give money than to people who help the most defenseless of us all.
In fact! If you yourself are just sitting around today looking for somewhere to give a little donation of your own, might I recommend the California Wildlife Center? Take a look at their website, read a little about them, and if you have any to give here is their donations page with links to paypal. (They're a 501(3)(C) so your donation is tax-deductible, too.) I know these are tough times for a lot of folks economically. But just seeing what those folks were doing (they even had a little sea lion they were rehabilitating, and some orphaned fawns and all kinds of birds) just made me feel so grateful they're doing that work. And every little bit helps.
I was telling my mom about the opossum and the people who took him in at the California Wildlife Center and she said, "Doesn't it make you happier just knowing a place like that exists? It makes me feel better about the world, somehow." and I know exactly what she means. Like the world can't be all bad if there's a place for the little injured baby opossums.
Posted by laurie at 3:37 PM
May 19, 2009
Ok, enough!
All this week I'm taking a software class at a training facility that's practically sitting on a runway at LAX. In other words, it's close to the airport. The building is in Inglewood and the class is on the 12th floor of a high rise.
Today we were in class and the monitors started shaking and there was another jolt! and some rumbling. The instructor said, "We are either taking off, or there's an earthquake..."
Yet another one! This time I was sitting right on top of it, rolling, rolling. Delightful! When the class let out at the end of the day everyone fled to their cars, away from the scene of the quake. The girl in the ticket booth at the parking garage was completely freaked out, she told me she's from Detroit and she's decided to move back. Today.
Personally, I have decided that when the earth moves I prefer to be at home. And I prefer it in the figurative sense with some Gilles Marini/Jason Bourne character who is shirtless if you know what I mean and I think you do. Enough with this literal earth shaking! Let the sweaty figurative earth shaking commence!
Posted by laurie at 5:42 PM
May 17, 2009
Shaker? I don't even know her...
We just had a jolt, this was a big one. I was standing in the kitchen packing grapes for my lunchbox and I think I heard it before I felt it, at the very beginning I didn't realize it was an earthquake then it hit. And then we rolled.
All the glasses and mugs above the sink rattled, clinking together, and I dropped the grapes in the sink and went to stand in the living room where there's less glass. Just in case. And it lasted longer than any quake we've had in years. I have news radio on right now, they're saying it was a 5.0 centered in south Los Angeles, which is just down the 405 from here. (The USGS always seems to downgrade it after the initial assessment, by the time you read this maybe it was a 4.7 or 4.8).
We've had almost a decade of relative quiet and just this past year they've started, little jolts here and there and then one fairly strong shaker back in July but this one was different. Maybe because I was home alone and it's night, or maybe because it lasted so long. It was one of those things that had you wondering if it was going to intensify, if this was the one.
Then it ended, and I realized my hands were shaking and my heart was beating fast! Maybe I am my own personal Richter Scale... anything close to a five and I get skeered. I wonder if that counts as cardio?
Posted by laurie at 8:49 PM
May 8, 2009
We're Number One! Yay?
Forbes Magazine just released their annual list of the most expensive places to live in the United States. Guess who tops the list? Ah yes, Los Angeles. Home of the crazy.
Here's the full list:
Forbes: Top 20 America's Most Overpriced Cities
- No. 1: Los Angeles, Calif.
- No. 2: Chicago, Ill.
- No. 3: Miami, Fla.
- No. 4: New York, N.Y.
- No. 5: Providence, R.I.
- No. 6: Riverside, Calif.
- No. 7: Long Island, N.Y.
- No. 8: Cleveland, Ohio
- No. 9 (tie): Newark, N.J.
- No. 9 (tie): San Diego, Calif.
- No. 11: Philadelphia, Pa.
- No. 12: Portland, Ore.
- No. 13 (tie): Tampa, Fla.
- No. 13 (tie): Memphis, Tenn.
- No. 15: Orlando, Fla.
- No. 16: St. Louis, Mo.
- No. 17: Jacksonville, Fla.
- No. 18: San Francisco, Calif.
- No. 19 (tie): Warren, Mich.
- No. 19 (tie): Boston, Mass.
[Taken from this article, opens in a new window]
I don't know whether to feel proud or to hide beneath my desk. I think I'm just going to have some coffee and think about the orange I'm having for dessert tonight when I get home, I picked it from my tree, the very last orange of the season. I let it stay on the tree as long as possible to see how big it would get. It's huge!
One perfect California orange. Well worth the price of admission.
Have a great weekend!!
Posted by laurie at 9:14 AM
April 24, 2009
Eyes wide shut
I'm completely fascinated with all the people who wander around Los Angeles tethered to their electronic leashes. I mean they're technically ambulatory, but while they walk around they never look up from the small gadget in their hand. You see them everywhere, bent over and completely sucked in, they flick and touch and scroll around compulsively. These are humans but they remind me of lab videos showing rats pushing the lever over and over again for a fix. Men, women, old, young, business suits, dresses ... it can strike anyone it seems. They all hold some kind of electronic device, a fancy phone or crackberry or whatever, and they stay more connected to that tiny pile of circuits and metal doodads than they do with the actual living world.
I know this because they don't pay attention to where they're going, and I've stopped moving out of their way and we now collide in the plaza outside my building. And in the hallways and in the stairways. They're pecking away like chickens, completely engrossed in the gadget, unaware of humans and daylight and traffic and smack!
Fascinating.
Myself, I have no desire to have a phone so exciting that it makes me unaware of my surroundings, my friends and my city. I don't want to be hunched over staring at a tiny screen all day, I don't want to be interrupted in the bathroom or at lunch or when I'm on the bus to get an email from someone at work telling me the printer is low on toner. Or how about the urgent email that just says "Out of office - on my blckberry - will call u later." Just call later, it's no big deal.
I am fairly certain I feel this way because I am old.
Posted by laurie at 4:05 PM
Freaky Friday
This is for reader Gwyneth, who requested more pictures of the Great Soba:
That is one of my favorite pictures of her ever. I know the quality is poor, but she's so perfect, all asleep on the sheets in a ray on sunlight with her head on the pillow. This was taken a few months ago when I had a cold and was spending a weekend day lying in bed reading and sniffling, hence the Kleenex and The Celestine Prophecy
- - -
Yesterday something so weird happened. I had gotten home from work a little early, it was quarter 'til six and I was in the kitchen, trying to figure out what to make for dinner when I first heard the noise. It was a heavy, loud noise almost like an airplane.
Now I live on the Valley floor which is right under the flight path of practically every Southwest airplane to and from Burbank airport, and we get planes and corporate jets from Van Nuys airport, too. And there are the ever-present helicopters of course. This is actually a really noisy city, now that I think about it. So I'm used to hearing planes go by just like in Chicago folks get used to the train going by. It fades into the ambiance of the city. You know what a plane sounds like and it just becomes background noise.
But this sound was different. For one thing, it was LOUD. Screaming loud, like a roaring projectile, a deafening noise like you hear in movies when missiles streak across the sky. And it was FAST, whatever it was, because it roared closer in just seconds, so loud it obliterated any other noises. I immediately dropped what I was doing and ran to the front door and it was even louder and scarier and as I put my hand on the doorknob, I thought, Holy shit, that's a missile! and then I thought, We're going to vaporize. And I knew when the blinding light came I did not want to be standing in the yard looking at my neighbors who cannot get inside their cars without setting of the alarm. No, I wanted to be inside with my cats, who were now hiding under the sofa.
And since I can't fit under the sofa, I just sat down on top and waited.
Then as quickly as it came, it was gone. I could still hear it screaming through the air but it was getting further away. I felt that panic feeling all over me, just shaking a little and heart beating fast. I know I have an active imagination and all, but this was real. I know I'm reading all this crazy Michael Crichton books but I'm reading about dinosaurs, so it would make sense if I heard a noise in the yard and thought the raccoon hiding in the ivy was a velociraptor or something, but this wasn't made-up. It was real. So I walked out the front door and there were my neighbors, everyone staring up in the sky. You could see this huge arc of white smoke -- longer than anything I'd seen from an airplane before -- and at one end something that looked white or maybe silver in the sunshine, and it was definitely not a Southwest plane bound for Omaha.
I just looked at my neighbors. Then I said, "Oh my God, what was that thing?"
I was asking in the general direction of everyone, and the guy in the red baseball cap from across the street answered me.
"No idea," he replied. "I have no f---ing idea what that was."
Everyone else was just quiet. So I turned and went back inside and shut the door, then locked the deadbolt for no reason at all, and called my dad. I was shaking trying to dial the numbers. I called him because I am five, and I needed my daddy.
I told him the story and he said to watch on the news, that it was probably something from one of the military bases nearby and he was just talking all calm, turn on the news, and I already had the TV on and the Channel 7 news on but there was just some dumb sports report, and finally I hung up and poured myself a glass of wine. A big glass. Then I gave the cats a big can of Fancy Feast. Because I was still shaken up and we all needed to be comforted.
Now I'm wondering if it even happened at all. The news hasn't said anything at all about it. My dad pointed out it was probably some normal military fly over or something. But it wasn't anything I'd ever heard before, except almost like the time we saw the Space Shuttle launch in Florida. It was weird.
Mostly I can't believe how scared that sound made me. I know I live in a big city, and we all sort of go about our lives with this necessary denial that anything bad will happen today. It's just what you do. I try really hard not to listen to the horror stories on the news or the stuff about terrorists and missiles because there is nothing I can do about any of it, so there's no real reason to focus on it, worry about it, stress out over things which I have zero control over. But it must have sunk in there somewhere, North Korea test fires a missile or whatever the fearmongering headline was. It took me a while to calm down, and if it weren't for all my neighbors standing out there in their yards, too, looking up at the sky I would wonder if it had really happened at all. It wasn't on the 6 o'clock news, or the 6:30 report and it wasn't on this morning either, not at 5 a.m. or 6 a.m. Just some stuff about a minor earthquake out in Yorba Linda, and the traffic report and the weather.
Weird.
Posted by laurie at 8:13 AM
April 16, 2009
Good advice from unexpected places
My mechanic is a very nice guy named Oso. That is his nickname, his real name is Oscar, but everyone calls him Oso. He is a very large guy and he has a brilliant colorful tattoo of the Virgin on his left arm. Anyway, Oso has done a great job of keeping my Jeep running and happy for some time now. He is very impressed that I prefer to drive a stick shift and also that I get my oil changed every 3,500 miles just as he recommends.
I don't drive all that much but of course this is Los Angeles and you do end up driving some, even if you're a hermit. Driving is part of life out here. Back when gas reached $5 a gallon all over Los Angeles, I became really frustrated with The Man. I would leave for work in the morning and gas would be one price then by the time I got home the filling station on the corner had jacked up the price another ten cents per gallon, and this was happening every single day. I complained about it, but I got a lot of poison pen emails and comments from people in other countries along the lines of 1) "Shut up you stupid American" and 2) "Well stop driving if you don't like it." Which was really helpful and awesome as you can imagine. And also, totally solves all the problems! (Of course that was before the rest of the world began to experience the same rockstar economic stranglehold we'd been struggling with for months. Oh, Schadenfreude. You are so bittersweet.)
But I was still mad at The Man, because people were driving less and less (later studies confirmed this, but I knew it already from the utter lack of seats on every bus and subway car in Los Angeles) and gas was still going up ten cents a day even though demand was declining and then, just as the election rolled around suddenly LO And Behold! Gas dropped to under two dollars. Seriously? You're telling me that it was just normal fluctuation in prices? One day gas is five bucks a gallon and the next day it's a buck ninety-eight? Hey, I was born ... just not yesterday. You people are screwing with us. Stop it.
So anyway in my disdain and also eschewing (eschewing! like chewing, but only spitting out!) of The Man, I decided it would be awesome to convert my car to run on cat poop, which I have an amply supply of, constantly replenished each day. But until a poop combustion engine was created I would go veggie oil! No matter that my Jeep is not diesel, in everything in life I use the man-on-the-moon logic. This is how I think: We can put a man on the moon, surely we can do whatever silly thing it is I have set my sights upon today. Come on, people!
So I found a company that does conversions of gas (not diesel) engines to biodeisel and I gathered all the information and printed out stuff from the innernet and I drove myself one Saturday afternoon to see my mechanic, Oso. He works at a shop in sunny downtown Pacoima that has a huge mural on the outer wall with a sunset and the word "Jalisco!" painted in brilliant red letters.
Most of the guys at Autos de Jalisco know me, because a big blonde in a red Jeep is hard to miss in that particular shop. So I waved at Lil' Payaso, one of Oso's other mechanics.
"Hey Payaso! I'm looking for Oso!" I had my big folder of information in my hand, with certain passages highlighted and called out with post-it-note flags.
"Hey! Yeah, uh, Oso isn't here right now," he said. "You need me to change the oil on your Jeep?"
"No, I'm good." I said. "I wanted to show him this stuff about car conversions. You know when he'll be back?"
Payaso looked down at his shoe for a minute, and wiped his hand on a red cloth, then he looked at one of his buddies. Who was studiously not looking at me.
"Uh, Oso's gonna be gone a while," he said.
"OK, I'll come back tomorrow I guess," I said.
"Nah, he's not coming back tomorrow. He had to go away for a little while."
"Away?" I asked. "Where did he go away to?"
"Um, up north," he said.
So that is how I discovered that Oso was "up north" in Pelican Bay. Something about a parole violation. I didn't ask. He's a good mechanic, and I'm not married to him, so what he does is his business. Besides, people make mistakes. Just yesterday I myself almost stabbed someone with a fork 200 times. But I resisted -- for now.
I asked Payaso how to get in touch with Oso, after all, if he was currently a guest of the State of California, I figured he'd have plenty of time on his hands for reading up on engine conversions. So Payaso gave me Oso's mom's phone number and I called her up and after some funny Spanglish (me) and some bewildered questions about whether or not I was a guera (her), she gave me his address and I wrote him a letter and sent it along with all the information I had gathered.
Hey Oso, This is Laurie, the one with the red Jeep. I hope you remember me and don't think I am just some stranger writing to you. Anyway, Payaso told me you were taking some time away and your mom gave me your address. She was very nice, I hope I said the right words in Spanish. Hah hah remember that time I called you a cow when I was trying to be cool and call you a vato? Anyway. I am enclosing some information about converting my Jeep to bio-diesel. Please let me know what you think, as I am very angry about gas prices. Or if you can convert my Jeep to run on solar power. Or air! [smiley face] Last week I had to take my car for an oil change so I took it to the guys in the garage at work ... it ended up costing a lot and now I have a new radiator. I hope you are well and come back to L.A. soon. Your friend, Laurie with the red Jeep
I sent off the letter and a few weeks passed. One day I got home and I had a letter from Oso, with his prisoner number clearly visible in the top left corner of the envelope. He had also drawn a very good picture of my Jeep on the back. I am sure my postman now fears me.
Hello Laurie, This is Oso. Of course I know who you are and already I knew you would write me because moms told me a guera called up and she said your Spanish was real good. Anyways do NOT do anything to your Jeep!! I read the papers you sent and my celly read them also. We think this is a very bad idea. Also my celly says you can't buy the oil you have to collect it from fast food places and filter it. It is very hard. Don't take your Jeep to that guy again who put in the radiator. Take it to Lil' Payaso or go to the muffler shop on Arleta and ask for Dreamer, he will fix you up until I come back. I think you were joking about the solar car but don't let anyone talk you into anything, especially the radiator loco!!! I get out in a few months. Keep your tires inflated. Stay true, Oso
I thought that letter contained some good advice and was very wise, all written in very neat block letters on a sheet of notebook paper. I had to ask someone to tell me what a celly was, because I am that cool. (It is apparently the shorthand for cellmate. I didn't have HBO back when "Oz" was a big hit so cut me some slack!) My parents will be so proud.
Anyway this is a very exciting week because Oso is getting out of prison and coming back to Los Angeles. And now that I have passed the state smog check for at least two more years, and also now that people are fired up about alternate fuels, I think the time is right to re-investigate a Jeep engine that runs on cat poop. I personally think this is brilliant and am sure I can eventually convince the guys at Autos de Jalisco we have a lucrative new business venture ahead of us.
And when things start to go weird, as they have lately (see above: "Might stab someone with a fork.") I try to remember the good wisdom I got from my mechanic while he was up north. Things will all work out OK -- if we just stay true and keep our tires inflated.
Posted by laurie at 7:19 AM
April 15, 2009
Just another day in the neighborhood.
This morning on the bus a weird woman sat in front of me and kept turning around and staring. Not just staring at me, but sort of generally staring at all the people around and behind her with that expectant "I want to find someone to chat up!" face. When you take mass transit out here you learn early on to avoid the chitchatters. You don't engage, don't make eye contact, and treat them much like you would a wild hyena you encounter on your driveway. Walk slowly away, making yourself as invisible as possible. Keep your head down low. Never let them see your fear.
Crazy people LOVE me, though. They LOVE me. Sometimes it is my fault, because for flash, fleeting moments I forget I live in this crackass crazy city and I forget that when someone stops me on the street or the bus to ask me something they are just as often INSANE as they are lost and needing directions. Sometimes they are both.
On the news when something wacky happens in a neighborhood (man stockpiling weapons, nice family of five with a meth lab in the basement, serial killers, etc.) the reporter will interview the suspects's neighbors and the neighbors generally say something like, "Oh he was nice, quiet. Kept to himself a lot." I was thinking about this on my way into work since I am really the only quiet person on my block, the only one who keeps to herself. My neighbors are loud and sadly never keep to themselves. Sunday night it was the party people next door, and this morning it was the neighbors whose car alarm goes off each morning because they still forget to disarm it before opening the car door. On the weekends it's impossible to have a quiet moment in my 'hood because the family across the street conducts every conversation outdoors using their highest volume setting. They have become friends with another family several houses away and instead of using this newfangled "telamaphone" gadget, they just holler down the street to each other and all their collective kids. It's delightful.
Actually, I don't think they know how loud they are. For a while I thought maybe all their kids were hard of hearing since the mom has to yell at each one thirty times a night to come in, shut the door, bring your bike in, etc. Finally it dawned on me that poor mother had children with a rare strain of selective deafness. They seem to hear nothing their mother says between the hours of four and eight p.m. Fascinating! I was going to call my dad and ask if any of his children (though surely not me) had ever suffered from rapid-onset selective deafness but I didn't want to hear his answer so I didn't bother calling.
Anyway, I don't have a human head in my fridge or a drug lab in the garage but I am really the quiet one who keeps to herself in the neighborhood. If any of my neighbors ever get arrested I plan to tell the TV news reporter that they were loud, bothered everyone, and couldn't work a car alarm. And also I will complain about my evil arch nemesis, the ice cream man. Just 'cause.
Posted by laurie at 7:34 AM
March 5, 2009
From their bumpers to your ears.
Two very different life messages, two very different cars:
(Antique-ish Mercedes that also had a sticker letting folks know it runs on soy fuel.)
(Huge white truck with camper top and an NRA license plate holder.)
I love looking at people's messages ... they don't have to pin their hearts on their sleeves, they can just put some stickers on their cars. It's very liberating. It's like reading the tarot cards of someone's personality through the sayings they select to represent them.
That last picture was taken yesterday, in the rain:
As I was sitting there, completely stopped in my Jeep with rain coming down lightly on the windshield, I remembered there used to be a time when I liked the rain. No, I loved the rain. Rain makes everything cozy and close, and your neighbors are quiet (for once) because they're indoors, too, shuttered inside with maybe a good book or a movie or nothing at all, just laying on the bed and listening to it rain.
But now when it rains I don't think any of those thoughts, I just groan and mentally calculate how many hours it will add to my commute that day, and try to decide if it's worth driving all the way out to the Metrolink station and taking the train or whether the drive to the station would negate any time savings and I'd be just as late sitting it out on the bus that leaks and never comes on time. That's what I think of when I look out in the morning and see it raining -- not appreciation for the weather (especially in a place like Los Angeles, where it only rains five or six days a year) but instead a deep visceral sigh of despair, because of the traffic.
- - -
So, something very weird happened to me over the weekend. It was late Saturday and I was watching Wag the Dog
And I was all foggy-brained. I could remember the blue screen studio, getting someone coffee, eating sandwiches in a hurry and the jeans I wore. But it was hazy, almost like remembering a dream. And I just sat there, struggling in my own head, because I couldn't remember if it had really happened or if I had dreamed it or seen it maybe in a movie. But it felt real, it felt like it had happened and I vaguely remember me being in L.A. for just a year or so and taking a one-day job as a P.A. when I was still working part-time at the Daily News.
And I sat there on my bed with this fragmented memory -- me! me who is able to remember details of conversations I had with people ten years ago down to the pause -- and I wondered if this was it. If this was the moment, then, when I officially began to go crazy. Swimming in the grey matter somewhere was this half-real, half-remembered day and I couldn't fully access it. I wondered if this was what it felt like to become untethered slowly, one day at a time 'til crazy. Maybe it was only weeks or months before I'd be taking direct orders from a Pepsi can and wearing my bra on my head.
On Monday I told this disturbing incident to my friend Corey, who assured me she had also started having little half-memory incidents like that just in the past few years and she said maybe it's just part of aging, and her theory is that your brain does start slowly degenerating at this age and maybe you sometimes catch on a thought just as your brain is throwing it out (as ya'll know, I love crazyass theories and this one sounded good to me so I agreed with it.)
Except I don't want my brain to turn to oatmeal! I don't want my brain to slowly shrivel and mold. My brain is really the only thing interesting about me. I'm not tall or skinny or pretty or musically talented or even a natural platinum blonde anymore. Sadly. But my brain has always been a good companion, and it's always come in handy when called upon to get me out of boring or tedious or deranged situations. (Not so much useful in awkward situations -- just yesterday morning the EVP of our division came into the kitchen as I was getting coffee and said, "Good morning! How are you today?" and I replied not with "Fine, thanks and you?" or even just "OK." No. No siree. My awesome degenerating brain said, "I'm fine except there are no paper towels. So I asked myself, 'What would Al Gore do?' and I decided he would use a coffee filter to dry his cup." And the EVP just smiled politely at me, the poor slow employee.) (Thanks, brain.)
