Ordinary Extraordinary

We're Even

The comment that made my Carpool Buddy snort coffee, uttered during an alternate merge when the female driver of a white Escalade tried to gun her engine and close a gap thereby depriving my of my rightful place in front of her:

How about you try not being a douchebag? 'Cause I will happily run your ass into the shoulder. Eat guardrail, bitch.

I'm such a delicate flower.

Later, as we're driving past a large Jewish temple where one service is clearly letting out and another is about to begin, he pipes up:

Wow, it's like the changing of the Jews or something!

Good thing I was driving rather than drinking. We're even now.

Bob Knows Best

I totally have a new favorite local band, and its name is Bob Knows Best. From the website:

The band’s original songs have earned them comparisons to Weird Al Yankovic, They Might Be Giants, Barenaked Ladies, Tenacious D, and Flight of the Conchords. . . The Mission of Bob Knows Best, or BKB for short, is to expose the band's listeners to a selection of songs to quench their diverse musical thirst and put a smile on their faces at the same time. BKB can take you to the funk of the 70’s, the vaudevillian sounds of 1910, the country flavor of yesteryear and then back to the rock sounds of today.

Shy Guy and I went to see them on Friday night and we had an absolute blast. Not only are the band members extremely talented musicians, but the songs are catchy and funny as hell they put on a great show. I highly suggest that you click on over to their MySpace page and listen to a few tracks; you'll be glad you did.

Sweet Ride

The LD and I have been tossing around the idea of carpooling for some time now. We live less than a mile apart and generally work the same hours, but for some reason we haven't quite made the leap to ride-sharing yet.

Today, when prices crossed the $4/gallon mark at our local gas station, I got this email from him:

Gas is expensive. Really expensive. It would be cheaper to fill my car with Voss Water. Are you interested in carpooling? I own an irresistable '99 Mustang. Sweet ride.

Have I mentioned lately how glad I am that I bought an SUV right before gas prices started to spiral out of control? Yeah. Great choice. My response:

Yes! Can't wait to go for a spin in that "sweet ride."

So, as of Monday morning, I'll be carpooling a few days a week. Hopefully now I'll be able to afford to eat again.

Inspiration

One of the things that I love about Los Angeles is that it is I am constantly surrounded by creative energy.

When I moved to Los Angeles to attend USC, I didn't expect to like it. I thought that I would go to college, rack up a few memorable experiences, and then hightail it back to the East coast as soon as humanly possible. That's not exactly what happened, though. Instead, I fell in love with the pulse of the city and I'm still here more than twelve years later. Los Angeles is very different from my familiar New York, but she breathes too.   

The bitter and the jaded will tell you that this city is a soul-sucking pit of despair that will kill your Muse and suck her dry of every last ounce of inspiration, but I disagree. Los Angeles is one of those cities to which people are drawn when they have big dreams of doing big things. She doesn't give up her treasures easily and those without the heart for the battle certainly do return home empty and defeated, but those who remain infuse the city with a persistent creative vibrancy.

There is a long-running joke about Los Angeles that everyone here as a "day job" and a "passion job." I know I do, and so does almost every single person I know. What do you do? Is always an entertaining getting-to-know-you question because the answer generally goes Well I do xxx to pay the bills, but I'm really working towards doing xxx. It takes a lot of energy to earn money doing one thing while pursuing another; only passion can keep someone waiting tables during the day and rehearsing / writing / performing / auditioning at night. That passion permeates the city.

I had dinner with some friends on Tuesday night and, over delicious s'mores at Luna Park, we started trading updates about all of our personal projects. We were all so enthusiastic that we were talking over one another, bouncing ideas around the table, feeling our projects grow from the rush of creative fervor. We were so absorbed in our conversation that eventually we abandoned our corner booth for a table at Starbucks where we continued to talk almost until closing. When I got home, I stayed up far too late jotting down notes from everything that had been brought to life over our simple dinner.

On the days when I am beaten down, thirsting for words while my Muse is sullen and silent, I need to remember that in this city, inspiration flows all around me; I need only reach my hand out into its cool current and drink my fill.

Paying it Forward

BootieLA was absolutely off the hook on Saturday. In spite of the fact that it was the first Saturday in January (typically a slow date for bars & clubs) and it was absolutely pouring rain, The Echo reached capacity just before 11:30pm. I have never seen the dancefloor as packed as it was that night. Unfortunately, since The Echo didn't anticipate a capacity crowd, they only staffed two bartenders.

Two bartenders (and one overworked barback) for several hundred sweaty, thirsty people.

Eastside crowds are notoriously laid back and the Bootie crowd even more so, so most people took it in stride. It was very clear that the bartenders were doing their level best to keep up with demand, so we fought our way valiantly to the front and then made friends with the people around us while we waited for our turn to order.

But there's always an asshole, isn't there?

The guy next to me, heretofore known as Asshat Extraordinaire, made a big show of drumming his fingers, rolling his eyes, and sighing dramatically until he ordered. He then proceeded to order 5 Irish Car Bombs, 4 girly shots of some sort, and 3 draft beers. The bartender absolutely goggled at the credit card slip after Asshat Extraordinaire had paid for his drinks and held it up while asking Are you serious?

