Avoid Shortcuts

Last night I found myself sitting alone in a dark corner below a bright spotlight. There was a man standing there next to me, looming.

“I’m a police detective,” he said. Then he started asking a lot of questions.

I swear it’s not what you think. I didn’t do anything wrong. Well, except for sign up for speed dating, that is.

So who hasn’t been curious about this practice since it emerged 10 or so years ago? I suppose those who were already tried it. And, well, it’s jumped the shark.

I’d hoped for some novelty, some fun, some intrigue. But what I got was a bunch of guys looking for a place where women would sit still when they approached them. I knew it wouldn’t go well when, before things even started, I realized the only man in the room who I found attractive was pouring drinks behind the bar.

The women sat at tables in a skeezy Hollywood Boulevard dive while the men moved to the next one every two minutes or so. The event organizer assigned me to the corner table all alone, a place where no one would be able to hear me scream. I like to think I’m nice – but two minutes just started feeling like a really long time. And that was only talking.

“You exercise regular?”

“I’m going to mark you ‘yes’ just because of your good looks.”

“There’s always women throwing themselves at me.”

“I’m an attorney for other attorneys.”

“You must be A…”

On my match card I circled “no,” “no,” then “no,” another “no,” and “no” again.

Rain!

As soon as the first drop of rain hit Los Angeles asphalt, most, if not all drivers decided to drive sideways in their cars last night. Traffic was miserable. It’s just rain falling from the sky, not martini glasses filled with baby blood.

LA Auto Snooze

It's been a dismal year for the auto industry and this year's LA Auto Show does everything right to prove this point. This was the most fun I'd ever had at someone's bedside, just moments before they pulled the plug.

I'm talking about specifically about GM. The car pictured here is the Chevy HHR Panel - nothing more than a Cavalier dressed up as a PT Cruiser for a November Halloween party. This HHR Panel is different from the regular HHR because it has the clever detail in that it's missing two rear windows and has more cheap plastic parts inside than all of the Jacksons combined. Amazing. If you think this is cool, get the fuck out of my country and go back to Douchelvania, or at least stop voting.

Up until today, I was on the fence about the auto industry bailout. Walking the floor of the convention center, one notion is blindingly clear - If you gave them a grey whale stuffed with $25 Billion in cash, they'd use it to make more of the same bullshit.

P.S. Photo stolen from the 24 hour Global Warming Tailgate party called truckinweb.com

99.99 cent store UPDATE!

Remember those tin-snips I bought. I was cutting an eyelash with them and this happen.



I think they were made out of apple cores and old newspapers. I would suggest avoiding all products at the 99 cent store that are from a company called CHINA.

99

You might be wondering what you’re looking at above. It’s a potato bin in a 99 cent store with an old women rooting through it. I love the 99 cent store and here in Los Angeles for some reason there are an ungodly number of stores. From where I work there are two equidistant and only one block away from me. Packaged food, produce, holiday decorations, old DVD’s, hardware supplies, school supplies, plants, fine china, and the list goes on and on.

I don’t remember if 99 cent stores existed anywhere else that I lived and I must have only been to one before I moved to LA. Now I go there a few times a week. It’s usually how I spend my morning and/or afternoon break. Browsing the aisles and paying with change. Today I went on my morning break because; I knew they had tin snips so I got those and some other provisions. The worst part about the store is the lines. WTF? Everything is 99 cents how come it takes so long to it ring up? Here are a few factors to consider:

Average age of shopper
The age of the average 99 cent store shopper is somewhere around 72 for males, 80 for females, and 76 for transgender persons. How did I get these stats? They are the average death ages for Americans. All these old people roaming around loading their carts with stuff. It must be convenient for them because, everything is cheap and they’re barely surviving on Medicare, also they only need to go to one store for everything. So now that they have toilet paper, hot pockets, and aloe plants, they’re loading it up on the conveyor belt one at a time and I usually help them out. It sucks that they have to do all that themselves. They should do the carts like they do at Trader Joe’s and save those folks the hassle. It would also help the lines go 99% faster.

Bagging
99 cent employees always double and sometimes triple bag. There must be some special 99 cent store policy that all things must be over bagged, put in their own bag, and/or have an unused bag attached to your bag that’s being used. One reason this could happen is because, their main clientele (old people) always want things double bagged, it must be something that happens when you pass 60 or something.

“Uh-Oh!”
This is a sound you hear when something rings up wrong. An actual human voice that comes from the cash register, “Uh-Oh!” Highly pitched and super annoying. It reminds me of this sound/thing that would happen when you played Mortal Kombat as a kid. Anyways, it’s so annoying and weird that it causes everyone to stop and think, “What the fuck was that?” And then start doing what they were doing so they scan the same thing again and it goes “Uh-Oh!” and the vicious cycle continues.