When I realized that my brain was experiencing aging and moldyness, I did what anyone who is in danger of a rapidly degenerating brain would do and I googled "how to keep your brain healthy." According to the internet you can keep your brain alive with Sudoku (I'll pass) or crosswords or by playing a musical instrument or learning a new language or reading. And something I never heard of before, must be a Latin word ... "exercise." Not sure how it's pronounced.
Corey suggested we play Boggle
- -
Maybe my brain needs an oil change.
Posted by laurie at 7:10 AM
February 12, 2009
It's chilly in the angel city!
Do you have any idea what this mystical substance is?
That's FROST on my windshield. That is a form of precipitation that is in a frozenish state! I wasn't sure what to do with it so I took a picture. It is very weathery here in Los Angeles these days. First we had two entire days of rain (!!!) and half my office called in sick because of it, and then the temperature dropped and it's so cold. I'm not sure how we'll manage with our partly cloudy skies and frigid 57 degree temperatures. It is a real hardship I tell you what.
Oh, I haven't posted many bumper stickers lately. I saw this one parked at Whole Foods the other day:
It always amazes me that folks slap a sticker on a bazillion-dollar vehicle. Fascinating!
Posted by laurie at 10:22 AM
February 5, 2009
It's very cloudy.... we know this much for sure.
The only big news in Los Angeles right now is the impending doom of RAIN!!! Very exciting. I can't wait to stand outside later tonight and get rained on while awaiting a bus that leaks and spend twelve hours stuck in traffic. Or maybe I am just grumpy! We're very busy at work. There are many art emergencies.
One of the best things about work is New Jersey, my new-ish co-worker who is one of those people who sometimes says the funniest thing you have heard in 22 days. I love people with a sense of humor, I think it's the best quality you can ever find in a human. That and people who have a good relationship with a bar of soap.
Anyway, me and New Jersey spent a good half-hour one day talking about our individual levels of OCD-like behavior. I am most interested in other people's quirks. People who seem quirk-free scare me to no end! They are the sort of people who email you asking for a detailed explanation of HOW and WHY you took a picture of an embarrassing ad on a TV if it was so embarrassing? They are the sort of people who need an in-depth analysis and fact-finding exploratory mission of a dorky elevator story.
[So, one day I was in an elevator. An embarrassing ad come on the TV screen. Everyone in the elevator acted like it wasn't there. I thought it was funny. I kept it to myself. We exited the elevator. Two -- or perhaps three -- days later I was in the elevator alone and the same ad came on the TV, and I took a picture. Of the TV. Using my cellphone which is why it has weird lines on it. I happened to have my cellphone open, I recognized the ad and I felt quite triumphant to have snapped the image but the mechanics of the picture didn't seem the least bit interesting or funny to me. I really only like telling funny stories, not logistical ones. Unless the logistics themselves are the funny part. Which in this story they are not.]
I think I just put my ownself to sleep typing that.
I've never been one much interested in in-depth factfinding. I love to make up facts! I make up facts all the time, usually about mileage, espionage and advertising. I think this is a very Southern quality, one which I am very happy to have in my genetic makeup. I could lose the inherent disposition toward fried foods, mind you, but I am glad I have a storytelling gene.
My dad is an excellent storyteller, and so is My Uncle Truman. My Uncle Skipper used to tell us tall tales when we were kids and with such a straight face you half believed him, no matter how fantastic or unreal the story. I think I miss the days when people didn't all expect you to have footnotes and detailed explanations and wikipedia entries citing all your references. They just laughed at your funny stories.
So it's going to rain today in the City of Angels ... that is an allegedly true fact. The city may come to a complete grinding halt, that is a sad but true fact. And there may or may not be a funny story about it. Who knows! It's quirky out here! Which is exactly how I like it.
Posted by laurie at 8:46 AM
February 4, 2009
Reaching new lows in the elevator
The little TV monitors in the elevators create unusual opportunity for embarrassment and discomfort. My most favorite recent moment was finding myself in the elevator with the SVP of Compliance while a particularly loud and energetic erectile dysfunction ad blared on the TV monitor. We both stood there in silence and acted like it wasn't happening. Fun!
It was the pinnacle moment of elevator awkwardness until recently when I found myself alone with the SVP of Corporate Security, a very nice and very professional man who I like and we were chatting and then this ad came on the TV monitors:
AWKWARD.
Posted by laurie at 9:25 AM
February 2, 2009
Civic Duty and Wildlife
On Thursday and Friday of last week I had jury duty. Jury duty is the weirdest assortment of people all together in one room you can imagine. My favorites are the people who magically lose the ability to speak English for the duration of jury selection.
By the way, when I got back from my first day of Jury service on Thursday I already had my first Netflix movie waiting for me in the mail. So I have decided to reverse my earlier opinion and say I'm impressed. I realize that my Netflix issue stemmed entirely from my envy and deep jealousy of those people who have more relaxed schedules and can work free movie time into their days without having to forgo things like dinner or sleep. I'm just a little over-scheduled, which is my issue and not yours or the Netflix corporation's problem. And I know this. And it's one of those things I'm working on it, it's on a list somewhere I'm sure.
I haven't found time to watch the movie yet, but I will. By the way, the first movie I got is Shirley Valentine, I haven't seen it in ages and they don't carry it at my local Blockbuster and I've been wanting to watch it (is it a Freudian subtext that the movie is about escaping the drudgery of your own life?). So yay for Netflix. I think the next movie in my queue is a documentary about Hasidim.
I am a class-A nerd.
- - -
Thursday started out weird before I even arrived at the Van Nuys courthouse.
It was supposed to be a good morning, where I could sleep in because I didn't have to be in the jury waiting room until 8:30 a.m., and the commute from here to the courthouse is about an hour and twenty minutes less than the commute to my office. (There's something very wrong with that picture, I know.)
Anyway, I was planning on sleeping in until the decadent hour of 6:30 a.m. (!!!) and taking a leisurely shower and having a nice cup of coffee while the cats snuggled around and watched a tivo'd episode of The Daily Show with me on the sofa. Doesn't that sound like a good way to start a day?
Instead, around 5:30 a.m. I heard a crazyass animal wail and all the cats jumped awake and ran to the back window, and I grabbed my glasses and tried to peer into the darkness through the window and see WHAT THE HELL WAS TRANSPIRING IN MY BACK YARD.
I put on my Uggs and turned on the back patio lights and stood out on the back porch asking, "Who's there? What's happening?" as if something would answer. And it was so dark that I saw nothing but I could hear these crazy animal cries coming from the back yard. And rustling. Lots of rustling.
Now my back yard is vast and wild. It is at least four times the size of my actual house, and stretches off into inky darkness that the porch lights can't penetrate. And any number of wild animal things could be happening, none of them good. The first and worse case scenario involved coyotes, which may sound crazy here in Encino-adjacent but a few months back I was out for my morning walk very early (before sunrise) and I saw two coyotes running down my street. I lived in Topanga Canyon for many years and I know what a coyote looks like, it was no little dog or strangely skinny German Shepard. You see a coyote once and you know. But I figured they must have been displaced from all the wildfires, that was back in November when half the North Valley was on fire.
So my very worst fear was that some coyote was back there with something. And all the rustling and noises were coming from this scary area:
Very Mysterious Backyard Growing Thing
But in the dark it looks like this:
SPOOKY Mysterious Backyard Hiding Place
And then I remembered that we have possums, or opossums, some sort of possumlike animals living nearby, because sometimes I can see them on the patio eating the Meow Mix meant for the stray cat who lives in the neighborhood.
So maybe it was a possum back there, I thought, maybe it was a possum having babies. Then I wondered if suburban rodents make animal crying sounds while giving birth. Which I can not remember having ever wondered about before in my entire life because I am not a great outdoors kind of person! I do not want wildlife in my back yard! Yes, I spent part of my childhood growing up on a farm, but we had COWS for chrissakes, normal livestock, and DUCKS and horses. We didn't have coyotes and possums and whatever the hell was in my current big-city backyard!
It was not a good morning. I was beginning to rethink my eventual future life plan of resettling somewhere more pastoral, like a ranch in the Southeast or some mountain retreat in Colorado. If I can't handle the wildlife in Encino-adj., I'm not sure how I would do in the so-called "pastoral" wild yonder. Maybe my goal should be to find an apartment with no yard on the beach in San Diego.
So I kept trying to shine a flashlight into the impenetrable murkiness of doom. I wondered if I should call someone. I wondered if I should make coffee.
Finally the sun started to come up and the sky lightened and as the backyard became more visible, I grabbed a big metal rake from the garage and crept around the other side of the yard to find out what was in the shrubbery. I walked as far away as possible while maintaining visual contact with the moving underbrush. That is when I saw a large -- REALLY LARGE -- gray furry backside.
"Oh my God we have wild boar in Encino," I said to the shrubbery.
(Obviously I am really great in the outdoors.)
And right then the furry best turned and looked right at me. And it was the world's most gigantic RACCOON. It had the perfect black eye mask, and it must have weighed a good forty pounds. I mean this guy hasn't been missing any meals. And just then something else rustled and for a split second I was afraid raccoons were maybe carnivorous and this would be something VERY BAD but instead out popped another black masked face, this one smaller and decidedly underneath the big guy.
Which is when I exclaimed out loud with complete shock, "OH MY GOD THERE IS RACCOON PORN HAPPENING IN MY BACKYARD."
So all that noise had been because some Rocky Raccoon brought his ladyfriend back for a night of romance and animal love. IN MY BACKYARD. In Encino-Adjacent!!
- - -
On Saturday when the gardeners came, I showed them the scene of the, uh, animal planet documentary, and asked them if they could start removing some of the crazyass overgrown ivy and perhaps cut back the amount of habitat in the backyard. I love animals, truly I do, but I can't live in the house that is makeout point for all the wildlife in the neighborhood.
I realize I live in the Valley and backyard aerobics is a billion-dollar industry, but I don't even have a permit. And the lighting is really bad.
Weird, weird, weird weird weird.
Posted by laurie at 8:24 AM
January 14, 2009
Three-hour tour
The bus ride into work today was completely fascinating. The 101 was backed up like nobody's business and so the bus driver got off the freeway somewhere around Sunset and within about 15 minutes it became clear to me that she was perhaps a little unsure of where exactly we were headed.
After passing the same furniture store on Western about three times, it was clear to everyone that the bus driver was really lost. I got to see all sorts of Los Angeles I'm not familiar with, such as beautiful historic Filipinotown. Did you know we had a historic Filipinotown? And that it is spelled that way on the sign, with an F? No? Neither did I! What a great thing to learn about my city! Although perhaps not at 7:30 a.m. while my boss and office and job reside in central downtown.
The really fascinating thing about the bus ride was how different people responded to the unscheduled sightseeing tour. Some people were just listening to their ipods and looking out the windows at parts of Los Angeles we don't often visit (I was in that category, along with four or five others.) One guy who was working frantically on his laptop seemed actually relieved and hunkered down with what appeared to be a pie chart.
But some people got kind of fearful and lost, you know the "Where are we going? Why is this happening? Where are we going?" folks. A few of them needed to talk it out with each other, come up with possible scenarios, try to guestimate where we were.
And some folks were downright nasty. Rude, belligerent, angry. You could tell when it started just with their body language and posture. I wasn't really freaked out by the three-hour-tour, the way I saw it at least the bus wasn't on fire and I figured as long as we were still in Southern California we were fine. If we started seeing signs for Bakersfield or Yuma, I would probably make a phone call. But those anxious angry people started making me a little anxious. It's funny how one dark cloud of a human can turn the mood in a room (or a bus.) Two women in particular just had a field day on the poor bus driver, who was already anxious and worried about being lost herself. The weirdest part was how one of the angry ladies seemed to just blow up with rage like she was feasting on it. I've been taking this bus for a long time and have seen her do that kind of thing before -- once about the parking and once about some other bus malfunction.
It's as if her default setting goes to HOT RAGE in an instant. She's probably in her early 60s, this lady, and I don't know anything about her other than I just avoid her whenever possible. But today I had plenty of time to see her in action. It made me feel kind of bad for her, because it sure sucks when your life is so tight that any detour sends you into rage -- Lord, I have been there -- and it made me glad that somehow I have managed to tone down the rage in my own life. I saw her and saw myself in her, I used to get so angry at just the smallest thing! I remember once about six or seven years ago practically instigating a riot over a parking spot at the Burbank cineplex. I'm not proud of that, I think back on it with some shame, but at least I managed to somehow someway deflate the rage out of my life so that these days it's no longer my default go-to emotion. Sometimes I still get angry but it's nowhere near the old intensity. It's like I'm not even the same person. Usually I don't even get really mad, just frustrated, and it passes so much faster.
Rage ages you. You can see it in this lady's face, in her whole demeanor. I tried to think back on the period in my life when I was angry all the time and pinpoint what caused it (listen, we had a LOT of time on the bus this morning for navel-gazing, ok?) and all I could figure out was that I was angry because my life felt out of control and that's how I reacted to my own chaos. I've gotten a lot of the crap out of my life and so maybe I'm just no longer so tightly wound up, always ready to break apart.
It feels so much better to be one of the people looking out the window and discovering Historic Filipinotown than to be one of the ragers, boiling up with anger at the slightest thing, yelling at the driver, making angry phone calls you want everyone on the bus to hear so we can all bear witness to your outrage.
And of course we made it to downtown and everyone lived and we were a little late, a lot late, but the world kept spinning on its axis. Just another day in Los Angeles.
Posted by laurie at 9:26 AM
January 9, 2009
Thom Filicia, I love you. Earthquakes, not so much.
I want to marry Thom Filicia. He's the host of Dress My Nest, a TV show where he saves the day all superhero-like with his powers of color and lamp selection and pillows. He's so CUTE. And FUNNY. And as Faith and Charlie and Jane and Shannon and everyone else on the planet made a BIG FREAKING DEAL of telling me, he is also not likely to marry me, a ladyfriend. But I think they are wrong and I love him and want him to dress my nest.
What I do not love so much is the earthquakes. Last night I was splayed out on the sofa with a Frankie on my leg and a Soba on my feet and I felt this little rumble, like it could have been a big truck driving on my street. That kind of rumble. Only not so much.
I looked at my cats who are animals and according to urban legend are supposed to be the delicate and sensitive antennae of NATURE and there they were, asleep, Bob snoring lightly on the cat toy by the TV and the other two warming themselves upon my personal heating furnace (Frankie stretched out along my thigh and Soba curled up on top of my feet) all totally unaware. TOTALLY UNAWARE WE WERE EXPERIENCING THE EARTH SHAKING.
It felt like the world went drunk all at once, and I watched the wine in my wineglass start to move slowly from one side to the other. On the other side of the living room the big mirror on the wall was undulating. This was no heavy truck passing by for two minutes!! We were having an earthquake. I believed it to be official (later proved right -- it was a 5.0 south of San Bernardino, later downgraded to a 4.5, but we felt it all the way up here in the Valley.) The cats, however, were totally unimpressed and were in fact completely irritated when I disturbed their sleep and got off the couch and looked for a doorway. And a paper towel for the wine sloshing.
Poor things. I am so disruptive to their sleep cycle.
So we had an earthquake, AGAIN, and I am well and very tired of them and unless they plan on breaking my old big square TV so I can buy a new fine flat screen thing I wish they wouldn't even bother. I even set my old hugeass square TV on a rolling cart for more shake, rattle and roll when the "Big One" hits, but I am still firmly ensconced in non-HD territory over here. Why can't I be like normal people and upgrade? Why am I so insistent on waiting until that TV dies? People! It could live 27 more years!
Also all that stuff about animals having a sixth sense and knowing when earthquakes are coming may be applicable for YOUR animals, but for mine it is just total hogwash. You have never seen three more relaxed and overfed felines in your life. They snored and dreamed of Greenies as the earthquake rolled ever onward. We could have been thrown to the equator and they would have just been irritated for being jolted out of beauty sleep.
I bet Thom Filicia could have sensed it coming. I bet he could recommend an earthquake-proof design and a flat-screen TV. I BET HE COULD MAKE EARTHQUAKE PILLOWS.
I am just saying is all. Also, I need a vacation. Work is hard and stuff at home is undulating. Really people. Send wine.
Posted by laurie at 8:53 AM
December 17, 2008
I saw you (and him) walking in the rain...
That title is from one of my favorite eighties songs, "The Rain" by Oran "Juice" Jones. My favorite line from the song is "You know my first impulse was to run up on you and do a Rambo!" but that didn't seem like a good title for a rainy day. Which it is! Again!
My view from the bus this morning:
Not sure if you can tell from my stellar photography, but we are at a standstill. By the time I got to work, two hours after leaving my house, I had reached the Zen Acceptance place. Not so much my coworkers ... poor New Jersey! I have no idea what state he will be in today. But on Monday it misted and sprinkled and he came into work late and exhausted already because of the weather. Oh, the mist of traffic doom!
"I don't get it," he said. "It wasn't even raining! It was barely misting!"
And he had that look -- you know, the LOOK. It's that What the hell have I gotten myself into moving to a city where mist creates gridlock and yet earthquakes that shake the whole office building are no big deal? look.
When I first moved here I was just as innocent and confused by these things but in time you learn that there are other places and then there is Los Angeles. And one day you're no longer wandering around dismayed by rain-based traffic apocalypse, you're more concerned about whether or not SAG will strike and if there will be valet at Whole Foods because you need some organic wine and you don't want to get your Uggs wet.
Here's another reason why I love this bizarre city:
One giant billboard on Van Nuys Blvd. referencing both the insidious L.A. traffic and the weirdness that is the paparazzi ... all in SPANISH.
But of course that picture was taken on Saturday when it was sunny and the world was still spinning on its axis, not its axles. Today we're all at a standstill. I hope my KMS anti-frizz mousse can hold up under the atmospheric pressure!
Actual rain! My Soggy City.
Posted by laurie at 9:27 AM
November 21, 2008
No no... thank YOU, Officer.
Yesterday I got a ticket. My very first ever actual TICKET. Mind you I was once caught driving through Mississippi doing 67 in a 35 MPH zone and managed to get off with a warning -- so I am no angel -- but the ONE time I was not actually even VIOLATING THE LAW I got a ticket from an officer whose real name is obviously A. Jerkoffe. I think he was German or something, from the surname. BUT it IS legal to make a right on red unless posted and it wasn't posted, which I pointed out with great dramatic gesturing as I got out of my car and got my camera out to document. So then he changed the ticketing excuse ON THE FLY and made up some bullhockey thing about me not stopping for three full seconds at the red light which was a baldfaced lie, clearly it was quota day and the man wanted his toaster. So he wrote me a ticket as I watched my morning disintegrate as I of course missed the bus but ran to try to catch it anyway and pulled a muscle in my left leg and spent the rest of the day hobbling and also, mad. Really really mad.
And when you tell people about your (stupid and not even illegal-based!!) ticket you immediately discover who has been in Los Angles forever and who has either never visited this ridiculous city or who has not lived here for enough time to grow a scabby wall of malaise around their heart. Yet.
Those who are not Los Angelenos will say, "Are you going to fight it?" or "You should fight it! Tell the judge what he did and they'll dismiss it!" and you look at them with wide-eyed mystery. Because they are so innocent, and hopeful. Like Bambi in the first ten minutes of the movie. You wonder if you were yourself once that innocent, if you were once a person who believed in The System, too. Because it's sweet and naive and you really don't have the heart to explain to them that taking a day off work and sitting through eight hours of traffic court in Van Nuys is about as useful -- and pleasant -- as getting all the hairs plucked off your body one by one with scorching hot tweezers. And in the end of course I am not A) a celebrity or B) a cop or C) the son of a prominent Orange County Sheriff's official, so I would have to pay the ticket anyway. Useless. Painful.
Those who are Los Angelenos, though, listen to you complain endlessly about your stupid (not illegal!) ticket and then say: "Hey! I know a great guy who is still waiting on his SAG card and he's teaching comedy traffic school somewhere off Sunset right now, you want his number?"
Or they say, "Hey! You live in the Valley! I heard there was a new stripper aerobics traffic school in Sherman Oaks somewhere, you ought to try it, I hear it's great for your core! Way better than Pilates Traffic School!" And then they go on to tell you about the time they took traffic school and Sinbad was in their class and kept trying to be funnier than the (not-yet-SAG) stand-up teacher.
And a fair amount of my morning drive in to work (2 hours, ten minutes! Awesome! Thanks, Los Angeles!) was spend envisioning specific parts of Officer Krupke's anatomy falling off dramatically with great oozing pain and only later did I realize that I thought these mean, hateful, CRUEL thoughts with such vigor and enthusiasm that if his penis does indeed detach in leprosy fashion from his body it might be my fault. I knew it was wrong to think such things. I know only bad people have such vengeful, colorful evil fantasies. BUT rather than feeling bad about being such an agent of evil, I just felt AWESOME and hoped to give him syphilis with my mind. Which makes me a crappy human being, I know, and frankly I should feel worse about this. But it's so hard trying to be good all the time, and think good thoughts and wish everyone well especially when you live in a place where it's more likely to get a ticket for NOTHING AT ALL than to have someone answer 911 as your house is being broken into. You get put on hold when you dial 911 here. For HOURS. And the hold music is really bad.
Maybe I 'm just not cut out to be a good person. Maybe I would rather drink 9/10 of a bottle of wine and make catty remarks about fashion with my friends than think happy, healing thoughts about stupid traffic cops. Maybe I am going straight to hell. One can only assume I am on a one-way street with a direct diamond lane to Hades, no right turns on red needed.
Right after I complete stripper aerobics traffic school, of course.
Posted by laurie at 9:13 AM
November 19, 2008
Who are you, who who?