Asshat hadn't tipped at all on 12 drinks. His rationale? I had to wait, like, forever man - I'm not tipping you shit. Pour faster next time. WTF douchebag, do you not see the two bartenders running their asses off? Do you not see that the bar is 6-deep with people waiting for drinks? Do you not see the rest of us waiting patiently and chatting amongst ourselves? The Leo in me just couldn't keep quiet.

Me: Dude, that's pretty low. Do you not see how hard these guys are working?
AE: Shut the fuck up. I'm not tipping when I had to wait forever for a few measly drinks.
Me: Seriously man, it's not his fault that the bar is understaffed. They're doing the best they can.
He: Well aren't you just a loudmouth fat fucking bitch?
Me: Fuck you, douchebag.
Bartender: Dude, don't come back to me. Ever. I'm not pouring for you again.

Asshat Extraordinaire opened his mouth to say something else, but I think the murderous look on my face, and on the face of the bartender, made him change his mind. Wise move on his part. Since I couldn't kick the Asshat's teeth in (well I could, I just didn't), I chose instead to add $10 to the tip that I left the beleaguered bartender.

In relaying this story to Keith later in the night, he asked me why I'd tipped for the Asshat's drinks. I didn't have a good answer other than that it seemed like the right thing to do. It's not the bartender's fault that one of his customers was a total douchebag. Ten extra dollars isn't much of a sacrifice on my part, but I could tell that it meant a lot to the bartender. So... why not?

Maybe it's my indomitable sense of fair play, maybe it's my hyper-sensitive injustice meter, but when I see something like that and I have the ability to make some reparation, I do. I don't do it to be a "better" person, Lord knows I won't be up for sainthood anytime soon since I'm equally as likely to get up in someone's face, I do it because instinctively it feels like the right thing to do.

It's funny, I was having a similar conversation at a party recently - one of the people to whom I was talking was shocked to learn that I've been known to pay for a stranger's coffee at Starbucks for no reason other than that the thought to do so struck me at the time.

Have you guys seen this Liberty Mutual commercial (or its sequel)? I absolutely believe that's the way the world works and I strive to do my part. Maybe someone at the bar saw my reaction and in turn tipped a little more generously, or treated someone a little better. Maybe it's like a butterfly effect and marvelous things will grow out of a single, small act.

Or maybe not. It doesn't matter, really, because those potential effects are not the point at all.

As a whole, I believe that humanity is basically good. I evaluate people on a case by case basis because I don't think that all individuals are inherently good, and I think that pack mentality easily overpowers an individual's instinct to behave reasonably, but overall I think that humans are  a decent sort. I am, therefore, a big fan of paying it forward.

I believe in karma. I believe that eventually, the Universe returns to you what you send out into the aether. I believe that the only way to instigate change is by example. And I would like to believe that by doing my part to help others, help will be there for me when I need it. I haven't thought long and hard about these things, I haven't felt the need to, to me they're just... True.

So I'll keep doing these little things, and people will keep looking at me quizzically when I can't explain why, and that's ok. It's my Truth, after all.

It's all fun and games...

...until someone crashes their car.

So it's been raining here today. A lot.

We here in Southern California have a tendency to overreact anytime water threatens to fall from the sky - the first sign of clouds overhead and the local news pre-empts everything for STORM WATCH 2008.  It's ridiculous and we non-natives get a big kick out of watching all of the panicky press coverage, but severe rainstorms really are a problem here.

First, the Los Angeles area is simply not built for rain. The topography works against us since we're perched in and around valleys, narrows, and flood plains; we're already at a disadvantage for controlling large, sudden amounts of water. The climate doesn't help - endless months of dry weather punctuated by wildfires and/or earthquakes make the soil very loose and arid which, in turn, makes it very likely to move when it gets wet. All of this is made worse by the fact that our infrastructure was not built with rain in mind at all. Our streets and freeways flood, our power plants fail, and our bridges and roadways fall apart. Severe rainstorms are as problematic for us as blizzards are for colder climates.

Second, Los Angeles residents seem completely incapable of remembering that we do, in fact, have a rainy season. Every year, 90% of the population stares at the sky in fear and confusion, wondering what brought the evil sky water and when it will stop. This causes them to make some very, very bad decisions.

Like driving 70mph on the 134 freeway, after dark, when it's pouring rain and visibility is 8 feet at best. Behavior like that made my drive home from the chiropractor tonight absolutely harrowing.

People, when the flooding is so bad that there is a CURRENT on the freeway, slow the fuck down. You don't have to be anywhere that imperatively. I'm looking at you Mr. I-can-barely-control-my-hydroplaning-Camaro, and you Ms. I-think-I'm-invincible-in-my-Land-Rover. There is absolutely no way either of you could have stopped in time if you'd come upon a stalled car, or a stretch of standing water, which does explain why both of you lost control of your vehicles when we hit that two foot deep patch of water. The fact that you didn't run into each other, or the median, or any other cars, is nothing more than dumb luck and I hope that you're both still thanking your Guardian Angels for that save.