A long procession of black SUVs and towncars lined up in front of this building across the street from where I work. I noticed it as I was out waiting for the bus. There must have been ten of them in all, a veritable convoy of stealth, except not stealthy at all. I wondered who everyone was waiting for... there were a fair number of buff guys standing around in dark suits and dark glasses talking into their sleeves. Maybe it was James Bond, who knows.
Speaking of the Quantum of Solace, here is my knitting:
That photo has no composition, no artful arrangement, no order. Much like my life right now, where I was sick and got behind on everything and now I'm playing catch-up. I've made very little progress on anything, really, but isn't that life, anyway? Just when you think you're ahead something reminds you to stop and look at your knitting. I am sure that has to do with quantum entanglement (yarn!) and maybe living in the Now or something profound but really all I can think about is whether or not I should put up the Christmas tree this weekend and if you can lose weight by dreaming you exercised, because last night I was running from something in my dreams and surely that burned up a calorie or ten!
Can you believe it's just a week-and-a-day until Thanksgiving?
If only holidays were meant to be spend under a blanket watching Spencer Tracy movies and knitting and drinking warm tea spiked with calvados while the cat sleeps on your feet. Now that's living.
Posted by laurie at 9:51 AM
November 17, 2008
Welcome to Los Angeles, where smoke is the new yoga...
This morning I woke up and prayed for rain. A huge gushing downpour that would drench the fires and wash the ash away and clean the air because the sky is now so heavy and thick you can slice it and serve it with barbecue sauce and potato salad.
Anyway, it didn't rain. I still can't control the weather and it's very frustrating! On the other hand, I'm finally feeling human again after all the croaking, sniffling dramatic wheezing flair of the past week. The one downside to being that kind of sick is that you lose your sense of smell, which is also conversely the only upside of being that kind of sick -- you lose the sense of smell! When you take mass transportation in a big city, it's best not to have any olfactory sensation. Between the folks who have only a passing acquaintance with soap and those who bathe and steep in vats of horrible perfume, the sense of smell is by far the most offended while riding a bus or train.
I don't wear perfume because I think it's anti-social to show up on a small, crowded, enclosed bus or train and sit next to someone while your chemical scent is oozing into their airspace. A nice bath with soap and water ought to do the trick, leaving nothing but fresh, clean sensory-neutral inoffensiveness. Maybe I should make a pamphlet explaining to people the real perils of mass transit. I could include a Passengers' Bill of Right Actions such as:
1) Arrive at chosen form of mass transit smelling freshly washed. Soap and water essential.
2) Do not bring smelly food on transit or use hairspray while trapped inside bus or train with other humans (seriously -- people using aerosol hairspray. On the bus. IT HAS HAPPENED.)
3) Do not floss on mass transit.
4) Ditto shaving, tweezing or nose-picking.
5) Do not stare at women like they were juicy steaks and you are a starving dog.
6) Do not try to sit on a woman's lap or otherwise indulge in handsy pansy on mass transit. I will cut you.
7) Do not play annoying games on your cellphone with the music turned all the way up! If I have to listen to your muzak version of Super Mario music one more minute I will cut you.
8) Do not start yelling at the bus driver and calling him or her nasty names as said bus driver is responsible for our lives for the next 1 hour 45 minutes and if we crash I will cut you.
9) When feeling the urge to strangle other passengers, close eyes and think happy kitten-covered thoughts (this one may just be for me.)
10) If other people are obviously trying to reach a zen, calm acceptance of mass transit scenario by wearing their headphones and quietly amusing themselves with music and/or whatever, refrain from constantly trying to start up conversations whereby the laboriously remove headphones and try to act interested but really want to strangle you with the cord on their earbuds.
Wow! I feel so much better just typing this all out! Behold the cleansing power of a list!!! I didn't include anything about those people who bring rolly bags on the bus or train and can't seem to maneuver them thereby holding up all passengers but we can't expect radical change all at one time. I'd be happy with a Mass Transit Bathing Act (Addendum Article 21: Usage of soap, not excess perfume) and we'll go from there.
Anyway, none of it matters today since we all smell like kebabs straight off the grill (Love you Los Angeles, stop being on fire now!) but this too shall pass.
Posted by laurie at 9:24 AM
November 5, 2008
You knew it had to happen.... a change had to come!
That's right! You knew this day would come, you knew a change was in the air, yesterday was a momentous day of change...
... it rained on New Jersey's commute!
Our very adorable new coworker from back east hasn't really paid any attention to us crazypants people talking about traffic. Until he came in after a morning on the wet freeways and declared:
"Oh my God this city is &*%$#%."
"What happened?" I asked.
"It just started to sprinkle, I mean it wasn't even real rain! And all the cars just stopped! Or started running into each other!" he said.
"Oh yeah," I said. "Um, that kind of happens here."
"What is the problem with this place?" he asked.
"Well, New Jersey, there is actually a mathematical explanation for this entire phenomenon. Let me break it down for you:
Water spotting on your phat ride + the extra hair products you have to apply multiplied by the extra time it takes you to get to Starbucks + soymilk + latte ÷ the sum total of people who are on the Master Cleanse - pilates. There's a new math version that also factors in the square root of how many celebrity sightings you had last weekend at The Grove but I'm not into all that 'new' math stuff."
"You are insane and so is this city," he said.
"Yes, we belong together. It is my longest running monogamous relationship to date," I said. "I flirted shamelessly with Paris, but my cats don't speak French so I had to come home."
- - -
So there you have it, it rained, and New Jersey got to see his newly adopted city at its finest. You knew a change had to come eventually!
Posted by laurie at 8:41 AM
November 4, 2008
Ooooh, it looks like the fourth of July... and makes me want a hotdog real bad!*
(*Bonus votes if you know the movie this line is from!)
Well, election day is finally here and it's so exciting! I couldn't sleep so I got up at 4:30 a.m. and went for a RUN, and no one was even chasing me! That is insane! I only lasted 12 minutes then I had to walk fast.
There was a big long line at my polling place this morning:
You can't see it in the picture but the line stretches all the way around the building back into the parking lot! But it was worth waiting for.
My left boob totally voted:
The right one, not so much.
I know this election has dragged on for a bazillion years but in the end it was really exhilarating today to participate in the most historic election of our entire nation's existence. Not that many years ago women and African-Americans were not allowed the right to vote. And today I got to cast my own vote for President of the United States of America and one ticket has an African-American candidate and one ticket has a female candidate and that is an amazing and progressive thing.
I'm proud of us! Even though the election got nasty and there was so much negativity, at the end of it all I got to choose and cast my vote on this historic day. There was all this camaraderie at the polls, like people felt they were making a difference. No matter what your views, I'm glad you voted. We're really lucky and I started feeling all patriotic and sappy and then I got a free sticker for my boob. Yay!
Tonight is the Election Party and/or Election Wake at Faith & Michael's house, depending on how it all plays out. The cats are not attending because they are still mad about the new "Healthy weight & aging" food I bought for them:
When they get the right to vote, I'm in trouble!
Posted by laurie at 10:37 AM
November 3, 2008
It's a breath of fresh air -- and we're not used to that around here!
On Saturday it rained -- real rain, not just the little misting fog we sometimes call rain here in Noweatherland. It rained! And on Sunday morning the sun came out and the sky was so blue, the air was washed clean and the plants, the cars, the houses, the trees, even the roads looked clean and fresh. It's like Mother Nature came to Los Angeles and discovered it had a bad case of B.O. and then ... behold the healing powers of a bath! There is nothing more beautiful than Los Angeles after a rain, when air is colorless and the whole city feels shiny and new.
Then there is the Monday after Daylight Savings set-the-clock-back. This is the Monday that takes five hours to get home because the entire happy, shiny city has forgotten how to drive in the dark. Seriously.
Fellow Coworker and I have been trying to alert the new guy at work to this phenomenon but he doesn't believe us, because what major metropolitan area could be dumb enough to forget how to drive in the dark? And he has a point there. But perhaps it is the same metropolitan region that breaks into live coverage of the meltdown on Wall Street to let us, the whole city, know that Britney Spears had her traffic violation dismissed. THANK GOD.
And now there is only one more day left until the election!! I don't think I can wait, the suspense is killing me over here. Do you think Al Gore will win? We are all voting for my boyfriend Al Gore, aren't we? Do you also think one day the Secret Service will send people to my house to see if I am a stalker and a real threat to the only Vice President to ever win a Grammy? The evidence looks bad on the surface -- quiet, keeps to herself, has a herd of felines. But then again our suspect uses paper plates in flagrant defiance of her alleged Al-love and knows more about her patent leather spectator pump footprint that her carbon one. And she is kind of a slatternly stalker, what with the whole "I can't be bothered to drive south of the 10 freeway" thing and her deep distaste of placards.
And of course she carries duct tape in her Jeep. Except there is evidence of the entire Jeep being held together by duct tape and hope, so perhaps she is just a harmless fan. TIME WILL TELL!
I am just kidding about Al Gore. I am voting for Bob for President. Except have you seen the attack ads out against Bob T. cat? They are vicious I tell you what!
Posted by laurie at 8:17 AM
October 24, 2008
Hotober
October is always the hottest month in Los Angeles, made even hotter by the fact that it is OCTOBER and one feels a deep primal need to be bundling up in a sweater, smelling crisp autumn air and drinking something warm laced with Calvados.
But every year it's just plain HOT in October and stuff catches on fire and people complain, which burns calories.
Here's a guy who I saw interviewed on the news last night. I believe his title says it all:
That's right. He's TIRED of it!
I looked around my house to see who I could interview. Here's what I found:
Also, totally disregard the mountain of cat toys behind him there in the background. Obviously we are single-handedly keeping the cat toy sector of the economy afloat here at Chez Catsalot.
- - -
Don't forget there's still time to put your name in the hat to win your own super soft Misti Alpaca yarn from SuperCrafty.com or some gorgeous Harmony Wood knitting needles from KnitPicks.com! You can enter to win right here >>
Posted by laurie at 9:14 AM
October 16, 2008
Thursday, not my walkday
Usually I go for a walk (walk/pathetic-jog, but more on that another day) at the unseemly hour of FIVE A.M.!!! and it's mostly quiet on the little streets of my neighborhood. There's still a surprising volume of traffic on the main road but whatevs. It's Los Angeles.
Thursday is also trash day. Each house gets three bins from the city, these big plastic containers with hinged lids and two wheels that you fill up dutifully and roll to the street each Wednesday night in anticipation for trash day. There's a black can for trashy trash, a green can for yard clippings and a blue can for recycling.
Every Thursday (and sometimes late Wednesday night) a few people come into the neighborhood with shopping cats and roam from blue can to blue can taking out all the recycling before the trash trucks come. I guess they take the aluminum cans and maybe glass bottles and take them to recycling centers for cash. I know they leave behind the cat food cans (heh) and the cardboard. By the way, this activity is illegal but I've never once seen anybody do anything about it in the 14 years I have lived here in crazytown. My neighbor next door won't put his cans out until right before the truck arrives but he's retired and stays home all day and some of us are already long gone when the truck comes, so there are lots of cans out just waiting.
Usually I walk so early in the morning that the wandering trash pillagers aren't out yet. The sun isn't out yet. It's pitch dark at 5 a.m. and most of the world is asleep, aside from a few commuters and the faithful handful of morning exercisers. But since the economy has taken a turn for the dramatic, I've noticed Thursday mornings have gotten crowded real quicklike. Last Thursday I was out walking my normal route and there must have been ten times the amount of strange men roaming from can to can. But this time they weren't just going through the recycling blue containers, they were opening up trash bags, rooting around, upending the contents and sifting through even closed bags in the black cans.
I'm my own worst critic and don't need people telling me to be more compassionate, I'm usually banging myself upside my own head whenever I have a twinge of something not sweet and kind like the Nice Southern Girl™ I was raised to be. But truth be told it was dark and kind of cold and there were strange men digging through trash cans in my neighborhood. Lots of them. And instead of empathy I felt the slightest twinge of fear.
There were also a few trucks driving up and down the streets, not trucks that live in my neighborhood (walk every single day in your neighborhood for a few years and you get a sense of what belongs and what doesn't) and these trucks were collecting loads from the scavengers. One truck stopped outside a construction dumpster and someone got out, started picking through it. And there was this one car, a melange of car parts of different colors put together to make a single vehicle with a loud muffler. It was driving slowly up and down the streets, and inside were two young men maybe 19 or 20 years old.
Now we have our share of hooligans in my neck of the woods, but they aren't usually out driving up and down with their hazard lights on at five a.m. I usually see the same faces each day -- fellow walkers and joggers and dog-walkers -- and nod or wave or say good morning. It's really comforting, seeing the same couple jog past me each day with their border collie, the friendly older guy with his three golden retrievers, the two women who always pass me right at the corner crosswalk each day.
But these two guys in the car, I had never seen them before. I guessed they were waiting for one of the fellows digging through the cans since they had a few bulging trash bags in the back seat. Then they passed me and saw me, one turned his head, and before long they made a U-turn and came back and pulled up slowly alongside me and stared. Apparently they are from a land were women never walk so the sight of me, a woman walking, must have ENTHRALLED them so much that they menacingly drove alongside me until I turned and said in my loud outside voice, DO YOU HAVE A MUTHAEFFING PROMBLEMMO WEIRDOS and waved my pepper spray. Then they sped off.
I was shaking. Then I sped off myself, cutting past two streets to go home and lock myself safely indoors. I decided that perhaps Thursdays are best spent indoors on the treadmill from now on.
- - -
Security expert Gavin De Becker wrote a book called The Gift of Fear
He says that we are the only ones in the animal kingdom who will get into a steel enclosed soundproof box with a man who makes us feel unsafe -- all because we think we should give him the benefit of the doubt, and we don't want to be rude.
- - -
I thought I'd lived in this city for so long that I'd learned to sharpen my instincts. I don't often find myself in troubling situations, I'm just not on that wavelength I guess. When someone is doing something untoward, even if it's small, I try to listen to my instincts and get the hell out of dodge.
Sometimes, though, like last Thursday I don't listen, instead I talked myself out of it. On that day I immediately noticed there were more men on the streets and it was very early and this was not normal and it felt... a little unsafe. But I thought to myself, "Laurie, if you were telling this story to someone they'd come up with all the very logical reasons these men are digging through the trash. Other people wouldn't be immediately fearful, you jerk. They'd be kinder, more allowing. Other people would be more understanding, compassionate. After all, these guys are just people like you, people who are trying to feed their families. They're probably good people simply trying to make a few bucks. Don't be alarmist, don't be rude..." and on and on and on.
It's true that these folks are probably just decent folks trying to pull together a few dollars. It's also true that it felt weird. Something was off. I kept on walking though, right up until I got threatened, and I was threatened, having two strange young men pulling up in a cobbled-together car at 5 a.m. staring at you like you're a piece of meat and they're rabid dogs is never, ever a good thing.
It was a sharp and immediate reminder. Listen, listen to your instincts. I'd rather be impolite or politically incorrect and safe than sweet and nice and in harm's way. And whose feelings am I hurting if I decide to walk the treadmill one morning a week? Isn't that the most insane part?
So this morning I suited up and got my sneakers on and got ready to walk indoors. There's only one small impediment to my treadmill workout, but surely with some well-placed catnip -- in another room -- we can all learn to share on Thursdays ...
Posted by laurie at 9:10 AM
September 29, 2008
Looks like a Monday
View from my office window. Looks cold, but it's hot and muggy!
Definitely not scarf weather.
Posted by laurie at 12:34 PM
September 10, 2008
On the road again
Yeah, where IS Randsburg?
I concur, Your Honor!
... and if this cat toy could drive:
Posted by laurie at 9:29 AM
September 4, 2008
I cannot imagine why more people don't want to live here
Yesterday New Jersey asked me to define "sig alert." I told him it means there's bad traffic that's worse than usual, like a whole freeway is shut down or something large is on fire. (There is a technical explanation but that is what le google is for.) I also gave him what I thought was a very valid tip: If you are heading toward the freeway and you see more than one traffic helicopter circling around near your on-ramp, MAKE ALTERNATE PLANS.
(begin scene, office location, very beige)
"Traffic is ruining my life," says New Jersey.
"Well," I told him, "this means you are becoming acclimated. It's like base camp at Everest. First you have to get here, which is a trek in itself. Then you test your stamina with the poor circulation of the major freeways during good weather in the summer when school's out. Then as you become more acclimatized, you're able to go farther and longer into the city without dying. Then with the help of a guide and a sherpa you may make it through the holiday driving season..."
"Which begins with Halloween," said my other co-worker. "Halloween is INSANE."
"Oh!" I said, "And don't forget about Daylight Savings Time changing."
"What does Daylight Savings Time have to do with traffic?" asked New Jersey.
"During the long days of summer and fall, people magically forget how to drive in the dark," I told him. "The first Monday after daylight savings time ends is like a traffic parody."
"Now you're just trying to scare me," said New Jersey. "People forget how to drive in the dark? YEAH RIGHT. Next you're going to tell me you have a terrible winter and no one can drive because of all the horrible poor little Los Angeles weather ... it never even rains out here!"
"Uh, I think I hear my phone ringing!"
(end scene)
Posted by laurie at 8:33 AM
July 30, 2008
Say what...?
Posted by laurie at 9:13 AM
July 29, 2008
Shaken, stirred and undeterred
We're fine. The phones and elevators aren't working and we told the new guy from New Jersey it was part of his hazing. So it was about 11:45ish, and then it hit, one VERY LARGE THUD. They say it's a 4.8 or close to it. Then came the rolling.
Skyscrapers in downtown are meant to roll, it's part of the charm and excitement of working high up in a glass office in downtown. OH YEAH. Glass office!
Ya'll have never seen a chubby girl run so fast. I was on my feet and out the door of my office in under a second. I stood there in the doorway while my co-workers and I just stared. Then I said, "Um, how ya'll doing?" And we all laughed that shaky laugh you get when the building is still rolling.
And we kept laughing the nervous "How long with this last?" laugh as everyone entered the corridor, everyone was coming out of their hallyways. "Hi Tom!" "Hi Carrie!" "Hello! I knew it was earthquake weather!"
The building stopped rolling just as the intercom buzzed to life. The completely anxiety-stricken and panicked voice of the security guard came over the airwaves to reassure us:
"This is building security.
We have just experienced an earthquake!!!!
Please be prepared for aftershocks!!!!
Move away from windows!
Do not use elevators!!
Should aftershocks occur (he pronounced this word "OOOOH-coor")
Crouch down beneath something secure and cover your arms with your head."
We broke out into nervous, giddy laughter. It was TOO MUCH.
Then, he concluded with panic, "Please do not panic!!!!"
Oh Los Angeles. Just another reason to crouch beneath something sturdy and cover your arms with your head.
Posted by laurie at 12:40 PM
July 25, 2008
Just another day on the bus
There are a lot of new people taking the bus and they're very needy, holding open the doors while asking the bus driver convoluted questions, "Do I get off here and transfer to get to X or do I go to there and ride another bus to get to X or will I get lost?" As if the bus driver can answer them and let them know if they'll get lost. I personally can get lost on the way to the breakroom at work, so "lost" is a relative state of being, doubtful a random bus driver can analyze it for every strange passenger. I'm impressed with the drivers, though, they're far more patient than the seasoned riders who are pushing these needy newbies out of the way in a huff and rolling their eyes and making comments.
I understand why new folks are so confused, after all the Los Angeles mass transit system is mysterious and convoluted doesn't run on any meaningful sort of timetable (a bus that is meant to arrive at 5:40 will show up some time between 5:25 and 6:15) and none of the different systems work together, so a Metro Bus and a Commuter Bus and a Santa Monica Bus may all take you parts of your route but it's a piece of film noir detective work to figure out how those routes work together. Add in rail lines and the subway (both of which are separate systems that don't work together) and you have quite a thriller getting to work each day.
And riding the mass transit offered in this city has never been more grim or challenging. More people on the buses and trains doesn't mean there's more seats to sit in or parking spaces at the stations. The parking situation at my usual park 'n ride lot has deteriorated so that people are now getting in fights and yelling and threatening to call the city/the police/somebody they know in the Mayor's office, etc. It's kind of funny in a sad, pathetic way. I've reached the Zen acceptance place where there's no use complaining about it ... it is what it is. I drive more and more these days since there's nowhere to park at the transit lot. Fridays are good though, there's usually some parking on Fridays.
Friday before last I was on the bus next to my friend Karen -- well, we're not really friends exactly but we've been riding the same route together forever and she is the only person I ever talk to on the bus. She's HEELARIOUS too, which helps. I was telling her I think I need to get an unemployed boyfriend -- sure I would have to pay for dinners and movies and stuff but he could drive me to the bus stop and pick me up every day and that would probably work out better for me fiscally in the long run. And we were laughing and then we heard the girls in the seat across from us complaining about how the bus didn't have good air conditioning and why were we sitting here just waiting and they didn't understand why the bus couldn't be properly air conditioned if we were going to just be sitting here waiting (all those things long-term commuters have come to accept as part of the "charm" of mass transit in Los Angeles) and so Karen turns to me and says, "Yeah, they're complaining about the air conditioning ... just wait until the bus catches fire!"
"I know!" I said, "or when it breaks down in the middle of the 5 and there's no replacement bus for two hours and it's seven hundred degrees!"
"Yeah," said Karen, "or remember that time we broke down going up the hill on the 101 and the bus actually started rolling backwards down the hill!!"
And we were amusing ourselves this way for a good five minutes when we realized the two new girls had stopped talking and had looks of sheer horror on their faces.
"Did you say the bus caught on fire...?" asked one of the girls.
"Oh yeah," said Karen. "It happens a couple of times a year. But it makes the air conditioning problem seem a lot less urgent."
And we laughed. Then we got back to talking about the cost ratio benefit of me getting an unemployed boyfriend. I still need to work on the ROI on the scenario but it's worth contemplating.
- - -
Have a great weekend!