The storm is supposed to continue throughout the weekend so I think I'll stick close to home until it passes. I'm not afraid of driving in the rain, but I sure as hell am afraid of everyone else driving in it.

Open Letter: KROQ Edition

Dear KROQ,

Are you trying to prevent people from buying tickets to this year's Acoustic Christmas? That's the only possible explanation I can think of for the convoluted way in which you've handled the event.

First, there was the overblown buildup to the announcements of each night's line-up. Normally I would have been out right there, but the line-ups were so good that I begrudginly agreed to stand by for purchase information.

Next came the ruling that tickets would only be available to KROQ Street Team members. I seriously resent being forced to sign up for your marketing vehicle in order to spend my money on your event, but fine - I gritted my teeth and signed up to get spammed.

Then there was the interminable waiting for ticket information. Acoustic Christmas is this weekend, but on-sale information wasn't sent out until about twenty minutes ago. KROQ used to be above that type of false, unnecessary hype but not anymore, it seems.

At last, the ticket information. Great! Except for three little things:

1) The tickets go on sale at 5pm and 6pm tomorrow. When most adults are, you know, WORKING or driving home from working. Hardly a good time to be in front of a computer. But I guess it's ok since the server will no doubt get overloaded within 10 minutes and lock most people out anyway.

2) Then there's this little gem: Sales to this event will be restricted to residents of Los Angeles, Orange, Riverside, San Bernardino, and Ventura Counties. Residency will be based on credit card billing address. Orders by residents outside Los Angeles, Orange, Riverside, San Bernardino, and Ventura Counties will be canceled without notice and refunds given. What? Why?

3) And finally: $187.00 a pair? Seriously?

So... I jumped through all of your freaking hoops only to be told that tickets will be outside my budget and go on sale at a time that I can't possibly hope to be in front of a computer to make my purchase (even if I could afford it). Awesome.

KROQ, WTF are you thinking?

No love,
Me

P.S. I'd also like to add an extra-special "Fuck you" to Ticketmaster for charging people $2.50 MORE for printing their tickets at home. Because somehow using my printer, and my ink, costs Ticketmaster more money? Right.

Multitasking

This morning, as I was driving through the Cahuenga Pass, I looked in my rearview mirror and saw this:

(Sorry for the image quality, the camera on my Treo is craptastic!)

Now, I have seen people do a lot of things while driving in Los Angeles. Eating and drinking, talking on their cell phones, putting on make-up, curling their hair, shaving their legs (one hand on the wheel, one leg on the dashboard), but this is the first time that I have seen someone reading and highlighting something while going 25mph. I can only assume that he was steering with his knees because his hands were full. His eyes were also nowhere near the road.

I changed lanes pretty quickly after that.

Could Have 2

I'm way too sore & tired to put together one coherent post, so it's time for another random collection of things I could have written about!

• California? Still on fire. Fortunately none of the wildfires are burning too close to me, but several friends have been evacuated already and many others are packed and ready to go. Please send extra special mojo to the Greaser and his wife - the condo that they bought last week is directly in the path of one of the Valencia-area fires.


• I'm finally on the Twitter bandwagon. Follow me, won't you?


• Keith & I nearly got blown onto Santa Monica Blvd when we were at Century City on Saturday night; that should have been a warning about how bad this round of fires was going to be.


• I am a dork, a big one. I was supposed to join my company's team for AIDS Walk Los Angeles on Sunday, but I forgot to set my alarm and slept right through it. I have agreed to repent by offering many rounds of margaritas to the two girlfriends with whom I was supposed to walk.


• I met Paul Joiner at the laundromat on Sunday night. That name won't mean much to you if you're not a college football fan, but if you are you'll remember that in the mid-nineties he was a starting linebacker at Cal and one of the most promising young linebackers of the decade. His career ended when, in the summer between his junior & senior years, he got behind the wheel of a car drunk and high and totaled it. Though the 4 passengers all escaped with minor injuries, he was in a coma for a couple of weeks and had to re-learn everything - even how to swallow. He's doing pretty well, all things considered. He's an interesting guy. My title as Queen of Random Supermarket and Laundromat Experiences is secure.


• Work has exploded all over my life and I'm trying to clean it up because I am doggedly determined to keep some semblance of balance as I head into my crazy season.


• A huge number of my friends have either recently had babies or are due to have them soon. I suspect this is directly related to the zillions of weddings that I went to one spring/summer a couple of years ago.


• I willingly and happily spent 2.5 hours at the gym tonight. I got there early to warm up and have someone show me how to wrap my hands (again), then class ran a little long, and  then as I was hanging onto the heavy bag for dear life after my 100th knee strike (ow) Chief poked his head around the bag and said "Hey, can you stay? I want you to do 30 minutes on the bike before you go." For some reason, I said "Sure!" I blame temporary insanity.
  


• I'm considering starting a separate Muay Thai blog because I want to talk about it all the time, but I don't want to bore all of you to tears. Because my usual posts are soooo riveting. :-)


• What's everyone doing for Halloween? I want to do something, but I am completely devoid of inspiration.

Shake it, baby

I know where I'm going to be tomorrow night, how about you?

Open Letter: Weather Edition

Dear Mother Nature,

It is 7:30 at night and it is still almost 100 degrees outside. It is 90 degrees in my living room. My cats are panting, my brain is melting, and I've been sweating for three days.

This is NOT OK.

If it's going to be this hot, could you at least lay off the humidity? We don't do humidity here in Southern California and it is making us CRAZY. We are liable to snap at any moment.

Your prompt attention to this matter is greatly appreciated; I think I just heard my basil plants burst into spontaneous flames.

Best,
Amandarin

Could Have

This week was simply chock full of blog fodder!

• I could have written about the bomb scare that shut down four blocks of the street on which I work Monday afternoon. Every single building in the area was evacuated - except mine.


• I could have written about my Catalan lessons and my tutor's continued refusal to speak to me in English. Not only are we great at charades, we're getting pretty good at Pictionary, too! I also could have blogged about how written Catalan barely resembles spoken Catalan and how much fun it is to try to figure out how to pronounce a new word when they're not spelled phonetically at all.


• I could have written about children, and the magnetism I seem to have for them lately. No matter where I am - at my Catalan lesson, at the laundromat, at the grocery store - they're following me around as though I am the Pied Piper. (Though I haven't lured any of them into a cave. Yet.)


• I could have written about the tropical wedding I didn't attend, the birthday invitations I had to decline, the drinks I completely forgot about, and the Curry Night I had to miss because of (you guessed it!) work. Also? I could have written about my frustrations over working this f*@%$*g much and still being this f*@%$*g broke.


• I could have written about the car accident I got into on Wednesday night and how awesome THAT was at the end of a 12 hour day.


• I could have written about Mongo, and how much he rocks for forcing me to go out and have food and beer, on him.


• I could have written about my friend Tom, who died early in the week - nearly a year to the day after Curtis (a mutual friend of ours) died under extremely similar circumstances. My friends & family could stop being plagued with cancer ANY day now, thanks.
  


• I could have written about working 6 days in a week and how, because Murphy is a bastard, the 6th day was the biggest nightmare goat rodeo of them all.


• I could have written about the new flowers & herbs I planted today, and how happy they make me.


• I could have written a long and eloquent post in honor of my Dad on Father's Day.


• I could have written about my tomato-stealing neighbor and how she is proof that if you give people an inch they will take a mile every tomato off your (6' tall!) vines.


• And of course, I could have written about The Fireman and how he continues to amaze and delight me every day. Even in the face of some serious things with which he's currently dealing, he never fails to make feel loved and cherished. I only hope that he can say the same of me.

Yep, it sure could have been a great week of blogging here at amandarin.net...

Would Have

Guess what boys & girls? It's time for another installment of Things I Would Have Written About If My Job Hadn't Eaten My Life:

• I would have written about Firebug's boyfriend flying me up to San Francisco last weekend as a surprise gift for her 30th birthday. That post would have included such gems as an explanation of why I'm kind of a big deal in Oakland, a description of the best burrito I have ever eaten, a review of Knocked Up, and a list of 50 reasons I no longer like to fly (hint: none of them have to do with heights, airsickness, or technophobia).
• I would have written about jury duty, and how I got it postponed the morning I had to appear.
• I would have written about the Ocean's 13 premiere, specifically about how rad Brad Pitt's car is (it was parked right next to our truck), how our Director got mistaken for George Clooney, and how I won the respect of an entire crew by carrying 120lbs of cable 20 yards. Also? I would have written about how glamorous my job is, as exemplified by our catered lunch which was served in a private corner between the urine-soaked alley and our generator. Ah, Hollywood.
• I would have written about the fact that Keith and I have set up a near-weekly lunch date and how much that rocks.
• I would have written about Orbit's Mint Mojito gum: Best. Gum. Ever. It tastes exactly like a mojito!
• I would have written about work and how I now have all the responsibilities of a promotion without either the new title or accompanying raise.
• I would have written about the Tomato Plants That Might Eat Pasadena, and the death of two of my bean plants (*sniff*).
• I would have written about my language tutor and her stalwart refusal to speak in English. We're getting very good at charades.
• I would have written work some more, especially since I logged 60 hours Monday - Friday and then went in for another 8 today.

So... yeah. That's what I would have written about, if I'd had the time.

I wouldn't have it any other way

I recently got it in my head that I want to learn a fourth language.

Not an easy language, mind you. Not something like Spanish or German where I could just skip on down to PCC and sign up for one of their Extended Learning classes. Oh no. I have to pick a langauge that, though spoken by about 10 million people, is not widely taught. In fact, it's only taught three places in all of Southern California.

Because this is me we're talking about and I can't ever do anything the easy way.

Of course none of those three place are offering classes I can attend (that would be too easy), so I went on the hunt for a private tutor. Google the all-knowing finally provided one and we traded emails for a week or so to work out the details.

Well, as soon as the final detail was worked out he started sending emails to me in the new language.  The language I don't speak yet. The language for which I don't even own a dictionary yet. (Google to the rescue again!) It just took me more than half an hour to muddle through an email that basically said "I know this is difficult, but it's good practice for you to read and write in this language. Meet me at this place at this time for your next lesson." I know immersion is the way to go but... damn.