Posted by laurie at 8:42 AM
June 30, 2008
Bumper knitter
Me too!
And don't forget to enter to win the sweepstakes if you haven't already put your name in for the drawing. Sweepstakes ends on Friday at 9 p.m. Pacific. Good luck!
Posted by laurie at 9:38 AM
June 24, 2008
If only the font were a little bit BIGGER....
Indeed.
Saw that truck on Sunday in the Sepulveda Pass on the 405 when Faith was driving my mitten-challenged self to A Mano Yarn Shop. That font was big enough to be visible from space! It was not satisfying enough for me to only snap a picture, though. I needed to see the face of the man who was driving a big ol' pickup truck with "HONK FOR BADONKADONK" emblazoned across the window.
Closer...
Closer... and HONK!!!!!! We honked and he flashed us the peace sign. Apparently "badonkadonk" means "peace out" in his lingo.
But alas, the open road calls ... he's off to spread his message of peace, love and badonkadonkdom to the world!
Posted by laurie at 8:35 AM
June 9, 2008
Monday
Yesterday I decided to aggressively de-clutter, clean and re-arrange my home office and in the process managed to break my internet connection. I rock! Winners for the big pile o' books sweepstakes will be alerted today and announced tomorrow. Thank you to everyone who entered!
- - -
Gas prices in Los Angeles -- and all across the country, I assume -- are insane. I read a story yesterday in the paper about the alleged demand for oil, which many analysts say has not increased at all and doesn't merit the price increases.
I don't know about the whole shady underworld of buying oil futures and all that, I just have a deep-seated feeling that someone is sticking it to us.
Other people in Los Angeles that I've overheard talking about gas prices (it's a big topic on conversation, at work, on the bus, standing in line at the store) seem to be using the best method they have of coping, the "well it could be worse" theory. I am not a fan of this theory -- it only makes you feel rottener for feeling bad in the first place. The best example of the "it could be worse theory" is when you're going through a bad breakup, or a divorce, or maybe your beloved pet just died and you are mourning this loss and your heart is broken and some well-meaning individual tells you something like, "Well, just think! It could be worse. Did you see that story on the news about the poor girls whose family did so-and-so and it was So! Awful!" or "Well, it could be worse, did you see those poor people in the earthquake/tsunami/housefire who all died/were trampled/had their identities stolen? At least you have your health!"
Unless of course you do not have your health, then they find a story of someone who has less health than you do.
These folks mean well, bless their hearts. Sometimes people don't know what to say so they default to the "well, it could be worse..." chitchat. But it is so not helpful. There is always someone who has it worse -- it doesn't make you feel better to be reminded of that when you feel crummy. It just makes you feel worse for feeling bad in the first place. And now you have to worry about the poor so-and-so girl!
And most insidious of all, the "well it could be worse" theory tries to invalidate your own pain or fear or concern.
And mine is just concern, concern about something that seems suspicious and feels like one day we'll be reading an expose in the Times about the people who threw lavish chocolate-covered-stripper parties with their record-breaking oil profits. And with the energy prices rising everything is increasing in cost -- milk, bread, bananas, toilet paper, everything has taken a price jump, and I try not to even talk about it because A) there's nothing I can do and B) it often elicits this response:
"Yeah, I know. But I guess in Europe they've been paying for gas like this for a long time."
There's nothing you can say to this version of "well, it could be worse..." because YES, it is certainly true that in Europe gas costs more. But it's like comparing apples and giraffes! And it still doesn't solve anything.
[Edited to add: I had a whole paragraph here on why I thought that comparing Europe to the Unites States was an unproductive way of talking about our own issues. However, I clearly didn't express my feelings very well since I got about a bazillion nasty emails from people in the UK, Germany and Australia assuring me I was a total asshole. Awesome!
What I was trying to express is that the place I live is experiencing some challenges and while I know other places have challenges, too, it's not working for me to say "Oh well, we should never worry or wonder if there is a way to make things better, or change our habits, or change anything at all, because people elsewhere have it worse off." This is just my personal online diary. Sometimes I have these crazyass things called "emotions." They mix in with the thoughts and come out jumbled.
Also, those "oh it could be worse" conversations that have never made sense to me. [End of edited portion.]
Because how are we supposed to fix and enrich our own nation when we think like that? Are we supposed to move to Europe? Is that the answer? Are we just supposed to be totally okay with something and never strive to fix anything broken because someone somewhere else pays more for gas?
And why does everyone want to assume it's OK as long as someone has it worse? Do we want all humans to be equally miserable? I know water seeks its own level and everything, but really now, that is just crazytalk. Instead of saying, "Well, it could be worse, people someplace else that I don't know and don't interact with in my normal day-to-day life have it worse in this one area, so... OH WELL! Guess that's just life!" what about saying, "This is nuts! We need to fix it!"
What about wanting to make change so that life gets better and water seeks a higher level?
I have no solutions, no answers here ... just the feeling that things have to change and change soon. Do you feel the anxiety and stress that seems to have permeated our whole nation? Americans are good people at heart, hard-working, generous, capable. I don't like the feeling that someone is sticking it to us. I hope that in the end this drives us to change the world in a good way and develop all kinds of amazing technology that doesn't require a stop at the gas station. Maybe in the end it will be a positive thing, a revolution, and instead of always saying, "Well, it could be worse!" the first thing people will think of is, "Well, let's make it better!"
Posted by laurie at 9:39 AM
June 5, 2008
And I didn't even tell him what happens when it rains....
We have a new guy in our division who's from back east. He's been in Los Angeles for a few months but only recently joined our team.
Last week a group of us were in a conference room and we were making chitchat before the meeting started, just visiting.
"So how do you like Los Angeles?" I asked
"Oh, it's great," said New Guy. "Except oh man, the traffic is insane."
And we all LAUGHED AT HIM. No one in the room commiserated or felt sorry for him or showed compassion or anything other than sheer unbridled vindication.
"I'm from the east coast," he said. "Jersey, New York, I thought I knew what bad traffic was and everyone tried to tell me ahead of time but I figured it couldn't be any worse than back east."
We nodded in unison. Everyone everywhere else thinks they have bad traffic. Your Boston, your Chicago, your Washington D.C., they all think they have traffic. I understand because it's impossible to envision how simultaneously spread out and congested this city is. Also they have never tried to get from Santa Monica to the valley on a Friday.
Then these folks who think they are desensitized to car-related insanity come to Los Angeles and try to get anywhere at anytime and realize, Oh! I did not know from traffic! Sometimes they flee. Sometimes they cry.
I don't often like giving advice, but I decided to share my one never-fail piece of wisdom to New Guy.
"If you ever go to a party in L.A., and you don't know anyone and don't know what to say, just ask people about their drive and you'll be the best conversationalist of the whole night," I told him.
"It's true," said Other Co-worker. "People will start telling you about their commute, what route they took, which route is best when and any shortcuts..."
And then of course we all started talking about our commutes.
I love this crazy city.
- - -
Don't forget to enter the big pile o' books giveaway!
Posted by laurie at 8:22 AM
May 16, 2008
Friday: heat, transit, ends with a proposition
The bus is now crowded with new faces, and these days getting a parking space at the park 'n ride lot is just a fantasy after 7 a.m.
Honestly, I never really thought that rising gas prices would have much change on people's driving habits here in Los Angeles but I guess I was wrong. I've been a power user of the Los Angeles transit system for six (loooong) years, and in all that time I've never noticed gas price fluctuations having an impact on the amount of riders (or for that matter, ticket prices haven't really affected volume much, either.) But now with gas at $4+/gallon everywhere, you can see the bus lines all around downtown are longer and more people are on the metro, too. So our already tenuous web of mass transit is really strained to capacity.
All that commuting would make people more relaxed in another city, one with better transit options, but this is Los Angeles. I suspect I am not the only one daydreaming to make the time pass.
- - -
Yesterday I was on the bus ride home (I drove in on Wednesday, not yesterday, though it seemed that way because I write at night when I get home and often forget to update the tense, the hour of posting and the date for the actual day of posting, which people love pointing out to me. For the record, I am not an editor.)
Anyway, yesterday afternoon on the bus ride home I was listening to my headphones as the bus trundled along the five north, happy the end of the day was near, and then .... I could smell it. You know the smell if you've lived here long enough, a California brushfire has a unique smell all its own and even when you can't see the smoke yet you can often smell it. I saw other people on the bus looking up from their books or newspapers or mp3 players and looking for the telltale smoke rising somewhere in the hills.
I slid my headphones down to my neck so I could hear the chatter. One of the girls across the aisle from me caught my eye.
"It's a brush fire near Griffith Park," she said. "And there's another one in the Sepulveda Basin, but the one we're near right now is the Griffith fire."
I looked at her in awe for a moment and the guy behind me asked what she'd said so I reported it to him and then turned back in my seat.
"How did you know that?" I asked the girl across from me.
"It's on the news sites right now," she said. And by way of explanation she held up her hand with her iPhone in it.
"Oh!" I said. "An iPhone, cool!"
And this is where a normal human would end the conversation. I of course did not stop there.
"It's just like that time in Independence Day where Jeff Goldblum saves the world with a mac ... you know? When he goes to the alien ship and embeds a virus with his trusty mac...?"
She looked at me like I had sprouted another head and turned polka dotted.
I am the alien, apparently.
- - -
It's going to be hot this weekend:
I love my Dapper Dallas Raines. Dallas, I'm free this weekend for margaritas poolside. Call me!
Have a good weekend!
Posted by laurie at 9:37 AM
May 15, 2008
Vacations I would enjoy
I had to drive into work because of forces not of my own making. I like to amuse myself while in traffic by daydreaming about vacation.
My very favorite thing to do (aside from rolling around naked in money, which I have not yet done but sincerely hope I am one day able to do on a regular basis) is daydream. I daydream a lot. I do it in my car, on the bus, before falling asleep at night, in the shower, and pretty much everytime I am not required to be present and focusing on a task at hand. I know we are supposed to live in the NOW and be PRESENT and all that stuff, but some things in my own life are not really divine and delightful and soul-enriching, such as dentist visits and traffic. Daydreaming is like a little vacation for the mind.
Perhaps I am more like Walter Mitty than I care to admit. On Saturday night a few weeks ago, Faith and I were at the bookstore/coffee shop and I was thinking about my Mittyesque moments so I asked Faith if she knew that Kafka used to work at an insurance agency. We were in the middle of talking about a trip to Palm Springs so I'm not sure the question made sense... to her.
"I am like Kafka," I said. "Except without the talent. And it's a bank not insurance. Tomato, tomahtoe. But I might still turn into a cockroach one day."
Surprisingly, making weird bug-related comments is not the strangest thing about me. That same night I brought my own little tiny tupperware container of heavy cream to the coffee shop because they only have whole or skim milk there and half-and-half but no heavy cream. And if I am paying two bucks for a lousy cup of coffee I want it to have the creamy goodness.
Faith just laughed good-naturedly at my Tupperware. She kindly ignored my Kafka cockroach soliloquy.
ANYWAY. Daydreaming about vacation is my favorite, I love to imagine vacations of the future and what I may be wearing in these vacations, which is always something fabulous and I am always thinner in my mind, and also probably taller. And I must have had laser hair removal or something in my daydreams because I'm never covering unsightly stubble with long pants in hot weather as I am known to do in real life.
My top five favorite daydream destinations:
1) Spain. I think the next trip I take will be to Spain because I have thoroughly enjoyed every past visit to Spain (I once spent three days in San Sebastian once, just remarking at how much one can eat and drink on vacation and just feel BETTER instead of worse.) I love the people and the language and the food and since I was never single at the time of past travel experiences to Spain, I never had the opportunity to make some amigos.
2) Croatia. In this fantasy not only am I the aforementioned "skinnier" and "taller" but I am also a delicious buttery tan all over and I drink cocktails with fruit floating on top. (On top of the cocktail, not me.) (Although on vacation I might just try that one day.)
3) Surfing the coast of Peru. In my fantasies, I am not just the skinny, taller, tanner version of me but also am practically out-Gidgeting Gidget with my rogue surfing skills. Hang ten, dude.
4) Greenland. I am probably still skinnier and taller and tanner but none of it is troublesome as I am covered up under layers of fabulous handknits.
5) Maui. There's an actual real possibility that this place will move from fantasy to reality but again in the daydream I am skinnier, taller, tanner and suddenly look good in floral prints. There is probably a greater possibility that I will indeed sprout and grow taller than the chance of me ever looking good in something floral. It clashes with my personality.
But Lord I love to daydream. Especially when someone stinky is too near on the bus and you're stuck in traffic and you do the math and realize that by the time you get home you will need to turn around and head back to work in just a few mere hours. It's also good to have a little daydream in your pocket for the long wait at the DMV. Or when you're in the dentist's chair. (Although what really helps when you in the dentist's chair comes with a prescription.) I've been to the dentist four times this year already. Not once have I had a prescription... but the daydreams help a lot.
The best thing about daydreaming vacation is that it's totally free and you can do it even while in the shower. How's that for multi-tasking?
I was in traffic and daydreaming this morning when I saw this:
You can't tell from the picture because I was shooting into the sun (and driving for hours into the sun which is REALLY AWESOME) but the truck in front of me has the tailgate down and inside the truck's bed are all sorts of goodies that are not tied down ... including one big ol' microwave oven. Untethered. On a truck with no tailgate to hold it in... ON THE FREEWAY.
Our freeways are a series of stops and very jagged stops, so I can't imagine that microwave made it to its intended destination, unless said destination was "roadkill." People wonder why the freeways of Southern California are always littered with sofas, ladders and houses. People maybe need therapy in this town.
I took the photo then expediently changed lanes. And got right back to daydreaming.
Posted by laurie at 9:10 AM
May 1, 2008
May Day
May 1st has many meanings. For one thing, it is my mom's birthday, and she is fabulous and I am a horrible child who waits until the last minute to send anything and everything, and thus her gift should be arriving in the mail... shortly.
But hello and Happy Birthday!
Also May 1st in Los Angeles is very exciting because people who apparently do not do such things as "develop secretary spread in stale office air" such as myself take to the streets in the middle of the day and swarm the city with chaos and then people throw coke bottles at the police and then the police shoots them. I have never really understood the whole May Day Melee thing but then again I do not understand quantum physics and still I say things like "entanglement" on a regular basis.
People will hold placards and some will have bullhorns and there will be more sirens than usual and downtown will be a mess. Or not! Because you never know, people might just go get a plate of hotwings and a pitcher and call it a day. The buses may or may not run, the city may or may not perish, and either way... it's still May.
How on earth did we get to May so soon?
Posted by laurie at 8:36 AM
April 29, 2008
Shake, rattle and roll
The midwest is normally safe from such left-coast craziness as houses being left on the freeway, people descending into hysteria at the sight of mist and of course, The Governator. But last week I got emails from several folks in the midwest who had experienced a crazyass midwestern EARTHQUAKE and wanted to know what us seasoned Californians do when the very ground beneath us is rollercoastering.
I'm not sure I'm a seasoned Californian, I've only been here... wait... THIRTEEN YEARS? It's true, then. By Los Angeles standards I'm practically a native, aside from the funny accent. I actually remember when this town had a football team! I can remember when a two-bedroom, one-bath house only cost $375,000!
Anyway, as a resident of this great city, let me assure you the best thing about earthquakes is that you don't know when they're coming. (This same thing could be said about tornadoes, which apparently rumbled all across Virginia yesterday, and I have no advice on tornadoes at all because they scare the beejezus out of me. Seriously.)
But while earthquakes may seem sneaky, it's a good thing. There's no "season" for earthquakes, so you don't start dreading June to October. Plus, you don't have weathercasters standing outside in yellow slickers waiting anxiously for rain to begin falling and 24 hour round-the-clock coverage of THE CONE OF UNCERTAINTY. Hey, I lived in Florida (And Mississippi and Louisiana...) I know the cone of uncertainty. It is decidedly uncertain.
While earthquakes may seem like the earth's version of a Silent But Deadly fart, one which causes mass destruction and has no known warning signs, the upside to earthfarts is that no one is clearing the grocery store shelves of bread, milk and vodka two weeks ahead of time. No one has to buy lumber and board up their windows and fill sandbags and tie down the lawn furniture.
Although I personally have witnessed farts which could do such damage. I am just saying is all. A few years ago, I was on a red line train that experienced a Silent But Deadly and we all had to immediately evacuate the car at the next stop and get on another train car. It was almost lethal.
Where was I? Oh yes, earthquakes. So you build yourself a nice big earthquake kit that you have ready "just in case" and the rest of the time you live your life and forget all about earthquakes and hope for the best, which is a pretty good way to live in my opinion.
The earthquake kit is something I am famous for, because while on any given day my fridge may hold three limes and a packet of lunchmeat, my earthquake kit has all the good stuff I don't eat or drink on a regular basis. But earthquakes are special occasions, and in my opinion if you have just lived through a 7.0 and its aftershocks and there is no power and gangs of gun-toting women are perusing the neighborhood, you can have a packet of cheesy garlic powdered mashed potatoes if you want them and you can wash them down with bubble-wrapped vino.
The only thing that's different from my earthquake kit list of 2005 is the cigarettes, which are now gone as I smoked them up right before I paused smoking for good. I can't believe I haven't smoked in 16 months, that is nutty. What I think is so funny is how all these people who do not know me, really know me, were all so sure I'd change my mind about smoking again when I turned 60, because they just knew I'd come to my senses and see how AWFUL and GROSS smoking is. And to be honest with you there are entire days that go by that I think, "How many months until I turn 60 and can start smoking again?" When I turn 60, I am going to have a truckload of cigarettes delivered to me by a scandalously young male stripper, I tell you what. My sixties are going to ROCK.
But anyway, for now the ol' earthquake kit is devoid of the cigarettes. But it does have cheesy garlic mashed potatoes in powdered form.
I keep the disaster preparedness kit in my garage since there's less stuff there to fall on it and endanger the potatoes, plus my house is just too tiny for a big ol' Rubbermaid box of earthquake goodies. I do keep water in the cupboards and extra cat food in the house and so on, but the most important thing about being prepared for a quake is knowing where your eyeglasses are. Oh ye of perfect eyesight will not understand but I'm blind as a bat without my contacts or glasses, and if you place your glasses on the nightstand and the nightstand goes gyrating off into the mystic ... well, it might be a bit hard to find your eyeballs! So I used velcro to attach a small glasses case to the metal part of the bed frame. Now I know where my glasses are if the world starts moving in the middle of the night.
Listen, it is very important to see where you're going.
Also, it is not always bad when the earth moves in the middle of the night. It's just bad when you're alone and it's moving!
Also, how sexy will I be at 70 with my bottle-thick glasses and my chain-smoking? I might even get a little yappy dog to sit on my lap and nip at strangers. I will probably start dyeing my hair a color that does not occur in nature. Frankly, in my later years I plan to not give a damn, my dear. I will end sentences with prepositions and I will cut all the tags off my mattresses!!
So my advice to anyone living in earthquake country is this: Put together a nice big ol' earthquake kit and make sure it has water, food and first-aid supplies. Keep extra pet food and wine on hand at all times. And then forget all about it.
No one expects the Spanish Inquisition! You just can't predict an earthquake, so there's no use worrying about it. If only I could take that philosophy in all areas of my life...
Posted by laurie at 8:31 AM
April 28, 2008
Wish it were Sunday 'cause that's my fun day...
Breaking News: It is Hot And I Need Coffee
There's one good thing about a despicably hot weekend in April: it gives you something to talk about pre-coffee Monday Morning when your interpersonal chitchat skills are at their lowest and you're standing there in the galley actually waiting for the coffee to finish brewing because it's too much exertion to do anything while it brews.
"So!" says cheerful freakish morning-loving co-worker. "How was your weekend?"
"Hot," you mumble.
"Oh my gosh I know, but it was breezy at least! Love that sunshine! Love that Vitamin D!" says Cheerful.
"Coffee," you grunt.
- - -
The Wrath Of Vinegar Man Has Not Subsided
One of the biggest downsides of commuting is that you cannot pick who you commute with. Why I do not commute alone in a darkened vehicle with Al Gore is beyond me, but alas. I commute with them. The masses.
My evil arch-nemesis is Vinegar Man, who smells like a rancid vinegar-sweaty pickle wrapped in dirty underpants. While I know I should be feeling kind and loving and also understanding toward the various issues that face my fellow commuters and humans etc. etc., Vinegar Man makes me physically ill and I want to kill him. But first let me get my HazMat suit because I am not killing him without some filtered oxygen. Lordy his stank is so powerful it can peel paint. There are other people on the bus who've noticed it and remarked on it as well, so at least I know it isn't just my over-active olfactory. I just groan when I see him coming, shirttails flapping, running toward the bus.
The worst part of all this is that Vinegar Man isn't consistent -- sometimes he takes the 6:45, sometimes the 7 a.m. bus and sometimes the 6:30 so on any given day I have to be holding a barfbag nearby just in case. I could move my schedule around if I just knew which bus he was taking but no. Pickledeedee is all over the map. I don't know how the man holds down a job, don't his co-workers suffer? Doesn't he have performance reviews? Don't they have NOSES??? Good grief.
I know I'm grumpy. Plus I forgot my earrings and my laptop. And my hair has static cling today.
But I do not smell like vinegar and that is something.
Posted by laurie at 8:02 AM
April 23, 2008
Back to the future, please.
Have you seen these billboards all around town and on buses that are supposed to be promoting a movie:
That was taken through the plastic window of my Jeep, whoopsy. Anyway, you know what would really suck? It would REALLY suck if your real name were... Sarah Marshall.
Any you know what else would suck? If gas prices got so high that more people than ever started taking mass transit so the city decided that was a good time to begin not just ticketing people who are parked in adjacent lots BUT now they're towing cars! Fun! The city really knows how to make a buck in tight times, I tell you what.
The price has actually gone up since I took this picture.