Holy crap does my brain hurt (in the good way).

*headdesk*

Overheard on the other side of the cube wall:

She: Hey, what does "T.V." stand for, anyway?
He: Umm...seriously?

Not terrifying enough? Then please note this additional tidbit of information: I WORK AT A TELEVISION STUDIO.

Kill me now.

No, on second thought, kill HER now. Quick, before she breeds.

Buddhism in the 'burbs

On the last day of his visit, I surprised The Fireman by taking him to Hsi Lai Temple. I didn't even know that Hsi Lai Temple existed, but The Fireman mentioned it wistfully as one of the places he missed most in Southern California so I did some quick Googling to find out more information.

When we arrived, I was completely unprepared for the 15-acre temple complex that springs up suddenly in the middle of residential Hacienda Heights.

The Gateway as seen from Glenmark Drive:

 

Rebel Without a Cause

Today was a day.

A really CRAPPY day.

The kind of day that makes you want to throw your cell phone out the window, knock over your desk, and run screaming for the hills.

Perhaps you can imagine the mood I was in as I was walked down the hallway outside one of our studios, cursing my job and trying to decide how many times to use the phrase "goat rodeo" in my resignation letter.

Then I ran into a Stormtrooper.

Literally.

I went around a corner quickly, wasn't paying attention, and found myself eyes-to-chestplate with an overly tall Stormtrooper. There were four more behind him, chatting with an Imperial Officer and one of my cameramen while they waited for their next shot.

There was nothing I could do but laugh.

Seriously, how bad could by job be? Nobody else gets to run into Stormtroopers in the hallway!

Humor as Black as Griffith Park

Thursday is Inappropriate Humor Day! Today's installment is courtesy of The Fireman:

Please, listen.

As I was driving home tonight, enjoying my favorite guilty pleasure*, I heard the following dedication:

Girl: Hi, this is Jessica and I want to make a dedication?
Karen: Yes Jessica, what can we play for you?
Girl: Um, I Will Always Love You?
Karen: And who do you want to dedicate that to tonight?
Girl: To Justin. I just want to tell him that I love him and that I'll never leave him.
Karen: Ah, are you two having some problems?
Girl: No, I just want to tell him that because I love him and we have an amazing relationship.
Karen: ... OK Jessica, I'll be happy to play that for you. Justin? This one's going out just to you. It's I Will Always Love You by Whitney Houston here on "Love Songs on the KOST."Please

Gee, Jessica, which part of the song do you think will show Justin your unwillingness to leave his side? The part that says So I'll go, but I know I'll think of you every step of the way? Or the part that says So good-bye. Please, don't cry. We both know I'm not what you, you need?

People, please. THINK before you make a song dedication, will you? Listen to ALL the lyrics, not just the freaking chorus.

Sheesh.

-----
*I know, I know - Karen Sharp is more annoying than Paris Hilton. But the romantic in me likes the fact that there's an entire radio show dedicated to telling others how much they're loved, or treasured, or missed. It restores some measure of my faith in humanity.

I think we missed a season

A few weeks ago, it was cold (for Los Angeles anyway) and raining.

Today it is 98 degrees, sunny, and something is on fire.

What happened to Spring? I miss Spring.

She's got living to do, baby

The L.A. Times did an article on Joy Nash this morning. When she posted on her blog that she was going to be interviewed, I admit that I was skeptical - the L.A. Times is not known for its balanced reporting, especially on anything entertainment, image, or style related.

This article, however, is FABULOUS.

I love that it's The Mirror story, the daily style item.

I love that the writer understands Joy's project isn't about reforming America, but about reforming "fat people's attitude toward themselves."

I love that the article is entirely positive; there's not one snide comment in the mix.

Still don't know what all the fuss is about? Go here to watch A Fat Rant.

Fun At Quiznos

Today at lunch, I found myself behind a couple who had apparently never been in a Quiznos before (or any other establishment that requires the ordering of food):

It's a busy Saturday afternoon at Quiznos. One of the employees has just announced that they are out of oven-roasted turkey, but that they still have plenty of smoked turkey. Guy & Gal are standing under the large, colorful sign that says ORDER HERE, in front of five or six people. They are so busy canoodling that Sandwich Girl (SG) has to greet them three times before they look up and realize that their input is required.