And to be honest, it's fine ... I'm just getting up earlier and earlier so I can find parking in the currently-legal parking lot (who knows for how long! stay tuned!) but the real thing that irritates me, and I mean REALLY ANNOYS ME TO NO END is that I grew up my whole life thinking that by the time I was as ancient and decrepit as THIRTY, not to mention thirty-plus years old, I was just sure I wouldn't have to own a car at all because I would be going to and fro with my own personal jetpack.
I WANT MY JETPACK DAMMIT.
Posted by laurie at 8:41 AM
April 17, 2008
Bumper philosophy in the city of angels
I take a lot of pictures of bumper stickers and general chitchat happening on the backsides of cars across this city. I'm not sure exactly why I'm so interested in them, but it definitely makes our painfully slow traffic more amusing. The bumper stickers and the nosepickers -- what would I do without them for laughs on the freeways?
I even stop in parking lots and take pictures of bumper stickers that strike me. Maybe it's because on a deeper level I am fascinated that someone would stick a slogan on such a large purchase. Cars typically cost more than a pair of shoes, and you won't catch me putting a sticker on my high heels. So I guess I think of bumper stickers as the car owners' personal philosophy, an expression (succinct and punch-liney as it may be) of that individual's view on life. And I'm fascinated that anyone can sum up their primary life's focus on a bumper sticker. Those license-plate holders with customized saying get me, too, especially because they seem like so much more work than a sticker.
This car caught my eye -- I was riding the bus one day and saw it out the window. It was a foggy, dreary, excruciatingly early morning commute and the Elvismobile got me to crack a smile:
I wonder if he or she has an Elvis Room at home? Or better yet -- a Jungle Room! I love crazed Elvis fans, they're always very nice people and they can usually appreciate a velvet painting. I love a good velvet painting.
Bumper talking amuses me to no end. You can tell the proud parents (and honor students) from the sports fans and political junkies. This one is a bit of a mouthful, though:
"My child is a winner at Westfield Ave. Elem/Westfield Computer Science Magnet." Maybe they should just say, "My kid's school has more words than your kid's school!"
And sometimes there are bumper stickers about your honor student that make me laugh out loud:
Then there are the peaceful commuters who want us to "Coexist!" or "Practice Random Acts of Kindness" and others who want us to Praise Jesus! Support the Troops! and Listen to Viva 107.5!
Lots of folks have opinions they want to share about this country:
I honestly tried to find a bumper sticker that said something pro-Bush just to be all fair and everything, but as it turns out I live in Southern California. Whoopsy. Although this might be pro-Bush:
What exactly does "GUEY" mean, anyway?
By the way, yes I know what guey means and I freely admit I was being somewhat sarcastic in the "this is a joking website" manner, which is funnier when you don't have to point it out.
I love that people stick bumper stickers on their cars. I like seeing if the message and the car align, or if the driver has a sense of humor and I like that some folks feel so strongly about a thing that they find a single, defining message and then they adhere it to their vehicle. I'm not sure the ONE thing I would feel most impassioned about, however, is telling people in traffic that I'm so awesome ... but sadly, I'm "taken":
This I don't understand. Do people just keep approaching you in your vehicle, asking you out on dates? So now we can only assume they REALLY want you but then they read your license plate holder and have to slowly back away, dejected, sad? And also ..in traffic?
And while I guess it's pretty darn cool to produce real twin human beings from your body, I think I would feel weird about letting people know my kids' names (especially in my neighborhood ... "Chester The Child Molester-ville"):
Close-up of her little window sticker:
Close-up of personalized plates:
(Sometimes folks want to know how I get such clear pictures of other cars on the road. Notice these cars are all in front of my Jeep. Notice that we are all not moving. That is how AWESOME traffic is in Los Angeles.)
So I take a lot of pictures of bumpers and rear-ends. I'm reading your messages, but I guess I haven't found my own defining message -- at least one that can be summed up in ten words or less. Sure, "I like wine" has a funny ring to it, but is that something you want to stick on your car? Not to mention I already get the crazies calling me an alkie on a regular basis through the mail ... I don't exactly want to deal with them rolling up alongside me to share their OH SO HELPFUL wisdom.
"Cat ladies are sexy" might work, but I am more than just a woman with some cats. Plus, I like dogs. And horses. And guys. All of which are nice animals, but then the bumper sticker gets too wordy and inclusive.
There are election-year bumper stickers EVERYWHERE, but I don't want to wear my political notions on my Jeep. That's just not my style. I don't have any honor students, or babies on board, and I'm no one's Best Mom, Best Grandma or Best Teacher.
"I like the nightlife, I like to boogie..." might make a catchy bumper slogan, honestly I only like to boogie and enjoy nightlife on weekends if I'm not driving and if we don't have to stand in line and if it's not at some lame pick-up joint or someplace where everyone is fresh out of college and looks like an extra from "The Real World" and only if it's not crowded because I hate crowds. In fact, I really don't like the nightlife in the traditional sense .... ah, perhaps all that is too wordy for the average bumper. And in the end it's still not my defining message.
Some bumper stickers are quotations, I like those a lot. I tried to think of a single quote I would want on my bumper ... my favorite quote of all time is by Dr. Wayne Dyer. He's always saying, "Your opinion about me is none of my business." I love that so much. YOUR OPINION OF ME IS NONE OF MY BUSINESS! It's the truest thing I have ever heard. But I keep that saying close to my heart and don't really need to force it on other people. Besides, do you think Dr. Dyer wants to be quoted on the back of a non-hybrid? Would that be insulting?
In the end, my vehicle remains unadorned. There may indeed be a defining pithy statement inside me somewhere but it's probably about 587 pages long and won't fit on a little square Jeep. Knowing me, my personal philosophy probably has footnotes.
So I'll just keep taking pictures of your bumpers. And your rear-ends, too.
Posted by laurie at 9:27 AM
April 16, 2008
This explains why the Pope won't come to Los Angeles...
The Popemobile probably gets really poor gas mileage and you know, combine that with the worst traffic in the entire nation and a trip out here would probably break the papal bank. Plus he can't take public transportation because there's no security or parking -- I can't find space for my little red Jeep, nevermind a bigass Popemobile. The city just eliminated all the street parking near my park 'n ride lot, so when the lot fills up you have to try to find parking across the street and IF YOU'RE LUCKY and find a spot you then run across five lanes of traffic to get to the bus stop. Sometimes it's easier to drive to work than to spend 40 minutes looking for parking so you can take a bus that may or may not arrive on time. The buses get stuck in traffic, too you know ... there's no carpool lanes on the 101.
I love Los Angeles. But sometimes I want to kick it really hard in the shins.
Posted by laurie at 9:21 AM
April 8, 2008
Ouch
There was no parking at the park 'n ride today. I even got there early, but the lot was full and all the street parking for three blocks was full. How is that possible?
Oh yeah, I forgot:
And it's only April.
Posted by laurie at 8:59 AM
March 31, 2008
Parking is like, a talent, dude.
An early April fool,perhaps?
Posted by laurie at 12:06 PM
February 26, 2008
I do believe I have an account here. And a savings account. And a certificate of deposit.
Maybe later I will make a withdrawal.
Posted by laurie at 8:23 AM
February 7, 2008
They keep looking at you even when you try to move away....
Yesterday the building of my employment was without water. The whole building had no water, no running toilets or sinks in the offices of what appear to be something like 500,000 women all needing to pee at the same time.
Good times, I tell you what.
So on my lunch break I walked to Macy's to avail myself of their services, and that is when I discovered this:
What, people, is this a coordinated cruel joke or something?
Anyway, since I was not about to miss another opportunity to pee, I decided to wait it out while the restrooms got cleaned and that is how I found myself in the dressing room of said Macy's trying on what can only be described as another in a long line of really ill-fated blouse designs:
It's right up there with the "Nips On Fire" shirt of October 2007. I have finally decided that mass-market fashion is either drunk or crazy, or maybe both, but either way I was not it's tragic victim for one day, at least ... I walked out empty-handed. After I made use of the ladies room, of course.
But the shirt still haunts me...
The question for today is, "Will the water be back on when I arrive at work, and if not will I find myself in yet another dressing room trying on yet another shirt that is hilariously drunk and/or crazy and/or staring at me from the breastage area?"
Ah, my life. So very exciting.
- - -
Comments are closed, have a great day!
Posted by laurie at 7:07 AM
January 4, 2008
StormWatch!!!! (with updates)
This past week has been crazy-busy, trying to cover all the bases at work with so many folks still on vacation and prepare for some tiny time off of my own. I don't think I have had real time off work (for non-working reasons) for something like two years, yikes. But Drew is coming to town! And so part of next week I'll be off shopping and eating In-n-Out cheeseburgers and oh yeah, trying furtively to build an ark so we can get around what with THE DEADLIEST STORM OF ALL TIME!!!! coming our way.
Last night I called Drew to tell him that on the local news I heard our government officials were cautioning people to stock up on provisions and stay indoors. Because of rain. So I needed to know if he had any provisions he especially needed me to stock up on.
"Um, wine, I guess?" he said.
"Yeah, have you met me?" I replied. "That's the only thing I'm stocked up on. Well, that and cats."
So his plane arrives tomorrow and I hope his flight isn't delayed from all the SPRINKLING. The news has been on StormWatch 2008 since yesterday morning but we still have yet to see a drop of water:
The only thing that can get the local news off the Big Rain Story is something really important, nationally breaking news:
Yeah. Not the results in Iowa or what's happening with the war or even if the el stupidos who taunted the tiger really had slingshots or not. No. It's Britney Spears news!
I kind of think if I were running for office and no one were paying attention to me, I'd just stop bothering with making TV ads and stuff and use all my money to pay Britney Spears to travel with me for one month. You would have more media coverage than any other story on the planet!
But the thing that really caught my eye about the Britney story was this:
Who is that lady? And why is she so... LIVE? hee.
Anyway, have a good weekend and if you see news of a little red jeep in Southern California being swept away on a torrential puddle ... well, wave and say hey because it's probably me.
- - - - - BREAKING NEWS !!!! - - - - -
Faith just called, she's at Pico and Roxbury and she is seeing evidence of what appears to be some sort of precipitation, mainly backed up by the factual HONKING which always precedes a storm.
Here in downtown, we have moved from partly cloudy to real cloudy:
This is Laurie, signing out from Los Angeles at 11 a.m. Pray for us.
- - - - - NOON UPDATE !!!! - - - - -
I did not see the actual sprinkling since I was working and had my back to the window, but it appears some actual water fell on the people of Los Angeles downtown. I also hear a lot of sirens, so it must already be affecting traffic. Awesome! I do see evidence in the form of slightly damp streets and people carrying umbrellas:
P.S. Faith thinks we should pick Drew up from the airport tomorrow and go directly to Cedars where Britney is being held and watch the vigil of crazy people, fans, and paparazzi in the rain thereby combining all forms of Los Angelesness into one outing....
- - - - - DEVELOPING STORY !!!! - - - - -
Mysterious drops of water have appeared on the windowsill of the building as the mist increases in both intensity and frequency:
And just in case it isn't abundantly clear, yes I am making jokes and yes, I understand the potential severity of the storm. I do live here, after all. In fact, I live practically on top of the flood basin. I'm not looking forward to the commute home or standing out in the rain waiting for the bus that will be an hour late because of traffic. Or trying to navigate the 405 to LAX - which always floods - but I can't control the weather. YET. So I make my jokes. It is what I do.
Posted by laurie at 9:01 AM
December 18, 2007
The space-time continuum comes to a grinding halt because WATER falls from SKY makes PERIL. End transmission.
Dear normal humans who have things like "snow,"
Are you aware that I live in the WEIRDEST CITY on the ENTIRE PLANET of Earth? This is still Earth, yes? And not some weird parallel LosAngeleMars where people do things such as HONK because ... OH GOD IT IS RAINING NOW WE DIE.
Anyway, traffic. People running into the vehicles in front of them, people losing the ability to navigate under torrential sprinkling, WILL THE PAPARAZZI BE ABLE TO GET A CLEAR SHOT OF BRITNEY AT THE STARBUCKS WITH THIS AWFUL WEATHER?
The world stops spinning on its axis, welcome to Los Angeles in the rain. Later someone's house will be sitting on a canyon road somewhere.
Your friend,
Frizzy
- - - - -
Exhibit A: PUDDLE
Exhibit B: STORM DAMAGE
Posted by laurie at 9:51 AM
December 5, 2007
Buyer beware...?
Posted by laurie at 9:20 AM
October 22, 2007
Los Angeles is smokin'
Fire season freaks me out. The fact that I live in a part of the country that even has a "fire season" freaks me out. I love you little California, please stop burning.
I took that picture above from the Jeep of course, I was on my way to the mall to return something (I bought the best Ralph Lauren shirt with a surplice wrap bodice, perfect for speaking in front of a crowd because it is in pit-hiding all black and then when I packed it for the trip last week I discovered it had a hole in the back. Sad. Very sad.) and anyway, the mall in Northridge was rendered spooky and eerie by a fire sky.
Fire sky is one thing you start to recognize once you've lived here for a few years. We may talk a big talk about how we have no weather here in SoCal, but our dirty little secret is the wind. Santa Ana winds, more specifically, huge hurricane-strength gusts that come out of the dry deserts and sandblast the roads, pile leaves in your yard, knock over trees and fan the fires. The fires scare me.
The mall, usually my safe haven in times of sorrow, also scares me sometimes.
(Segue of the year award right there!!!!)
The mall sometimes lures me into its dressing rooms with its promise of cuteness and a vibrating Macy's return-credit card. (I love that Macy's has a 180 day return policy and they can look your purchase up without a receipt. I also love that the one in Sherman Oaks has the Marc Jacobs stuff right next to the Lucky Brand jeans. That's my kind of floor arrangement.)
But sometimes it all goes wrong, for example when you are trying to break out of all-black while still harnassing the powers of sweat-concealing design....
"I'm a designer! I have a great idea! Let's put flame thingies right on the nipplage! That way all signs will point to boobies!"
Yeah, I don't think so.
I may live in a city that is on fire, but I don't need my own nips to be pointed out with little red flames. Yeah. No thank you.
Posted by laurie at 9:31 AM
September 26, 2007
People! Stop leaving your houses on the 101!
First it was the big house left stranded on the northbound 101 before Cahuenga Blvd. Some dumbaii and his Big Brain thought it would be an awesome idea to move a WHOLE HOUSE from Santa Monica to Santa Clarita right up the 101 freeway ... all by himself. He just loaded it up on a flatbed and away he went. Except (unlike most knitters, who are clearly more clever than your average human) he was apparently not armed with a mystical "measuring device" and so his house was too tall and started clipping the overpasses on the freeway. Then the wheels fell off the flatbed, so he abandoned said house, yes, a WHOLE HOUSE, on the 101 for over a week and traffic has been an everloving nightmare.
At first I felt bad for the dude because his house became a huge target for taggers and it was covered in graffiti after about 15 seconds alone on the spooky nighttime Ventura Highway, cue Tom Petty. But after spending almost three hours trapped on the bus on the 101 on Monday night because CalTrans had to block off lanes because OH YEAH THERE IS A HOUSE ON THE FREEWAY, I myself would have gladly picked up some spray paint and given him a piece of my mind.
I didn't of course, because that would have required me to drive back on the freeway.
Anyway, finally last night CalTrans removed the house. Yay! Except... when I got on the 101 this morning on the opposite side of the Valley I saw this:
People. Go back to leaving shoes, sofas and ladders on the freeway. This house littering trend is just excessive.
In other news...
It appears that even though I pleaded to The Powers Above about this whole 80s problem, no one was listening to my issues and felt it would be a fine idea to bring back all sorts of puff-sleeved tomfoolery. However, for those of you without tree-trunk legs, I thought you'd like to see this item:
Legwarmers, surreptitiously photographed at Target.
Yes, cable-knit legwarmers on the left, and a cute multicolored stockinette in the round pair on the right. Interestingly enough, neither pair had any shaping or ribbing at all on the edges, so maybe you would actually need tree trunks like mine to keep them up!
And finally:
Wonder what that is?
If I have learned anything in all my time commuting and complaining about traffic, it is that you should have a little portable knitting tucked in your bag at all times! You never know when you might be sitting on the freeway because someone left a HOUSE on it and you have hours at your disposal to dream up goofy items for Halloween....
Posted by laurie at 5:50 AM
September 20, 2007
WILL WE PERISH? WILL MY HAIR FRIZZ?
Already the news stations are pre-tracking STORM WATCH 2007. If you thought the driving was bad yesterday, be sure to stay tuned tomorrow when the second largest city in the United States of America comes to a complete halt because of...
... drumroll please ...
WATER FALLING FROM THE SKY.
You folks who don't live here think I am making this up. Those of you who do live here are wondering, "Can I call in sick tomorrow?" I hope your survival gear is intact, your pantry is stocked with Frizz-ease products and your Starbucks card is at the ready.
I love this city. I can't help it. It's kind of like being trapped in a love affair with a gorgeous but certifiably crazy person who you want to leave but you just can't imagine your life without all the dramaticalness so you stay to see what will happen next. I hope I survive what can only be called The Impending Doom of Dampness. Stay tuned!
Posted by laurie at 9:37 AM
September 19, 2007
Back to life, back to reality, back to the here and now again...
Another study was released recently proving once and for all again that Los Angeles has the worst traffic in America. It's so reassuring, in a crazy-making way, that you are not crazy and exaggerating but that you are merely observant. There's something about being number one, isn't there?
I wish I were a better person in so many ways and I'm trying to reach for all kinds of enlightened even though I still think cute shoes are a real priority (and recently I bought a book by the Dalai Lama
But anyway, the point of all this was to tell you one area where I am failing miserably on the enlightenment (aside from vegetarianism and cute shoes.) (And men selection.) (Wow, this could be a long list.) And that ONE area I want to share is my really unfortunate and awful driving hatefulness.
Some people call this "road rage" but I am not rageful. I am just downright hateful in traffic ... toward other people. BAD people. While I'm sure I am not the world's best driver I do try very hard not to piss people off in traffic. For example, I not only know where the blinkers are I EVEN USE THEM. This alone makes me a rarity in the Los Angeles car culture. In addition, I don't talk on the cell phone and drive at the same time, unless we are in stopped traffic and I'm just idling in first gear or neutral. But if real driving is happening, there is no phone talking -- another feature which makes me a rare species of vehicular operators in this city.
Finally, I am never a deliberate jerk in traffic. I don't cut people off, tailgate or leave too far of a gap between me and the person ahead of me (thereby ensuring the person behind me will need to swerve all around just to get ahead of me out of frustration.) In general, I watch the road and do the best I can.
But I am hateful mad at those who do not try to be decent drivers. Like this guy:
In this picture, you may notice he is not only cutting me off, he is also fully blocking the lane next to me. In morning rush-hour traffic, he decided he was better than the rest of us lame-o drivers who actually waited patiently in our lane to get on the freeway. So, using his powers of Dumbassery, he left the line of drivers turning onto the freeway and got into the main driving lanes then slammed on his brakes, jack-knifed ahead of me and almost caused the guy behind him to hit him and almost caused me to hit him. When there was honking, this fine individual FLIPPED US OFF.
So I extracted my revenge by uh, you know. Taking pictures of him. Perhaps not as satisfying as beating him soundly with my handbag, but still mildly satisfying in the "Well this will at least keep me out of prison" way.
I was REALLY mad about this guy. He almost caused two accidents and also was just being a real piece of work. Then I felt bad for being so hateful again in traffic. In other areas of my life I try to give folks the benefit of the doubt, but in traffic there is just not a nice sweet bone in my body. So I thought, "What would Deepak Chopra do? He's probably not hateful in traffic." And because I am full-up on my self-help, I knew Deepak would send the dude a little prayer.
So I tried. I tried, I really did. "Dear God, this ugly dude is pissing me off and I hate him and his banged up car ... gee no wonder his car is all smooshed, look how he drives!...oh crap this is so not how Deepak would do it. Let me try again..."
I sat there and tried to breathe. After all, traffic wasn't moving. It's not like we were going anywhere. I had time to get my Deepak on.
"OK, God, it's me again trying to be nicer. See, I am trying to pray for this HEY YOU SH*THEAD THE LIGHT IS GREEN YOU WANTED IN HERE THAT MEANS GO JESUS CHRIST ON A CRACKER ARE YOU BRAIN DEAD oh crap!! God that was so not part of the prayer!! I am so sorry, let me try again. But seriously, the light was green. Also sorry about the Jesus part."
(Sitting at the red light. Waiting.)
"Ok, God, I am doing the best I can here. How about we just forget the green car guy and call it a day."
The light turned finally to a green arrow. Green car guy whipped illegally into the carpool on-ramp and vanished.
"Thanks, God. I appreciate it."
So, I guess getting my Deepak on helped a little. I tried to take back the prayer that came next but it was too late, it had already formed into consciousness.
"And if his penis falls off later that would be OK, too."
Whoopsy. Please don't tell Deepak.
Posted by laurie at 7:06 AM
August 27, 2007
Burgers 'n Bikers
On Sunday I got invited to Faith's house for a cookout and birthday party for Michael, who shocked me by turning 40! He's far too babyfaced for 40.
Although ... I keep saying no one looks their age and I am starting to wonder what exactly does an age look like? Especially in Los Angeles where even your gardener gets a little work done. (Not that there's anything wrong with it! I'm totally getting my boobs done when they reach my waistband, so there.) Recently I was asked how old I am and I almost reverted back to the time between 2002-2004 when I lied about my age profusely to everyone, everywhere, all the time. I was maybe in denial of so many things such as "husband, not loving me" and "ass, getting larger" and also "me, so not 24 anymore." Anyway, I have grown so much since then and become very self-aware and enlightendish and so on and as God is my witness I did not REALLY lie about my age. I just whispered it. Very, very softly. Then I coughed. Then said, "Look! Fire engines!"
I am pathetic.
Motorcycles! And gosh. Burbank is GREEN.
"So, Faith, is anyone in this biking club cute?"
"Yes, they're all great guys!"
"Are they hot?"
"A lot of them."
I paused. "Nice, cute guys? They're all gay, aren't they?"
"Yup!"
Also, later I learned it is not called a "biking club" but instead referred to as a "motorcycle gang." Tomato, tomahto!
Faith did such a good job grilling that I made her an honorary Southerner.
Pretty Jane and her adorable kid, Emmett.
OK, I really did want to steal this guy's dog, it was this adorable little black friendly puppy and I am very sure he would have fit in my purse. I have a pretty big purse. But I think they were on to me after I announced I was stealing him. Next time I'll be quieter.
Me and Justin Angel ... Matchy!
I had such a good time just hanging out and chitchatting with total strangers even though I did that thing where I nervously twitter to much about... Lord only know what. But because I was at Faith's house and knew a few of the folks there it was still comfortable and fun and no one seemed to mind too much that I was nervous talking. Even just a few months ago I would have gone home and berated myself for what ever dumb thing had escaped from my mouth but now I just don't bother, it's too exhausting. Life is short. Talking happens!
I spend a lot of time alone (another thing I used to feel bad about, always wondering why I wasn't like other people, with packed schedules and lots of social engagements) and I think maybe I have finally accepted that this is who I am. I love being alone. I was always a weird child, off in my own world, able to amuse myself way out in the country with no one nearby but my brothers who at that point were allergic to annoying weirdo sisters. When I was married it was easier to be less social, people seemed to expect less of me (as if having a husband were some form of completion.)
When I first moved out on my own I worried about becoming a total hermit. But I needed that time, and as my life got better and I got less puddled up I began to feel embarrassed for being so socially awkward, so reclusive. Had I made aloneness habitual? Was there something wrong with me? Shouldn't I be filling my free time with people and events like everyone else does? My girlfriends were always going out to clubs or bars or dinners or little get-togethers or playing tennis or meeting for this and that. I guess that's just not my movie, and I've stopped trying to hide it. I'm apparently someone who works better with solitude for recharging, thinking, resting, typing, reading, whatevering.
And it's the time I spend alone that makes me enjoy other people's company so much when we do get together. I loved seeing Jane and her husband El Rabbi and their baby and catching up on our mutual friends and I was so happy that Charlie remembered me (I've met him like six times but somehow I always think people don't see me) and it was so much fun watching Faith master that big gas grill! Justin was a perfect host-helper, too, Lord that man ought to make a business out of being an event planner. And I got to see Michael blow out the candles on his 40th birthday cookie. It was awesome.
I'm really lucky to have friends who invite me to their birthdays and backyard get-togethers. I'm lucky to know people who don't seem to mind one bit that I just chatter on nervously sometimes or that I'm not the most social of butterflies.
I'm also lucky to have friends who just ignore me when I start telling the guests I'm meeting for the first time that I'm 28. Or was it 26? Tomato, tomahto!
Posted by laurie at 6:28 AM
August 9, 2007
Shaken and not stirred at all, actually
Apparently we had an earthquake last night that rattled people awake all across the valley. I don't think I felt it. Well, to be more accurate, I might be immune to real earthquakes (at least those registering under a 5.0) because I usually think we're having an earthquake every single night and it ends up being nothing more than a Bobquake. The bed shimmies and shakes when he jumps on it, and everyone just shoots him a dirty look and goes back to sleep.
Bob doesn't miss a lot of meals.
In other news, no one at work believed me and my "I cannot go into the back-backyard anymore for fear of being kidnapped and eaten by giant mutant squash help me." They thought I was doing that thing where I'm just being all dramatic and they ignored me.
So this morning I carried an eleventy-eight pound example in to the office. I thought people would get scared and run. I totally underestimated the efficiency of my workplace! Even though budgets are tight, it appears he has been assimilated and is learning how to work the copy machine. Apparently he doesn't talk back as much as I do and he works for less money.
If I think he's starting to get cozy in my office, though, I will not hesitate to break out the salt, pepper and olive oil. Ambitious jerk won't even see it coming...
Posted by laurie at 9:49 AM
May 9, 2007
The smoke gets in your eyes.
Yesterday on the bus ride home I got a few pictures of the backside of the Griffith Park fire:
As of this morning, the news was reporting that the fire might have been started by a fellow on the golf course who threw out a lit cigarette. After he threw it out, apparently he saw that a fire was starting so he tried to put it out and in doing so was burned severly and is now at the burn center in Sherman Oaks.
I'm not sure if this news report is accurate, but let's assume for a minute that it is.
Yes, of course it's a dumbass move to throw a cigarette out in nature here in Los Angeles when it is A) parched from the driest rainy season on record and B) close to 100 degrees outside and C) less than 7% humidity and D) very windy. But all dumbassery aside, don't you know that guy is in his hospital room watching this coverage of the giant blaze roaring toward the Griffith Observatory and encroaching upon the Los Angeles Zoo and threatening to incinerate homes in Los Feliz, and he's thinking, HOLY CRAP. I SHOULD HAVE QUIT AT NEW YEAR'S LIKE I PROMISED.
Also on the news last night they had a small interview with Mayor Villaraigosa, who had just returned from seeing the front lines of the fire. In this interview the Mayor was gesturing with his hands and I saw this:
Doesn't it look like our mayor is wearing one of those purple Complaint Free World bracelets?
Now ya'll know I am all about positivity and trying to use my mind to convince myself that I will not forever keep screwing up and end up in a corner trying to eat my own head. But complaining is my major cardio, I have always said it burns calories, and while I do not complain to excess in my daily life I don't know how one manages to get through traffic without doing so, vigorously.
Drew and I both saw the Oprah show that featured this Complaint Free bracelet thing, and he called me to see if I was going to get one.
Drew: So, are you going to order one of those bracelets?
Me: Well, as soon as I saw them I immediately thought of ten people who I should buy them for, but I myself wasn't on that list.
Drew: Why?
Me: Um. Well. I was already complaining about the color, and I thought perhaps that was a sign I was too far gone a case. I might need something stronger than a bracelet.
Drew: Indeed.
But anyway, it looks like our Mayor is doing his part to rid City Hall of whiners. I like that initiative, and I support anyone who is trying to make positive change. Besides he is already very thin and fit and probably doesn't need the metabolic boost I am sure, just completely sure, we get from complaining.
Indeed!
Posted by laurie at 8:53 AM
February 22, 2007
I Need Wide Open Spaces (probably because of the restraining order, but anyway.)
I moved all over as a kid. People ask me all the time where I'm from, and they especially ask it when they hear the twang in my voice. Sometimes I say Mississippi, or Louisiana, or Tennessee, all of which are true. I lived a long while in all three of those states, moving from middle school (Louisiana) to teenage angst (Mississippi) to college (Tennessee) and back.
But I am and always will be from Texas, having been born there and hauled around from one South Texas town to another during most of my early childhood. Being born in Texas is like being born Catholic... you just are. When I think of that big, rambling state I think of Comfort, Texas, population 200. It is a town so small and perfect the way all small towns are, and I loved living there, I loved the school bus stop and the cows on the farm (Holstein, in case you wondered) and I also wanted desperately, terribly to leave it the way you do when you are young and want to know there is more to the world than chickens and cows and shoveling manure out of the barn.
When I moved to Los Angeles, I obsessively listened to the Dixie Chicks' "Wide Open Spaces" and as we drove up through Van Horn, Texas, the last outpost on the way to the west, I finally saw a sky so big I thought it would swallow me whole and I knew what wide-open spaces meant in the song and in Texas and in my life. And how I was moving to a city wide open to me, new, completely terrifying and exhilirating at the same time.
There would be no manure shoveling where I was going, unless it was metaphorical manure. (Of which there was suprisingly plenty!)
Anyway, you might be wondering what this has to do with restraining orders. Ya'll know how us Southerners are with the storytelling. All in good time! And it ain't a story if it doesn't end with the law being called!
Yesterday I was sitting at my desk in the middle of downtown Los Angeles, in a high-rise fancypants building, working away on a design project and living about as far away from manure-shoveling in Comfort, Texas as possible when my phone rang. It was Jeff, the husband half of Jeff and Audrey, friends of mine I met through Stitch 'n Bitch. Now this was a rather strange occurrance seeing as I have met Jeff a sum total of three times and we don't phonecall each other on a regular basis or ever.
On the suggestion of Audrey, his amazing and also thoughtful and very much saintly wife who I will be thanking for years to come, also she has a great haircut, he had phoned to invite me to a special screening of "Shut Up & Sing," the documentary film made about the Dixie Chicks and the fallout from lead singer Natalie Maines' controversial comments at a London concert.
And normally I would say no to invitations or not show up because I am terribly socially awkward and talk too much and am shy, conversely, and also usually take the bus so I have a built-in reason to decline on the grounds of having no homeward-bound transport. But coincidentally, I missed the bus that morning by ONE DADGUM MINUTE and so I had driven in to work and arrived late and had not understood why the universe of traffic was punishing me so.
Apparently, traffic wanted me to see the Dixie Chicks movie. Also, apparently I am turning into my father because I just said DADGUM, a word I have never before uttered in my life on principle. Nice.
I was SO EXCITED to see this movie! Because I do not care what your politics are. I like people who reside in blue, red, and purple states. I even like people who reside in orange politics although that color is very unflattering on my skin tone. I like all ya'll as long as you are nice to animals and have good table manners. But more than all that, I LOVE ME SOME DIXIE CHICKS. They have been the soundtrack to my life. They mean something special to girls like me, girls who would totally bury an Earl if her best friend needed her to.
So even though I was wearing my schlumpiest clothes and Cardigan Of Constant Sorrow and my hair was a mess and I had a blemish sizably recognizant of the Lone Star State, I said yes to Jeff and Audrey's invitation. Because it is Year Of The Pig, and in the Year Of The Pig we do things we are afraid of like leave the comfort of our day-to-day lives and we take the opportunies life hands us because we are piggy! And hungry! And we want to eat life! In the good, polite southern way of course, with nice table manners.
From L-R: Me, Audrey and Jeff. My photography skills are so... unique.
This event took place at the Los Angeles Library, one of my favorite places in all of L.A., and was part of the Young Literati series (you can learn more about this cool organization at www.youngliterati.org). They host a series of events that you should attend if you live anywhere near the Los Angeles metro area, because you never know what can happen when you hang out where the books live!
I was excited enough just to see the film, but then I found out the filmmakers would be attending for a Q&A session afterward. Barbara Kopple, co-director of Shut Up & Sing, is a big-time filmmaking documentarian superstar and Cecilia Peck, the other co-director, is the daughter of Gregory Peck! I felt very Hollywood and smart attending such a thing, especially since ya'll know the extent of my personal glamour is usually evenings involving some combination of Tivo, wine and yarn while a cat sits on my foot. Sexy!
So this story could end right here and be perfect. The end.
Except... you will never guess who was at the screening and got up on stage for the Q & A session.
NATALIE MAINES, LEAD SINGER OF THE DIXIE CHICKS.
Hello, restraining order. You are beginning to make sense now. We are getting to you! And here are pictures and also some video I took of the Q&A session:
Video, crappy quality but it's from my little Kodak digital camera:
And this story could end RIGHT HERE now and be perfect, except it isn't a party until we get our stalker on, now is it? At the end of the Q&A session, I was about to fall over with excitement of having breathed the SAME AIR as a Dixie Chick, royalty to a countryass girl like myself, when Jeff suggested we make our way up and say hey.
Which I would NEVER do. Because already when he just mentioned it I started to shake a little with nervousness and stuttered. But then I remembered Year Of The Pig and said, "Hell. I have one chance in my lifetime to meet NATALIE FREAKING MAINES and I will take that chance and probably stutter! Here Goes!"
Ya'll, I am not a person who foists herself on others. I do not even foist when foisting is desired, say, with the cute UPS guy or the checkout eyecandy at Trader Joe's. I am not a foister. But I walked right up on that stage and made a big huge stalkery fool of myself and it all poured out in one huge run-on sentence, something twangy about Comfort, Texas and "Wide Open Spaces" and how much I loved that they were Texas gals made good, and thank you oh thank you, can I have a picture please? And also blah blah blah not a stalker but I love you! So much!
And Natalie Maines is likely having the FBI draw up some sort of profile of a crazy woman right now and calling up the law about that restraining order, but although I definitely made a fool ass of myself and I know I was shaking with nervousness, I could feel it, and I was sweating under one armpit, I still actually did it and I talked to her and I even got my picture taken with her:
Notice how BIG I am smiling. Notice Natalie Maines is... not so much. Heh.
Consider that one lesson firmly learned. If you get an opportunity, you should take it and say to hell with the foolass part of you that stutters and likely is on a Stalker Watch List somewhere. Even if you are dressed in your Cardigan of Constant Sorrow and are profusely sweating under one armpit, good things can happen if you just leave your dadgum house.
Posted by laurie at 9:45 AM
November 10, 2006
Passion for Potholes
Zach at LAist understands me. He knows I am crazy, and that I have a herd of felines, and that sometimes I develop obsessive tics, like for example the way I spout off about traffic every two and a half minutes.
I do not know Zach, in the sense of "we have met and seen each other and are not just innernet weirdoes." I merely know that he is Perfect, because he does not Judge. He has a website, too. Stalk stalk.
Since it was election week, a lot of folks asked me how I felt about the outcome (The Governator: The Sequel) and the changes in Washington and so on. And I said pretty much the same thing, over and over again:
"I have potholes on my street that could swallow a school bus."
If asked in more detail what I thought about Democrats or Republicans or Congress, I said:
"And also, I hate the Orange Line. And why for the love of fat Elvis can't they time the FREAKING TRAFFIC LIGHTS ON WHITE OAK? WHY?"
People soon stopped asking me election-day questions.
I used to be very passionate about politics, I even worked on a Presidential campaign once in college as a volunteer. I'll admit that I had a madly inappropriate crush on Al Gore. He was a Tennessean, you know. And he looked really good in red plaid flannel shirts.
Maybe I lost my passionate fervor with politics around the same time people started getting really weird about the subject, like they would CUT YOU if you didn't like their candidate. You looked the wrong way at someone's White Guy In A Tie, and they would bust a fact up in yo ass! Yo yo!
Then I got divorced and I was like, "Politics? Are you kidding me? I AM CRYING HERE DO NOT BOTHER ME WITH YOUR SILLY VOTING." After I re-emerged from the fog of dissolution, it became very clear to me that there was one pressing political question, and that was: WHY CAN'T THIS CITY FIX THE DAMN POTHOLES AND TIME THE LIGHTS?
For the most part I like our Mayor, Antonio Villaraigosa. He seems like a nice guy and he's from the 'hood and all that. Except... he's not from the Valley Hood. In the mayoral primary, I voted for Bob Hertzberg because he was a nice Jewish boy from the Valley and I figured he might care deeply about the potholes plaguing the finest place on earth. He lost, but I held out hope for Antonio. I thought maybe he could help us all ... rich and poor, young and old, black, brown, white, botoxed beyond recognition. I thought he might actually pave something.
I have wishes, people. I have dreams. They may not be the passionate dreams of someone taking over the Senate, but they are my dreams all the same.
For example, I might out of sheer happiness molest the first road crew I see filling up the potholes on my street.
And I really do wish that Mayor Antonio would come to Encino and try to get on the 101 on-ramp at White Oak each morning during rush hour for one whole week. I think he would be interested in the half-hour he loses merely trying to turn left ... with the help of a left-turn arrow, even! He might wonder why the lights are so badly timed. He might honk, because that is what we do every morning. It's very exciting in the Valley, you could die of old age trying to merge on the freeway.
And I would like every person on the City Council and the Board of the MTA to ride the Orange Line each day during rush hour for one whole week. They might wonder at first why people are literally shoving them out of the way, trampling them to get on the bus. Shhhh! It's a secret! There just aren't enough buses! So people shove, kick and push you to get on the one overcrowded bus available and stand squeezed in like toothpicks for thirty minutes. And by the way, PEOPLE OFTEN SMELL BAD. Soap is not optional, folks.
I would like the Mayor to force his wife or daughter to ride the Red Line subway each night from downtown to North Hollywood at 7:45 p.m. each evening, just as I do when I work late. I think they would feel so safe, what with the complete absence of security. Then his daughter or wife would have to walk alone to her car through a parking lot that has three working bulbs. Try it! So much fun!
And then of course, they would drive home, through the Valley on darkened streets that are full of potholes and they would hit every single red light along the way.
I care, people. I care deeply. My passion is potholes. And traffic. And wine. And with those qualifications I should probably run for office ... except for the molesting of road crews part. Those darn sex scandals get you every time.
Posted by laurie at 9:25 AM
November 9, 2006
In my defense, your honor, I am crazy, too.
I can't believe I'm going to tell ya'll this story.
When I first moved to Los Angeles, I worked at the Los Angeles Daily News. I wanted desperately to be an ace reporter, but instead I was pulling down a cool $7.15 an hour (part-time!) writing press releases in the PR department. Oh, the largesse.
(I did eventually migrate to the newsroom and I even got a front-page Travel section story once. But prior to that, I was a Public Relations hack.)
I was REALLY BAD at Public Relations. Not because I don't like the public or their relations, but because I was young and inexperienced and THERE ARE A LOT OF CRAZY PEOPLE IN LOS ANGELES. And one thing about the newspaper industry is that it is a fertile breeding ground for nuts. Every two-bit fruitcake with access to any form of correspondence will eventually contact the local newspaper. And you know who gets the craziest ones? The low girl on the totem pole.
And that was me.
About three months after I had started working at the newspaper I started receiving calls from a man we'll call Mr. Smith. I do not know how Mr. Smith got my direct line, but I can only assume it was one of the charming front desk folks who loved the new kid in PR.
Mr. Smith called me every day to complain that the newspaper carrier in his neighborhood was beaming alien death rays into his home via the dispatch radio.
Mr Smith: He drives into the neighborhood in a truck with a large antenna...
Me: Yes?
Mr Smith: And that's when it starts.
Me: What starts? The newspaper delivery route starts?
Mr Smith: No. Well, yes. But most disturbingly ... that is when the alien beams start coming into my house.
Me: I see. That is disturbing.
Mr Smith: WHAT DO YOU PLAN TO DO ABOUT THIS?
This went on for months, because I think Mr. Smith was lonely and really just wanted someone to talk to and ya'll know. I was getting paid $7.15 an hour. I was kind of on the fast track to crazy myself, and he was the most amusing of all the regulars. There was the lady who called to complain about how the ink on her morning paper made her sneeze, the guy who threatened to sue us if we didn't start printing the daily comics in color again, and the woman who refused to get out of bed unless she could call the horroscope line, which we had discontinued. So guess who she called every morning promptly at 8:45 a.m. to read her that morning's newspaper horoscope? Three guesses!
And by now ya'll should know me well enough to know that not only am I a magnet for crazy, I myself am also interested in people and what makes them tick and so on, and also I am terribly Southern so I am polite and indulge people even when perhaps I should move on and change the locks. The crazies just became part of the job, and I felt like I was doing a public service in a way. Even if I kind of sucked at the job I was at least making thirty-seven certifiably insane Los Angelenos happy.
And hey, they were subscribers after all.
After a few months, Mr. Smith and I were on a friendly basis. He really was quite tormented by the alien rays, and I couldn't exactly tell the Daily News to stop delivering newspapers in the eight-mile radius of his Canoga Park residence as he requested. That is when I told him about the Southern Alien Death Ray Miracle Cure. It involved tin foil and duct tape.
I didn't hear from as regularly, so I thought my Alien Death Ray Miracle Cure had worked. Then one day I got a call.
Mr Smith: Laurie, I tell you, it was fine for a while but now the rays are getting worse and I can't sleep at night.
Me: Well, Mr. Smith, did you put the tin foil on top of the TV like I told you to?
Mr Smith: Yes, and it worked! But now I think the alien rays are back, and they're ... stronger!
Me: I see. Are you using the heavy duty freezer tin foil?
Mr Smith: Why do you call it 'tin foil'?
Me: Mr. Smith, I think what we have here are the, uh, the porous rays that can travel through, uh, ions. And so you're saying the tin foil worked when you put it on top of the TV set right?
Mr Smith: Yes, but then it...
Me: You need to take pieces of tin foil, the HEAVY DUTY kind, and tape it over all the unused electrical outlets. Don't stick your finger in a socket or anything, just tape in over them externally. That will do it.
Mr Smith: WHY didn't I think of that MYSELF! That's it! I knew it! I have to go!
And I never heard from him again.
Sometimes I wonder what happened to him, and if he's living in a house in Canoga Park covered from floor to ceiling in tin foil and if it's somehow my fault, or if I brought him peace from the alien death rays. I hope he didn't electrocute himself. He seemed like a really nice guy, aside from the psychosis.
So, as you can see, I never made it as an ace reporter. But damn I was good with the crazies.
And hey... they were subscribers, after all!
Posted by laurie at 9:47 AM
October 31, 2006
The Real Scary
Today is Halloween. I guess you got the memo.
However, the kind folks at Macy's do not seem to be aware of this, it being October 31 and all. I know this because in my quest to bring sexy back, and also shopping as therapy, and also, listen, I have anxiety in my life right now, ok? So I know shopping isn't the best way to deal with it, perhaps, like I should maybe be off sponsoring a child in some corner of the world where Angelina and Madonna have yet to roam, but instead I wandered around Macy's trying to find a cardigan that doesn't do that gaping-button-thing on my boobs. Perhaps my priorities are askew, but SO NOT THE POINT.
The point in scary fact is that there are CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS ALL OVER THE MACY'S. I am frightened of all the looming holidayness.
Also, the other point of horror. I was wandering around and in the Macy "Woman" section (please do NOT get me started) there were plenty of these:
Formal shorts. OH YEAH GOOD IDEA.
I believe I speak on behalf of all women-sized women when I say: Dear designers, we do not want formal shorts this winter. Take your formal shorts and shove them up your size double-zero backside.