SG: Hi, welcome to Quiznos. What can I get for you?
Guy: Is it true that you're out of turkey?
SG: We're out of oven-roasted turkey sir, but we have smoked turkey.
Guy: So that's like, turkey? Except smoked?
SG: Yes sir.
Guy: And you could make the turkey peppercorn parmesan thing with that?
SG: Yes sir.
Guy: OK, then we want a turkey sandwich.
SG: What kind?
Guy: The turkey one.
SG: The Pepercorn Parmesan Turkey with Bacon?
Guy: Yeah, that.
SG: For here or to go?
45 second conversation between Guy & Gal about whether they'd rather eat here or go back to their love nest.
Guy: To go.
SG: And what size?
Guy: What sizes do you have?
SG: Small, Regular, and Large.
Guy: After a bit more conferring Large.
SG: White or wheat?
Guy: White.
Gal: Wheat.
Guy: White.
SG: OK, white. And do you want everything on that sir?
Guy: Yeah, and if you put mustard on it use the spicy stuff. I hate yellow mustard.
SG: This sandwich doesn't come with mustard, would you like to add it?
Guy: Only if you usually put it on.
SG: We don't, sir, but we do have spicy mustard if you'd like to add it.
Guy: Yeah, just do whatever's usually on it.
SG: So you would like to ADD mustard, correct?
Guy: Yeah, great.
SG proceeds to make the sandwich and put it up in the oven so that it can get all toasty. Guy & Gal are still standing there, watching it go into the oven, although there is (another) large, colorful sign that directs people to pay at the other end of the counter.
Gal: I hate mustard.
Guy: Hey, can you take the mustard off the sandwich?
SG: I can't reach into the oven, sir, and I won't be able to remove the mustard once it's been toasted. Would you like me to remake your sandwich?
Guy: Yeah, can you? Thanks.

I swear everyone in line was ready to kill them by the time the second sandwich was in the oven. Don't get me started on the conversation they had at the cash register Fun over whether or not to order a drink.

Grr.

Shake it!

Oh yes friends, it's that time of the month again, time for BootieLA, and this month we're rockin' the super special Cinquo de Mayo edition!

Be there, or be square!

Would Have

Wow... Friday already. How did that happen? I had several blog posts planned for this week, but somehow life kept getting in the way.

• On Monday, I planned to write about The Texan's visit and how we all sat around at home on Saturday night drinking cocoa and playing Scrabble. I was also going to tell you a funny story about Ken Watanabe's dog.


• On Tuesday, I planned to write about this article in the Washington Post detailing an experiment in which Joshua Bell posed as an ordinary street musician and played in Washington's L'Enfant Plaza Metro station during the morning rush hour.  I can't imagine not pausing to listen; I love the sound of the violin so much that its song could stop me in my tracks.


• On Wednesday, I planned to write about the goat rodeo that is my move to a new cubicle.


• On Thursday, I planned to write about Lee Iacocca, and how I can't wait to read his new book.


• Today, I planned to write about Don Imus and how ABSURD I think his firing is. Phil Mushnick of the New York Post says it better than I ever could: Brainless hypocrites win again.

It would have been a week of quality blog posts... if I'd had time to write them.

Shake Your Bootie

Listen up people, there is only ONE place to be this Saturday night and that place is BootieLA!

All the cool kids are going to be there shakin' it to the sounds of Party Ben & DJ Axel - we're even importing cool kids from Austin for the occasion!

Come on, you've been meaning to join us at Bootie for months - make April the month when you follow through and get your ass out on that dance floor!

I guarantee fabulous music, reasonably priced drinks, an awesome crowd, and dancing until you can't dance no more.

There may even be bacon afterwards. Do you really need more of an incentive than that?

I didn't think so.

I May Have Overreacted

Today was a Day. The kind of day that has you needing a drink at 10:30 and ready to kill someone for a drink by 5.

It is safe to assume that I may not have been in the best of all possible tempers while driving home this evening.

That being said, I was merrily minding my own business on the drive crawl up Cahuenga this evening when I came upon the intersection at De Longpre.

It bears mentioning that this is a notoriously bad intersection. Because Cahuenga narrows and curves at this point, and because the entrance to Amoeba's parking is just half a block up, it's not uncommon to sit at this intersection for a full light cycle before actually getting to go through it.

It also bears mentioning that there is a fire station on the north west corner of the intersection.

As I pulled up, I saw that the lane was at a stop and that I would find myself sitting in the middle of the intersection if I continued onward. So, although the light was green, I stopped on the near side and waited for my lane to clear lest I "block the box."

That's when the woman behind me started honking.

Not a little "Hey, did you mean to stop there?" beep or an aggravated "Move!" kind of honk, this was an impatient, blaring hooooonk followed by an obnoxious and insistent hooooooooooooonk.

Anyone who has driven with me knows that I hate being honked at under the best of circumstances. When I am already cranky and am doing absolutely nothing wrong, I really loathe it.

The light turned yellow with no movement in my lane so I resigned myself to sitting through the rest of the light cycle. The woman behind me, clearly unahppy with my assessment of the situation, decided to voice her dissent by laying on her horn for all she was worth.

That's when I got out of my car and tapped on her windowr.

When she rolled it down a smidge, eyes wide as saucers, I spoke pleasantly:

Ma'am, I understand that you are in a hurry but, as you can see, traffic is heavy and our lane is at a complete standstill. Perhaps you've noticed that it's rush hour. It is not my goal to slow you down, I promise that I would continue through the intersection if there were space for my car on the other side but there isn't. I will not block the box, particularly when there is a fire station right there. Now please just settle down and be patient and I'm sure we'll all be moving shortly. Oh, and if you touch that horn again? I'm coming back here to break your fingers.

The sense of relief in this woman was palpable - I'm fairly certain she thought I was going to kill her.

As I got back into my car, the guy in the car next to mine (who had also stopped so as not to block the box) turned to me and started applauding.