How about a nice, simple cardigan in clean lines? Or, God forbid, how about one blouse JUST ONE, OKAY? that is well-cut, nicely fitted, in a quality fabric and doesn't have sparkles, glitter or some ass-o-riffic shiny applique on it? I know you think women-sized-women love freaking appliques and beads and printed fabric that looks like Carmen Miranda had a hallucinogenic episode and thew up on it.
But we do not. It's a fact. And you can put that in your formal shorts and smoke it.
Posted by laurie at 1:04 PM
October 13, 2006
Sure, it fits.
Posted by laurie at 10:04 AM
October 10, 2006
The wheels on the bus go round and round.
Ya'll, don't you sort of wonder what the people on the bus think of me when I whip out my camera and start taking moving pictures of... the sidewalk? Do ya'll think that living in this city with all the crazies and nutjobs and Paris Hiltons and scabies just makes one dorky little camera lady look ... not so scary? Perhaps?
Because that is my Basic Operating Theory, that if I stay below the crazy radar maybe I can continue about my happy way with my camera and my fixation on monkeys and gnomes and even if I do have a fine layer of cat hair on my trousers from knee to ankle, I still pale in comparison to the wackos in my midst. Right?
Just nod and smile. It's okay.
Hey, so not like there is any purpose AT ALL to this, but here is a video of my bus ride through Chinatown... we were going remarkably fast for afternoon drive. I think it was Yom Kippur, no traffic.
Smile! You're on dorko camera!
Posted by laurie at 11:28 AM
September 22, 2006
Hello, forehead Friday!
Today we have Santa Anas in Los Angeles. Santa Ana winds are hot and dry and they blow all around the city and make us feel like we have real weather now and then. The excitement is disproportional to its real significance, but hey, we're the same people who forget how to drive when it rains. I think we get so excited by little atmospheric things like wind because we aren't privy to the tornadoes and hurricanes and violent thunderstorms that batter the rest of the country. We just sit here in a pile of our own pollution and expect every single day to be sunny and mid 70s. So when we get some strong winds we're just wacky, they even close freeways in the canyons. Los Angeles has wind! Film footage at eleven!
And aside from the whole little problem of "Oh yeah the whole city might burn to the ground" and "my eyes are red from the junk in the air" I do love the Santa Anas. Yesterday when I walked outside midday, the palm trees were rustling and it made me feel restless and happy all at the same time. Of course, that could have been because it was Tragic Laundry Thursday and I wasn't wearing pantyhose. Gives new meaning to "flapping in the breeze."
No reason for this picture, just wanted to say hi ya'll!
P.S. Um. Ok. The Blogads folks have been real good to me and keep sending advertisers my way and this is good and I love them! Love you Blogads peeps! But there is a new ad that is supposed to be up for a month and it is kind of about STDs. Ya'll, my webpage now has an STD. I am so sorry. But it's worth like, eighty dollars! I am such a ho ... and apparently a cheap one at that. But it's eighty dollars of pure love!
Pure love that, you know, kind of should wear a condom. I'm just suggesting is all.
Posted by laurie at 8:26 AM
September 10, 2006
Oooh, let's talk about the weather.
It's happy-happy shiny smiley land here in the Valley, because it's morning and it's a lovely Sunday and OH MY GOD IT IS NOT HOT. Seriously. It's all people have talked about. I was at the 7-11 this morning for coffee, and then the gas station and then the grocery because I am somewhat certifiably insane and get up at 4:45 a.m. on Sunday mornings and WAIT for things to open (well, of course the 7-11 is open, but it's too weird to arrive there before 6 a.m. unless you're on a beer run for a party that is going VERY well, know what I mean?) and HOLY CRAP is this turning into one long sentence, but suffice it to say every place I visited this morning people have remarked upon how AWESOME the weather is because we are not being baked in the scorching armpit of hell.
Hi ya'll! I had a lot of coffee!
And really, the weather is so beautiful this morning. I have ancient windows on my house that you crank open with this handle and I am so technologically challenged that anything with moving parts is game for breakage, it's kind of a gift, really, I mean I am SO TALENTED in this way, and yet even the window in the office cranked open today without complaint which probably means I should go buy a lottery ticket right now. Because I am feeling LUCKY, darlin.
And I do thank ya'll for the kind words and wishes for my family! If I win the lottery I'm so taking all ya'll out for ribs and beer. And, well, probably truth be told we'll have to stop by the 7-11, too. Ya'll know.
Posted by laurie at 9:12 AM
August 29, 2006
Sign holding is a vocational option.
There's a guy who stands on the corner of 7th and Flower Streets every day holding a sign that says something about Jesus. I'm fascinated with this man, not for his message but for his commitment to standing on the corner of 7th and Flower day after day. He's not obtrusive or obnoxious. He just stands there and holds up his sign. He wears dark blue pleated pants, a plaid shirt and a zippered windbreaker in navy blue canvas twill.
I wonder how he manages to get by, financially, since his devotion to sign-holding clearly precludes having any kind of day job. And unlike many of the people you see standing on street corners down here, the sign man isn't holding out a change cup or asking anyone for money. He just stands there holding a wooden stick that is about three feet tall with white posterboard attached to the top of the stick. The signs are hand-lettered in blue magic marker.
Today he wasn't there.
I wondered if he was sick, and if anyone else had noticed he wasn't manning his self-appointed post. I hoped he was just busy, or maybe trying out a new corner. Suddenly, I felt sad. His commitment to his chosen profession was oddly touching, and I didn't want him to have given up hope, given up on trying to accomplish his goals, given up on sign-holding.
Posted by laurie at 11:40 AM | Comments (0)
The far-reaching implications of a fire drill
The fire alarm went off in the office this afternoon. On the one hand, everyone was grousing about having to get up and tramp down seven flights of stairs on the one day it actually rained in Los Angeles. On the other hand, several people said, "Well, on 9/11 there were people who sat at their desks or went on working while the building was on fire."
It's weird, the way September 11th has these octopus arms stretching forward and onward and affecting even the smallest things.
Like how I stand in the hallway waiting for the elevator and I actually read the "In case of fire..." sign to find out where the emergency exits are.
Or how I still haven't flown in an airplane since that day, even though my dad keeps offering to send me a ticket and I keep pushing it off because secretly I'm just afraid to fly.
Or how every now and then I realize that my personal timeline has been divided into "before 9/11" and "after 9/11" because that's when everything just seemed to melt away and get really complicated.
And there's all the suicide bombings in Israel and I think if they come here and do that kind of thing that it won't make me sympathetic to any cause but my own. And it makes me tired because I want back my pre-9/11 life, before airplanes were living missiles, before the fear and threats and sadness, before my complexion went haywire.
Posted by laurie at 11:39 AM | Comments (0)
August 9, 2006
Better than watching paint dry. Just barely.
Do not ask me why on earth I thought these videos would be interesting to anyone, and also can I add that folks on the bus must have seen me do some mighty strange things in our time together because not one passenger batted an eye when I whipped out my camera and video captured the bus ... driving. In traffic. Really, when I told you it was boring I was kind of being generous in praise.
But this boringness is to offset the WHITE TRASH DRAMA MAGNET that is me, yours truly. Do you have time for the tee tiniest story before I show you the boringest videos?
Last night I went on a d-a-t-e and it was actually real nice, we had a nice time, he's got potential so ya'll don't ask me questions and jinx it because I will tell you nothing, nothing! Except that he opened doors for me and took me on a proper date so you know. It was nice. I came home pleased as pie.
So I am on the phone deconstructing said date and basking in ensuing nice happy warm feeling with one Jennifer, who I swear knows all my secrets and must never be allowed to fall into the hands of enemy bloggers. It would be bad. And we are chitchatting as we do (it sounds like this: Jen says, "And I can't believe how the Dyson really does pick up more than other vacuum cleaners, and I emptied the canister and now I realize why you vacuum so much..." and I say, "He's nice. Do you think I am too crazy and drive off nice men?" Jen: "You are not crazy, crazylady. Of course not. Then I vacuumed again, I think the level of clean is at an all-time high..." Me: "Thank God you finally bought a Dyson, oh I don't think he loves and adores cats. By the way, I kind of didn't let him on to the plural nature of the herd members..." Jen: "That's best for now." Unison: "Thank God for Dyson.")
And she and I are chitchatting in this manner, which is to say we have two different conversations happening at the same time, and then someone shuffles up to my front door AT MIDNIGHT. Drunker than a skunk. Smoking a Marlboro red with the ash about sixteen feet long. AT MIDNIGHT.
"Can you help me?" It's Julie, Crackhead Bob's girlfriend and cousin.
"Are you OK?" Me, and Jen is on the phone hearing it.
"Blur blurbuly slushher slur."
"Ah, Jen, can I call you right back?"
And of all the people in the nighborhood, I was the lucky one to be pulled into their vortex of crazy and I swear I do not know how I manged to get up this morning, seeing as I was up until two a.m. and we were thisclose to having to call the law. So, I will not go into long detail because really it is all sort of sad and unpleasant, but here is what I have discovered:
A: I always THINK I am crazy and eccentric and three and a half minutes from talking into my bra while directing traffic in my nightgown, but when you see real crazy it's kind of comforting. Because you realize that you, meaning me, maybe are a little off your rocker but hell. You are not standing at a stranger's door with your shorts half-unbuttoned and slurring into a can of Natural Light at midnight on a Tuesday.
B: Thank God.
C: And also maybe you realize that for all the California, wheatgrass, yoga, Starbucks and silicone of this city, THERE ARE REDNECKS EVERYWHERE. Next time someone wants to mock me for being a cracker, I plan to haul 'em over to Bob and Julie's house. COUSINS for chrissake. Makes me look practically genteel.
D: Friends like Jennifer are good to have in times of peril, and also of course in times of not-peril, but in this case we're in peril-ish, because she got on the horn and called 311 (the non-emergency 911) with something like, "Um, my friend? She had to go help this woman who was drunk and her boyfriend who is also her cousin set the house on fire once, have any 911 calls come in like that? From Encino? Because Laurie is not answering her cell!"
E: Isn't that the best friend EVER? I love you, Jen.
After this little story, you can see why the boringness of my early morning bus drive would appeal so to me. It may be the dullest damn thing on YouTube, but for that I am eternally grateful and even PROUD. It is not easy being a White Trash Drama Magnet. It does tax the strategic reserves.
Now for... TA DA!!! THE PROOF OF WHY TECHNOLOGY IS GOING TO HELL IN A HANDBASKET AND/OR BUS:
Morning drive on the 101 in Hollywood:
Morning drive past the Capitol Records building:
Morning drive past the Cathedral in downtown:
Posted by laurie at 11:10 AM
July 27, 2006
Less Than Zero (miles per hour)
Public service announcement?
My favorite opening line from any book, well maybe aside from the opening paragraph of Lolita, is the first sentence from the Bret Easton Ellis book Less Than Zero:
Today I had to drive to downtown because I'm working late, later than the bus schedule runs, and I was settled in for my morning commute listening to a CD (you know it's going to be a good morning when you got some Usher to sing you to work) and drinking my coffee and the weather was hot but not too bad yet, kind of humid. But Usher likes it humid.
And I'm passing Laurel Canyon so it's time to get into the right two lanes, the Hollywood split is coming, and I look into the middle lane and I see only cars with out-of-state plates moving into it: Wisconsin, Kentucky, Maryland and I feel a little bad for them because they don't realize why everyone is merging either to the far left (the 134) or abandoning ship to the far right (the 101) and leaving this middle lane empty except for a few stragglers and 18-wheelers.
Then they discover why all at once. That stretch of freeway is Merge Hell, wherein people who did not manage to merge prior to the split now block the lane, anxiously hoping to nose in, but no one will let them in because having waited this long they have lost the right to merge, and often it's big trucks who nobody will let in so they have to take over with sheer force of will, and this whole dance can go on for quite some time. And the tourists are mad, and hate Los Angeles and some of them honk, while the person in the passenger seat holds a map and throws up their hands in disgust and really, you do feel a little bad for them.
I know I write about traffic a lot and it's probably as exciting to ya'll as watching grass grow unless you are one of the five readers who lives here, too. We take a perverse pleasure in our traffic, as if we have survived something every single day, and it truly is a huge topic of conversation.
Example A:
When Drew was here visiting last year, we were hanging out (in the car, on the freeway of course) with Faith, discussing Party Conversation Anxiety that can come from meeting lots of strangers at once. Faith and I assured Drew that if he ever got cornered with some folks he didn't know at a party anywhere in Los Angeles, all he had to do was ask how their drive was.
"Really," I told him, "All you do is say, 'Oh, so where do you live?' And they'll say 'On the Westside' or 'The Marina' or 'Van Nuys' and then you just ask, 'Oh! How was your drive over here?"
Drew looked at me skeptically.
"No, seriously, it's true," said Faith. "Just ask what freeway they took, or street, and they'll tell you for the next twenty minutes all about their drive."
"Yup," I said. "And then other folks will chime in, about their traffic, and how long it took to get to the party and how their commute is in the mornings and so on. It's great fun."
And we all had a big laugh about this and it was forgotten. Until the next night when we had a Los Angeles-type party at my house, and Drew was chatting with a bunch of folks and he told them this new strategy he'd learned, and was asking their opinion about it, was it true that all parties in Los Angeles begin with people discussing their traffic?
And everyone laughed, and agreed we're nutty here, and it was funny, hah hah.
And then everyone started discussing their traffic.
"You know, speaking of traffic, what was going on in the canyon? It's all blocked off for about a mile and is that mudslide/house/boulder/debris still blocking the road?"
"Well, why didn't you just take the 101?"
"Oh God! Hollywood Bowl tonight!"
"Oh! I forgot about that. We just came up the 405 to the 101 and took surface streets from there..."
I do not lie, people. I do not lie.
And Drew was tickled pink, because we were actually exhibiting crazy right in front of him. Personally, I love the way you can elicit sighs of deep, existential pain from folks just by mentioning "rush hour on the 405." I also love how traffic is a great excuse for just about anything, including my personal life. Which leads me to ...
Example B:
I was having lunch earlier in the week with a coworker, a nice married lady in my office. She wanted to know whatever happened to the 25-year-old Jamaican cricket player I had gone out with once.
"Oh, we went out once or twice, but it didn't really work out."
"Why not?" she asked. She likes to live vicariously through my little foibles. It's interesting the way dating always sounds like SO MUCH FUN when you aren't the one doing it.
"Oh, you know, he was 25. He used the word party as a verb. Which was kind of cute, but ... eh."
"Oh come on!" she said, "he sounds fun!"
Now, I could have tried to sit there over lunch and explain to this stable, nice, happily married lady and mother of two why I wasn't terribly taken with him, how it was like dating my little brother, how he could talk about his X-box for HOURS and still lived at home with his parents, and did I mention still lived at home with his parents? She would have thought this was "cute!" and "fun!" and "you single people really live it up!"
So I told her the one thing I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt would get her off the subject:
"Well, mainly it's just too hard, you know, he lives all the way out in Bellflower."
"Oooooh," she said, sighing. "God, it would be like, what? five hours just to get to Encino? Well, too bad, though, he sounded like fun."
People, I rest my case.
Posted by laurie at 11:28 AM
July 25, 2006
Big bag of crazy bones
Perhaps its the heat.
Today is the 20th straight day of 100-degree-plus heat in the Valley, and I woke my sorry self up at 4 a.m. to do laundry because although it was EIGHTY FREAKING DEGREES at 4 a.m., it was still a marked improvement over the 104 degrees at 9:30 p.m. last night, which was when I gave up on laundry once and for all again because of the heat and decided if I ever wanted to have clean clothes I would have to A) do laundry at 4 a.m. or B) go shopping. And ya'll, it is a sad day when it is too hot to SHOP.
So this morning, I pulled myself out from the air-conditioned house and did laundry (the washer and dryer are in the garage. The hot garage.) and now I have clean clothes but need more caffeine, and also maybe a little something for the tension, you know what tension I mean, the kind where you yourself may be holding it all together JUST FINE THANKYOU but the people around you are wrapped up tight and ready to explode, you see it in their eyes in long meetings or when you ask them for a copy of the brochure that so-and-so approved, and they look at you with crazy eyes and want to eat your head.
So I maybe need some relief from the tension, like with a couple of olives in it.
Which begs the question, what the heck happened to the three-martini lunch? Why did those go away? And why did our parents get to go out and have wild liberated sex with no diseases and get to drink martinis at lunch time and smoke wherever they wanted and ALL WE GET TO DO NOW IS MAKE SILLY WEBSITES COMPLAINING ABOUT THE LACK OF MARTINIS.
It must be the heat.
Posted by laurie at 11:31 AM
July 19, 2006
Scientific Theory # 371: Heat and its relationship to bleeping traffic
i. IT'S NOT DRY HEAT
When the humidity is 56%, ya'll lose the right to tell me and the rest of Meltangeles that "Oh, it's not as bad in L.A. as it is here in The Other Armpit Of Hell, USA, 'cause it's a dry heat!" A hunnerd degrees and 56% humidity is not dry in this armpit. No sir.
ii. Ok, maybe it is smoggy after all
This is a case of "I can talk bad about my mama but you can't talk bad about her..." because now you're hearing people complain about the stickiness of this air, combined with its radioactive qualities, and it's brownness. We're practically chewing the air. Wonder if it has calories?
iii. Which brings us to the weather and driving hypothesis
That perhaps, with the insane heat and bizarre weather (read: humidity) and brown air and general hair-trigger irritability of the city, our driving skills have reached a new low only rivaled by the following Major Traffic Events: Daylight Savings Time (people forget how to drive in the dark), Rain (people forget how to drive when water falls from the sky), Halloween (people forget how to drive when they smell carbs in the air) and Valentine's Day (see: carbs in the air, plus possible sex and/or sexual frustration).
iv. Solutions for lessening road rage
While just about everyone in this smelly city would benefit from staying indoors and lying beneath the ceiling fan half naked with a cold beer and several episodes of Northern Exposure on the Tivo, one cannot refute the scientific laws of "Must Go To Work So I Don't Live In A Storage Shed." Therefore, if ya'll have to venture out, please for the love of all that is holy stay off the 101 ('cause that's my road, that is how I roll.)
If this is not possible, move post-haste to Section V.
v. The Courtesy Wave
I have given up any chance of bringing back the side ponytail, and have now moved on to reviving The Courtesy Wave. What is the courtesy wave, you ask? It's a small sign of acknowledgement -- that slight wave of the hand -- which tells the kind driver who allowed you to merge or switch lanes or pull out in front of them, that you really, really appreciate their kindness in a Blanche DuBois way.
The courtesy wave is not to be confused with the more common driving hand signals involving the middle finger. It stands alone as one of the single most powerful elements of driving sign language, because it's pretty much the only nice gesture left in driving.
So please, ya'll, my brethren in the brown air and WHY DOES THIS CITY SMELL LIKE AN OUTDOOR CATBOX? WHY?, please begin using the courtesy wave. It assures the driver who made a road sacrifice for you that he or she has been acknowledged, which in turn makes that driver more likely to let someone else merge in, and that someone might just be me. So, as you can clearly see, the courtesy wave is one thing we can all do to stick together in this traffic-infested world. That, and lie under the fan half-nekkid with a beer, but as I am at work I can't implement this strategy as it could be poor for my career advancement as clearly detailed in Section iv.
Science, people. It's all in the science.
Posted by laurie at 10:17 AM
July 15, 2006
Perspiration is the key to success.
There's Johnny Mountain!
I plan to stay indoors and drink iced tea until it's a proper hour to switch to an adult beverage and ... will someone remind me why I love the valley? Anyone?
Posted by laurie at 10:47 AM
July 7, 2006
Por amarte así
In a city of eleventy million people it's easy to be anonymous. It is, in fact, one of the main draws of The Big City: you can leave behind the small town you grew up in ("population 200, including cows and chickens...") and live here with neighbors you never see or talk to, glide through the grocery store without having to chitchat with the person you sat next to in 4th grade and later dated his brother who went on to play ball at Auburn and then got a knee injury, and oh have you heard from the so-and-so boy lately?
You can be anonymous, can wear your oversized sunglasses and pretend to be a washed-up child star or a Very Important Businessman but I came here and somehow small-townified my life (you can take the girl out of the south, but not the south out of the girl... it's stuck to her permanently through all the fried foods of her youth) and I moved to a neighborhood where my neighbors are kissing cousins, literally, and I know the names and backstories of almost everyone I see regularly which of course includes the entire staff of both 7-11s in my sphere of influence.
(At the BBQ I hosted a few weeks ago, Karman was going to make a 7-11 run and was taking orders. "Amber," I said, "you want anything from the 7-11?" She laughed, "What would a party at your house be without a late-night trip to 7-11?")
This morning, I got in my Jeep and stopped at my "morning" 7-11 (Oh, ya'll, the more I change the more I stay the same, and so I still do a fair amount of my shopping at the corner convenience store, I cannot help myself.) Rajit, the friendly owner, greeted me with more enthusiasm than usual. The man was practically jumping up and down.
"OH! Misslaurie, I do not have your phone number but to call because we have very exciting news, flavor flavor!"
Obviously, I had not had my coffee yet, so who knows what I was hearing or he was saying, and I looked closely at the coffee pots to determine which new flavor flavor I was supposed to sample.
"Cinnamon...?" I asked, hoping I was right.
"Yes, very good, cinnamon is fresh but we have flavor flavor in here! Just last night! I show you!"
And he produced a strip of receipt paper, signed by one Flava Flav, proof positive of a star sighting in my very own 7-11, very exciting. And I left with my coffee and got in my Jeep and headed East into downtown (or "South" because sometimes the 101 signs say East, and sometimes they say "South" but you're all the same stuck in morning traffic and heading "over the hill.") The hills in question were barely visible in the morning amber air, bright and soft yet no matter how poetic you phrase it, still decidedly brownish. "It's not smog," just ask any Angeleno. They (we) are very defensive when asked. "It's not smog, it's haze."