In Short

Ya know, you'd think that finally purchasing a shiny new computer would give me more opportunities to blog. Alas, no. I bought it on Friday and here it is Tuesday already! I've only a moment to pause and update so (once again) I'll be brief:

I bought the aforementioned computer on Friday night and stayed up way, way too late playing with it. There's a compatability issue between the version of OS X that I have on my PowerBook and the new version on my MacBook, so I couldn't use the migration assistant to transfer any of my sound or music files. I've really been enjoying transferring 13 gigs worth of music over the fire wire connection by hand.

I ran into Joy Nash (of Fant Rant fame) in Hollywood on Sunday and stopped her to tell her how eloquent and fabulous I think her rant is. In the course of conversation we discovered that not only did we go to college together, we worked on several shows together. Further proof that Los Angeles is, at its core, a teeny tiny village.

I also got my car washed on Sunday (yes, I am to blame for yesterday's rain) and ended up tipping the two guys who detailed the Lotus Elise that was parked in front of my car in addition to tipping my own guy. Those two spent 45 minutes detailing that Lotus and the driver didn't tip them at all - they both looked absolutely stunned when he grabbed his keys and drove off without so much as a nod of thanks. Sometimes, I hate people.

I am seriously considering getting a Tivo. There are already two shows on television to which I'm completely addicted (Bones & Dresden Files), but now that I've watched the first two episodes of The Tudors online I'm hooked on that, too! Jonathan Rhys Meyers: *swoon*.

Dr. Geek and I have been playing phone tag (or rather, IM tag) about when next to get together. Possibly Friday. The suckiness of his living 30 miles south of me is compunded by the fact that our schedules are, of course, nearly completely opposite.

Thanks to the wonders of iChat, I got to actually "see" Kerr last night for the first time in a couple of years. He's one of those people with whom I share an incredibly deep and treasured friendship, in spite of the fact that we don't get to talk or see one another very often. It was good to catch up; he makes me smile.

Work is crazy, my house remains in a state of perpetual project, and there just don't seem to be enough hours in the day for anything! But, other than that, I'm fine.

How're you?

(Future) President's Day

This Tuesday, February 20th, Barack Obama will hold his first rally in Los Angeles since announcing his candidacy for President.

2:00 PM at the Rancho Cienega Sports Complex - I'll be there; who's with me?

Admission is free and the rally is open to the public, but RSVP to guarantee yourself a spot.

Glamour

Me, crouched under the side of our production truck
(note the tire behind me) trying to stay out of the rain*.

When I tell people that I work in television, their immediate reaction is usually something along the lines of "Oooh, how glamorous!"

Um, not exactly.

Don't get me wrong, I love my job - it's the perfect combination of my inner geek and my inner stage manager. But as you can see from the photo above,  I'm not exactly gliding down the red carpet in vintage Versace. More like well worn Merrell.

Walkie? Tool Belt? Cuddling up next to a tire to stay warm? Nothing but glamour here, baby!

-----
*For reference, our trucks look something like this. I was under the expansion, the part to which the stairs lead in that photo.

Open Letters: Asshole Edition

You might say it's been a weekend.

Dear Jackass,

When you attempt to follow me into a secured ATM vestibule by jamming your foot in the door when I open it, please do not be surprised when I ask you to use your own card to gain entry. It's 11pm on a Saturday night, there are no open stores or houses within shouting distance, and I am not an idiot. The proper response to my request is "Oh, sure" not "What are you, some kind of paranoid fucking bitch?"

I hope your mother/sister/wife/girlfriend gets mugged by someone for whom she held open the door.

No Love,
Me

*****

Dear Overgrown Frat Boy,

I'm so glad that you and your cronies have discovered Bootie. I know it seems unbelievable that a club this good should exist so far east of the Sunset strip, but it does. Yes, the music really is awesome. Yes, the drinks really are strong. And yes, I AM a fat girl dancing front and center on stage next to the DJ (and looking damn fine doing it, too).

Try to contain your shock next time, m'kay?

Pointing at me, whispering to the girl hanging on you and then making a big theatrical production of snickering is really not necessary, you juvenile prick. It is only out of respect for Party Ben that I did not walk to the front of the stage and kick your smug, capped teeth right out of your face.

Grow up.

No Love,
Me

P.S. A special note to the blonde bitch who kept jabbing her elbow into my back and staring daggers at me: Yes, three of us did intentionally dance ourselves between you & your friends and Party Ben. He's working and doesn't need your drunk asses grinding up on him or slamming into the table and making his CDs skip. Buy him a drink after the set. Much good may it do you!

*****

Dear Plumber Chauvinist Pig,

When you have been called to my house to clear a blockage on the common sewer line, I expect that you will do a thorough job. (I also expect that you'll talk to me and not to my male neighbor who has been at work all night and doesn't know when his bathroom started backing up nevermind when mine did but let's start with the basics, shall we?) In this case, a thorough job means snaking the sink drain, the shower drain AND the common line. The landlord has called you to my house before, you know that the drains are old and problematic.

So, when I ask you to snake the shower before you pack up your equipment (since I noticed you hadn't done it) please do not tell me that "Everything costs money, sweetheart." When I calmly ask how much this basic preventative service will cost, saying "Twenty dollars, cash" will send up a huge, waving, red flag.