In front of me is a guy in a battered Toyota truck with a bumper sticker that says, "Soy Chapin y que?" To my left is a Channel 7 news van, off to some exciting story or another and advertising the Doppler radar that never, ever shows smog, to my right a guy with an expensive haircut in a gorgeous black mercedes convertible (top down, but all the windows rolled up) talking on a cell phone, gesturing between takes of Starbucks.
And so it occurred to me that this is a very optimistic city, maybe the most optimistic city on earth. You can come here and make all your dreams come true. You can write a screenplay or work at 7-11 until you finally own three franchises of your own and send your daughter (age 18, very pretty with glossy black hair from the pictures he showed me) to USC to study engineering, or you can work at a high-powered law firm with glass hallways, or mow lawns for more money in one month than you might make in six months back home, or drive a Jeep into downtown with a sappy Spanish love song (Christian Castro) playing loudly enough for everyone to hear, but nobody pays you any attention because you could be anyone, anyone at all, and even Flava Flav shops where you shop.
And it's not smog, you know. It really is haze. It'll burn off later this afternoon.
Posted by laurie at 9:08 AM
June 19, 2006
Operation Gratitude
On Sunday, Father's Day, I drove over to the National Guard Armory in Van Nuys to see for myself how one lady with a goal and a little determination can make a whole lot of good come about in this world. And of course, the very fact that she's from the Valley -- Encino! -- didn't hurt any.
Carolyn Blashek, founder of Operation Gratitude (and Valley Girl!!)
Carolyn Blashek is a fiftysomething mother of two from Encino (unlike me, one can assume she is not merely Encino-adjacent) and she created the nonprofit, all-volunteer movement called "Operation Gratitude." This past Sunday I saw with my very own eyes how one tiny woman with a personal mission could move mountains ... mountains of boxes!
Folks from all over come together to donate their time and money to build individual care packages for soldiers serving overseas. No matter what your politics are, the beauty of Operation Gratitude is that this is the sort of cause everyone can support. Those kids out in the desert are from my hometown and yours, and every morning they get up and wear some totally unflattering shade of camo and do a job a million miles away from home. A box with some girl scout cookies and a beanie baby and some snacks, magazines and DVDs could make someone's day, month, year. It's the very best of us, this desire to give to a complete stranger, the need to let someone know they aren't all alone in a desert while we go on about our day-to-day lives in relative safety and calm. This is the thing I love about people, the generosity of spirit that sometimes just needs an outlet. Carolyn created an outlet for giving right in her own living room, and now it's grown to take over the Armory!
Volunteers build a mountain of boxes waiting to be filled for soldiers overseas.
I got to meet Carolyn and ask her about the organization and her inspiration for Operation Gratitude. "Right after 9-11 happened," she said, "I wanted to join the military. I tried, but I was too old. So I started volunteering, and before long I met a soldier who was heading back into the war zone. His mother had just passed away, his wife had left him and his only child had died. He told me, 'I'm going back over there, I probably won't make it back. But it doesn't matter, because I don't have anyone anyway. There's no one.' "
And that was it. That was the moment she decided to make a difference, to let a soldier know that there are folks back home who care, and Operation Gratitude was born. That was over three years ago, and this past weekend, the group sealed up the 150,000th box! I was completely overwhelmed by what I saw, folks in every age range filling and stuffing and sealing and packing boxes.
[click for bigger images]
For the winter drive that starts in a few months, we'll have to figure out what we can collectively knit for the care packages. I know the power of knitters, ya'll ... we could have more handknit goods in Iraq than anywhere on earth if we put our minds (and Addis) to it. In the meantime, if you'd like to help, visit their website for a list of ways individuals can contribute.
Posted by laurie at 11:01 AM
June 7, 2006
Hot town, summer in the city ...
This candle is an apt representation of how I felt all weekend, melting and finally falling over into a puddle on the patio.
I never cease to get a little thrill every time I see this sign. It's close to the four-level in downtown, where all the giant freeways converge and there is much merging and weaving in and out of lanes and carrying on.
In the summer, Los Angeles is filled with tourists, and since Jennifer lives in Hollywood very near some of the key tourist spots, I'll see tourists crossing Hollywood Boulevard every time I drive to her house. They carry their cameras and wear shorts and look at the people in the cars (Hollywood and Highland is a traffic nightmare, you can easily spend a day and a half at a red light as the world walks by at a faster pace than the cars.) Occassionally they get to see a real bonafide Hollyweird freak with a case of full-blown crazy, and you know the teenagers get a thrill and the parents think, "California!"
I imagine what they're thinking as they look into the cars at the stop lights, because I used to be a tourist here, too, and I fell in love with this city the first time I came here. I looked at the folks in cars and imagined myself right there, one of them, pictured myself living in this place. Tried it on for size in my mind, wondered if I could ever be one of those impossibly busy and rushed city folks who honk at green lights and talk on a cellphone. The whole city seemed so huge and fast and choked and impossibly glamorous.
And now I live here, and I'm still a tourist deep down inside (Jen and I were at Target in Sherman Oaks on Sunday and we saw Jenny Garth and her husband both wearing sunglasses indoors, I never quite get over the fact that I can be shopping for cat food and paper towels at Target and bump into KELLY FREAKING TAYLOR, especially because remember when she totally made out with Dylan while Brenda was in France, and we were like... How could she?? But sort of like... FINALLY! Because Brenda? SO not good enough for Dylan. But also weird that she ended up with Brandon, as that is one step removed from eeewwww, having totally DONE IT with Dylan after Brenda did. Oh, Kelly!)
The thrill of living in this town just sneaks up on you, even when it's a million degrees outside and traffic sucks and the city smells like an outdoor catbox and I'm greeted at the top of the subway entrance by a woman naked from the waist down (have you ever noticed that people who show up partially naked in public are almost always the people who should be wearing a lot of clothing?) And even though it's true that sometimes living in Los Angeles makes you want to curl up in the fetal position and cry, it's still the only place in the world where you can run into Kelly Taylor at Target, then go home and watch your patio candles melt while your neighbors have a pool party and play the soundtrack to Evita and then bust open a pinata.
I heart you, Los Angeles.
Posted by laurie at 10:12 AM
June 5, 2006
Attack of the summer freckles!
Hi! It was eleventeen thousand degrees in the Valley this weekend and all growing things are dead, except the ants, because the valley is really just the depression in the mound of Southern California's ant farm underpinnings. Forget tectonic plates, we ride on the backs of a bazillion little black ants. Earthquakes probably come from territory disputes in the ant colony.
You can also tell it’s summer because now showing on cheekbones near you, it’s THE ATTACK OF THE SUMMER FRECKLES! starring yours truly. The evil villian Skin J. Cancer stalks her every summer, and every year our heroine breaks out the SPF 35 only to be foiled once again by the diminishing ozone layer and the reflective properties of smog.
Many summers ago back when I could still utter the words "bathing suit" without breaking out into hives, I let a girlfriend talk me into buying one of those Tan-Thru swimsuits that are supposedly engineered so that solar rays can pass through and tan your whitest, pastiest parts without you having to run buck naked down Zuma beach. The swimsuit was a one-piece multicolored monstrosity that had an odd lace texture to it. It was also obscenely transparent when wet, so I simply avoided the water on my first Tan-Thru day at the beach. I got what might be the worst sunburn of my life in that swimsuit. The fabric was indeed Tan-Thru -- I had the lacy pattern etched in sunburn on my behind for weeks.
Times have changed, though, I'm now a thoroughly glow-in-the-dark sunless mole. I do sometimes get basted like a Thanksgiving Turkey at those spray-tan places, and I walk out feeling like a golden goddess for about a day and a half, then it starts rubbing off. Sexy! Epecially when it's hot like this, there is the sweat factor. And ya'll, MY FACE SWEATS. Seriously. It's gross, and also terribly unladylike and it's best if I just do not continue talking about it.
And what do you knit when it's this hot? Really? I have not been knitting long enough to know how it goes, this switch from cozy winter knitting by the light of a gentle cabernet to I CAN'T TOUCH FABRIC I AM SWEATING.
Please. Tell me how you do it.
And now that it's summer, people are all out and about and feeling sporty and healthy and so on, and while I am seriously pondering what to knit in a darkened air-conditioned room while bonding with TV, there are folks out there who need to experience nature and actually go out in it. Personally, I get plenty of nature in my back yard plus it's close enough to the fridge so that when the beer gets tepid I can refresh accordingly. Also, let us not forget that nature does not so much love me and is maybe trying to kill me.
Yet! Even though I am the epitome of sloth, I have a friend who is threatening to take me hiking. OUTDOORS. There are many issues here:
A: I have no shoes suitable for hiking.
B: My idea of taking a hike is the walk from the parking lot to the Beverly Center.
C: I like the idea of sportiness, but I’m rather vague on the details. For example, I hate to sweat. Perspire. Ya'll, why we can put a man on the moon but we cannot eliminate perspiration? Sweating is fine in the gym and in other certain indoor activities, but aside from that I’m wholly against it.
D: Don't forget who we're talking about here. My only fitness goal is that my ass stays smaller than my chair. I'm no one's role model.
I must find a way to get out of this whole hiking business. Please, help me. Tell me what to knit in the summertime. Everyone knows you can't knit and hike at the same time, and since knitting came first, it takes precedence over walking uphill both ways on some dirt path with a bunch of flies and worrying about my freckle/face sweat problem. Really people! I do have my priorities!
Mondays. And also, Tuesday-Sunday. Love L.A.!
The backyard dried to a crisp, and then Francisco finally came to fix the sprinklers, but he took everything apart, and kind of... had more parts left over when he was done fixing it. Perhaps he is building a rocket ship. I do not know.
Posted by laurie at 12:28 PM
June 2, 2006
Does Prada do a cement overcoat? What about just a cement Juicy Couture tracksuit?
I love the San Fernando Valley. Even though right now as you read this, the potted tomato plant that I forgot to water this morning is being baked and scorched into a small pile of expensive hay, I do still love my Valley. It's been so hot that fire season will probably start this afternoon at 2 p.m., but I have a moat in my backyard so I'm cool. Also, don't ya'll think it is rather crazy and also DRAMA QUEENY to live in a place where there is a "fire season"? There's also "mudslide season" and "earthquake weather" (I have no idea, either) and "Oh my God, what is that weird wet stuff on my car? Did I park in front of sprinklers? I just got my car washed! Oh, holy crap, I think it's rain!"
But if it weren't enough that the valley is overrun by thousand-degree temperatures and spontaneous wildfires and cholos and bad drivers and soccer moms, we now apparently have a "MOB BASE IN THE VALLEY." So says some article I read on the bus this morning.
But ... the mob? Luca Brasi Swims With The Fishes? Kiss my ring, don't insult me on the day my daughter is married, pass the spaghetti? Welcome to the Valley?
Why is it that my beloved valley has to be the seat of all that is seedy and unholy in this world? Not only are we the porn capital and the carjacking capital and the bank robbery capital of the world, but hey, add to the list "Carpooling mafia crime ringleaders from Sherman Oaks" capital of the world. I'd prefer, perhaps, an influx of hot Portuguese soccer stars. Or maybe we could be known as The Valley of Southern Expatriates. Remember when it was cool in the '80s to go to Prague and be all freedom-y and Euro? Can't we make the Valley like that? We do not so much love our role as Los Angeles' redheaded stepchild.
And why select the Valley to set up a mafia base? Didn't they, like, see Nicholas Cage and Deborah Foreman in "Valley Girl" and, like, gag me with a spoon, we're all the complete opposite of ya know, dark and intense and heavy sauces and all? I mean, we don't even eat pasta in the Valley, it just has way too many carbs. Totally.
Bu I figure our new mafia neighbors should be easy enough to spot. For one thing, they won't have a tan. And real-life gangsters never look like Ray Liotta did in "Goodfellas." I have yet to see a Jimmy The Fish or a Mikey The Bird who even vaguely resemble the supremely hunkalicious Liotta. If they're going to succeed on L.A.'s Valley turf, especially in the porn capital of the world, these people will have to cut down on the cannoli.
The made-for-TV-movie version of mob life in Los Angeles practically writes itself. Most of the main scenes will be filmed on the freeway, because the real impediment to knocking off your enemies is, of course, traffic. Those sig alerts are murder. There will be a whole murky subplot about the lack of parking at Trader Joe's. The final operatic crescendo of mob warfare will take place at The Galleria and the ringleader of the whole organization will be a bikini waxer at Pink Cheeks on the boulevard. It could be called "Godfather Gets Liposuction." Or maybe "Godfather Goes Shopping" (I could be the technical advisor on that one). And after the premiere, the party will be held at Sportsmen's Lodge. Catering provided by Art's Deli, or maybe Jerry's Deli.
Ya'll really. I do amuse myself. It's hot and it's summer and I'm working on about three hours of sleep here, and I know this made no sense whatsoever, but I am still cracking myself up thinking about some gangsters working on their Valley tans and having to skip the cannoli. Forgeddabouddit. For sure!
Posted by laurie at 9:31 AM
April 30, 2006
Veterinary Medical And Surgical Group
If you live anywhere within driving distance of Ventura, California, and you need the services of a veterinary specialist (well, I hope you don't, let me tell you that, BUT if you do...) drive straight to Veterinary Medical And Surgical Group. The level of service and care both Roy and I have gotten from these folks is top-notch.
You get a more thorough consultation here than you do with a people-doctor specialist. After our visit, they sent me and Roy home with three typed up pages -- a full summary of the exam, the next possible steps, interim care, etc. And Dr. Ortega began the summary with, "Dear Laurie, Thank you for bringing Roy to see us, he is a very handsome cat!"
Well. Now we're talking. Obviously these folks know their stuff!
And they also sent us home with a bag of medication in a cold pack for the car, seeing as we were driving back to Los Angeles in Friday rush hour traffic. A cold pack, ya'll. I've never been so pleased with the level of care and detail shown to my animal -- and just yesterday I got a follow up call from them, checking in on Roy and his situation. They didn't just have a receptionist call me -- one of the doctors called, and chatted with me for a good 20 minutes. These folks are on top of their game, and if you do need specialized treatment, Roy and I highly recommend them.
Veterinary Medical And Surgical Group
2199 Sperry Avenue
Ventura, CA 93003
805-339-2290
www.vmsg.com
Posted by laurie at 6:16 AM
April 28, 2006
One flux capacitor, STAT!
Yeah yeah I know you live in Europe where gas is $758.00 a gallon. But, see, you have a little thing called "reliable mass transit." My bus? NEVER SHOWED UP today. Love you, Los Angeles!
I love reading people's cars. When I see a bumper sticker, I wonder, "What made them decide right then right there to put a sticker on their multi-thousand dollar purchase? Do they worry about getting keyed by people who don't like the message? Do they themselves still like the message?" Ya'll know. I can go on and on and on about such a thing, especially on a Friday morning in bumper-to-bumper commute traffic.
Notice how clear and crisp the image is. Because we are at a
complete standstill. On the freeway. Burn, gasoline, burn!
Kind of made me heart this driver.
Best of all! Dude got his car at PRAY Automobiles! That's SO
where I'm buying my next brokedown heap! I mean... Jeep!
While driving, I amuse myself by listening to AM talk radio and checking out other motorists. Since it takes me a solid hour (or two!) to get to work, I can hear about thirty different traffic reports in the morning. Traffic reports are an art form in Los Angeles, they have to be amusing because they are enormously long. On KBIG 104, they even insert ads in the middle of the traffic reports, which is kind of brilliant in a capitalist pig way, because you're not going to switch off in the middle of a traffic report!
When I'm stuck in bumper-to-bumper (and when I'm not photographing other motorists' bumpers) (Hi ya'll! don't mind me!) I want to know who the Einstein is that caused the backup and where they were during their driver's license exam. On particularly bad days, I need to see something on fire to justify the traffic. I want to blame someone and make them call my boss and explain that I was late to work because they weren't paying attention to the road and they caused an accident.
In fact, I think I might have an underdeveloped talent for broadcasting, and someone should let me give a radio traffic report, at least once...
My version:
"Some dumbaii on the 405 was talking on his cellphone and hit the car in front of him. Traffic is backed up for six miles through the Pass and I suggest you honk and flip off the guy who created this mess as you drive by. Also, I will have an intern from the radio station out at the crash site handing out 'Hang Up And Drive' bumper stickers... be sure to slap one on the offending vehicle!"
"The 605 is a complete disaster. If you're stuck there you can thank an overloaded big-rig that collided with an out-of-towner in a '67 El Dorado. Frankly, you were screwed either way you went about it. If you're trapped in the seventeen-mile backup, give me a call and let's see if we can hook ya'll up with some love connections! If you got unlucky in traffic, maybe you can get lucky tonight!"
"The two left lanes are taken out on the Golden State Freeway because a dipstick with the license plate '1HOT-ONE' tried to make a U-turn on the effing freeway. Luckily, his car caught on fire, so he finally can live up to that vanity plate."
"Do not take the 101 between Hollywood and Echo Park. Just forget it. Nobody's going anywhere and you might as well get a latte and take surface streets. We're looking for someone to blame, but it appears the road has turned into a great big black hole of automobiles... you get on, but you never get off. We'll have Intern Sally out on the Starbucks off Vermont giving out screenwiting tips so you can finally finish that screenplay of yours on the 101 between Vermont and Alvarado... you'll have plenty of time!"
"Two nosepickers were spotted on the Westbound 10, and someone is taking a leak near the 405/101 interchange. This traffic report was brought to you by your Crazy Aunt Purl ... "
I believe I have just stumbled on to a new talent.
Posted by laurie at 9:44 AM
April 11, 2006
Rally in the Valley
I have no idea if this will work. It's supposed to be a video I shot while in my car last night on Van Nuys boulevard. While driving. This file is like 7000MB big. If you want to take pity on me and make this smaller and better and so on, please do. I have techmology issues. If this is crashing everyone's computers, one of ya'll email me? Please? Also, aren't columns that begin with a whole paragraph of disclaimer text SO MUCH FUN? Also, notice I am driving while shooting video while a giant protest happens at night in Panorama City. Who wants to ride around with me? Anyone? Bueller?
There were hundreds of people just marching 20-deep down the middle of Van Nuys Boulevard last night. It was crazy. I couldn't tell if people were in a frenzy from the subject matter, or because of their proximity to In-n-Out. Tough call!
Posted by laurie at 9:53 AM
April 7, 2006
Springtime in Los Angeles
Highbrow restin' spot
So if you ever come to Los Angeles and you want to feel really smart and kind of worldly ("Mark Taper Forum sounds vaguely Emmy-like...") and also if you get lost and need directions, or even if you just live in this city and want to get your crazy on in the self-help aisle but you're too cheap to buy an actual self-help book since you secretly suspect it will help NOTHING, anyway! If this is the case, I suggest you go to the downtown Los Angeles Public Library on 5th and Flower. It's very pretty except for the homeless people sleeping in the chairs.
(click each image for a bigger picture)
The ouside hidden entrance; the beautiful atrium.
Top of the atrium, the view looking down the many levels of learnin'.
I got my crazy on in the audio self-help section, and left the library with a piece of what is surely TOTAL FICTION called "You Can Be Happy No Matter What." I checked it out purely because I felt a challenge coming on. "Oh yeah, year Mr. Fancypants New Age Writer? You think people can be happy no matter what? I'll show you! You don't know from Raging Premenstrual Hormones! There are times I'd KILL to be happy! KILL!"
Yes. I checked out an audio self-help book so that I could argue with it. I do have my own set of challenges.
Sure thing, bucko.
Nobody Walks In L.A.
Summer vacation season is almost upon us, and if ya'll come to Los Angeles and you want to see a whole bunch of stuff, please try to rent a hybrid car or maybe a hovercraft, or show up with a sugar daddy of hitherto unknown monetary proportions. (Also, why is it that only skinny chicks are trophy wives? Aren't there rich old dudes out there just dying to have a nice chubby girl on the arm? Where is the chubby trophy love?) (Oh calm down, ya'll, I would never marry for money. Probably.) Anyway, I tell you this because I care. At some point in the past few weeks, or maybe in the past few days as I am not that observant, really, the price of gas has gone from "Oh, that sucks.." to "Holy crap, can you at least buy me dinner before you try to bleep me?"
Gas has actually gone UP since I took this picture a day or so ago. Thank Goodness I take mass transportation or me and the cats would be living in the storage shed.
Also, each time I get in the Jeep, I see my monkey. My monkey. Heh.
Shop 'til you drop, or until you need Purell so badly you can no longer shop and must immediately de-germ.
If you come to Los Angeles and you want to go shopping and you are maybe poor or a cheapskate like some people we know, that means me, then you should totally go to Santee Alley and peruse the not-even-somewhat-authentic goods for sale in the warren of open-air shops and stalls between Olympic and 9th on Santee.
Piracy and knockofferdom go on wildly all over the Alley. The Downtown News ran a story last week about the Alley in which it reported that the Motion Picture Association of America had recently spent close to $200,000 installing closed-circuit cameras in the Alley to deter movie pirating. And, uh, it totally worked:
click for big images.
I admit, I used to buy handbag fakes in the Alley, last year everyone was carrying around a Louis Vuitton log bag, and they were all fakes, so it was just for fun. Then I read one of those anti-piracy articles, a sad article with sad photos which informed me that with my knockoff purchase I had personally enslaved a tiny, adorable child worker in my pursuit of vanity and frivolity and my fake handbag was a symbol of greater greed and hypocrisy and I was probably spreading smallpox and also hatred, etc.
So I was well and very shamed, having enslaved a child worker and also spread hypocrisy and maybe smallpox, and I no longer carry my faux LV or buy knockoffs. But I do like to peruse the Alley from time to time for cheap, funky jewelry and sunglasses. I didn't buy anything on this trip because of The Budget, but I fully enjoyed the sunshine and the feeling that I had stepped into some foreign open-air market, it never feels like Los Angeles at all.