Please don't be surprised when I ask you to add that $20 to the receipt you're handing me to sign and and to provide me with a copy of said receipt. The response to my reasonable request is to do so, NOT to call me a "fucking bitch" and then scream obscenities at me.

No, you may not tell me to "fucking deal" and leave without giving me a receipt. No, you may not scribble a receipt on the back of my grocery list when I just watched you write a receipt that has a carbon copy. No, you may not accuse me of trying to "work outside the system" (wtf?) when I tell you that I am entitled to a receipt.

You tried to con yourself into an extra $20 and got caught. By a girl. Deal.

Shut your fucking mouth and give me a copy of the receipt.

No Love,
Me

Last Weekend Standing

Since this was my last full weekend off until March, I decided that I should do peaceful, relaxing things*. I went to Mongo's house for ribs & wine**, I got my hair cut, I spent some quality time with TC and Keith. I ran some errands, I cleaned my house,  I made a new friend***. I hung my fabulous new curtains, did some reading, and was in bed by 10pm Sunday night****.

Just a nice quiet weekend, really.

_____
*Or... things that may prevent me from ever running for office.
**There may also have been a highly alcoholic beverage that tasted exactly like Hawaiian Punch.
***And gave him my phone number
***Possibly because I didn't get home before 4am on Friday and Saturday night.

Hello, 2007!

And goodbye, 2006! Hallelujah.

I woke up this morning to the dulcet sounds of the Rose Parade's opening flyover and settled in to watch the parade commercial-free with a big mug of Red Chai tea.

Later, I'll head down to Orange County to watch the game with the North County USC Alumni Club.

   

Beer, football, parades? That's the way to start a new year!

Happy New Yar, everyone.

Overheard

This afternoon, on the restaurant patio next to my ATM:

Guy #1: You know that old cliche about lipstick on the collar?
Guy #2 Yeah
Guy #1 Well that's why it ended.
Guy #2 Wait, you went home with lipstick on your collar?
Guy #1 No, uh, she did.
Guy #2: Oh.

Edward Scissorhands

Sam Archer as Edward Scissorhands

Last night, I was lucky enough to score a ticket to see Edward Scissorhands at the Ahmanson Theater. It's good to have friends on tour! Choreographed by Matthew Bourne (best known in the US for his all-male interpretation of Swan Lake), Edward Scissorhands isn't the movie brought to stage but rather a wonderful re-imagining of Burton's gentle hero. The children and teenagers in the crowd are always a good indication of a show's success; it was wonderful to hear so many gasps, silences, and squeals of glee as the story unfolded.

I confess, even I wanted to squeal when the topiaries came to life and danced around Edward's garden.

There are many "Oooh" moments, but dance aficionados will watch Edward & Kim's final Pas de Deux with rapt attention - just the mechanics of choreographing it are stunning.

After spending so much of my life in the theater it's often difficult for me to lose myself in shows, but I was perfectly at ease in Bourne's world. Edward Scissorhands seemed to me the perfect combination of fantastical entertainment and heart-achingly poignant story telling.

No Home for Christmas

At 3am this morning, two homes near USC were engulfed by fire.

One of the houses (the suspected source of the fire) was empty. The other housed my friend Crickett and her roommates, Legion & Soonie.

The good news is that all three people and all of the animals got out safely. The bad news is that not much else did. Almost all of their posessions (including Crickett's wallet) were inside the house and since the roof collapsed, there's very little chance of recovering anything. The house itself is a loss for sure.

Red Jenn has set up a PayPal fund for them; if you have a few dollars to spare this holiday season, please send them their way.

Contribute

Those of you who read my blog via its main page rather than RSS feed will notice a new TypeList to the left called CONTRIBUTE. Since the holiday season is now in full swing and people are looking for ways in which to share their time or money, I wanted to list a few of my favorite organizations. Some of these are local - I'm sure those of you in other areas of the world can find similar programs closer to home:

ANY SOLDIER, INC. We talk a lot about supporting our troops, but the military personnel deployed overseas can't read our bumper stickers or see the ribbons on our doors - they can't hear our speeches or read our blog posts. What they CAN do is read letters, and enjoy care packages full of reminders of home.

Started as one family's way to help their son's brigade, Any Soldier, Inc. has expanded to include all branches of the armed services and reaches almost 20,000 active duty military personnel via more than 4,000 military representatives. Because my father was a SeaBee, I've chosen a rep who is the OIC of a SeaBee battalion stationed in the Al Anbar provice of Iraq.

The system is simple: Scroll through the military representatives (all of them post personal messages about what they need, what their conditions are like, etc), and apply to receive that rep's address (because of security concerns they are not posted on the website). Then, fill up a couple of care packages with treats, necessities, and letters and send them off! Warning: Please read the FAQ and sending regulations very carefully - sending mail to a war zone requires a few extra steps and precautions.

PASADENA HUMANE SOCIETY & SPCA The PHSSPCA is one of the oldest animal shelters in Los Angeles County - it was founded in 1903! Not only do they offer boarding, sheltering, adoption and outreach education, t