So go to the 99 cent store and find some bargains they’re there to be found. Wooden coat hangers? Got it. Need a bottle of wine to go with that 99 cent can of sardines? Got it. Hannah Montana stationary? Got it. One thing to watch out for is the produce. Most people won’t touch it and I know I’m one of those people. I’ve had some bad experiences and it’s just not worth it. Go find 99 reasons to spend 99 dollars at the 99 cent store and help an old person unload their cart.

A Smorgasbord Saturday

Yirko sure knows how to throw a party – his smorgasbord extravaganza on Saturday night resembled what I imagine cocktail parties of the ‘60s must’ve been like, with classy company conversing and snacking from small plates and toothpicks. I’ve always loved lounge music and big hair and think this type of event needs to be attempted more often. There was caviar with endives, smoked oysters, veggie meatballs and chocolate fondue – and the smorgasbord was a central gathering place for simultaneous chatter and sampling.

I’d been very excited about the Swedish theme, complete with an Ikea menu and Abba purring in the background, as it could be a chance to connect with my Scandinavian heritage. My great grandmother was a Danish emigrant – but other than aebleskivers and Dogme 95, I’m pretty ignorant about the region. This party had Glogg, fish-flavored cheese paste and marshmallow car-shaped candies called Ahlgrens bilar – and I got a little taste of where I came from. I watched the palm trees swaying outside and basked in the superficiality of thinking this could actually bring me closer to my distant relatives near the Arctic. More about the smorg from Yirko and Ben…

Then I was off to another event before wrapping up my evening: An art show opening at Foreign Family featuring the work of Hannah Stouffer. Amazing stuff in this collection. Her mix of traditional Asian drawing style, Dia de Los Muertos-like skeletons and renderings of Americana wildlife, including coyotes, moose and hawks, was splashed with avante-garde watercolor backgrounds. I thoroughly enjoyed all of it, even if I possess no legacy related to any of these.

Commuting by bicycle: The ups and downs

I commute everyday to work by bicycle here in Los Angeles. I’ve come to enjoy riding in Los Angeles even though it took me a few years to get use to the roads and drivers. You can bicycle about 365 days out of the year but, when it rains I get on the metro. Moisture, Los Angeles, and vehicles are basically a perfect storm for roadway stupidity and I’d rather be on a bus getting sideswiped by a mini van then on my bicycle. But, this article isn’t about rain or commuting it’s about just falling down.

This morning I was riding really fast on my way to work because, I was late, tired, and I was just trying to get some adrenaline going. When I get to work my energy is up, I’m slightly sweaty, and I get to change from one outfit to another. Anyways, so I’m hauling my literal ass and I always get to this intersection where I need to wait for a break in traffic. You have to be kind of aggressive at this spot or a break will never open up so I usually nose my way out so a car slows down and then jam on it. While I was “jamming on it” my back wheel slid out from under me on the run off of an over irrigated lawn, and I did a 180 and landed on my side. Blood flowed forth from my knee; my handlebars got tweaked a little. I checked everything out, looked fine and jumped back on my bike. The blood kept trickling down my leg and I was already planning on how I’d clean it up in the bathroom when I got to work.

Having an accident is one of the only things I worry about when I ride my bike, and getting traffic tickets. I know I could die. I know someone could pull in front of me and knock me off my bike yet, I love to do it. Falling today was kind of fun. It gave me a little perspective. Made me think I should replace that back tire with a new one and to watch it on the wet patches. It didn’t once make me think I should find a different way to go to work or give me any frustration. It just left me with that feeling that this is me, this is my life, and I love it even with the ups and downs.

Below is a movie of my injured leg. Kinda safe for work. . .

Hair Today Gone Tomorrow

That's the best Hair Salon Pun I could remember off hand. Send me some. I love them.

*****

For two days, I slicked my hair back and away from my face for efficiency's sake. I've been wearing my bangs down and floppy since around March, mostly because my new car has ZERO head room. I cut the bangs too short over the weekend however, so I'm wearing my toupee in a style I call the Ken Takahara, as in "Reporting live from the edge of the Volcano on the Big Island, this is Ken Takahara."

I received a heaping assful of unsolicited comments at work:
Whoa! You look smooth. I'd buy anything you sold me.
Whoa! I never knew you were such a pretty boy.
Whoa! I could go for that.
This, mostly from proud rifle toting and beer gut cradling, Simi-Valley, white flight, Nascar, Drill Baby Drill Dads.

Also:
Why are you dressed so nice? Oh, is it because the Big Wigs are here? Yeah.
Man, ever since we all dressed like the boss, your hair has really taken off.
That's a really good look for you, so suave.
Did you get tanned over the weekend?
Wow, that is a nice hair line.
Glad to see Reagan is back.

It's as if the amnesia wagon came by and clocked everyone real good. I've been sporting the Ken Takahara since the 90s, and certainly for almost all of the six years I've been working here. The down do emo look is new, and I can remember a time not long ago when someone looked at my emo hair and said, I'm so glad you are styling your hair this way, you know, not like all the other Asian guys with their hair up like you had it.

Ken was supposed to be an easy fix, but is a distraction as well as a liability. I've seen more people suck in their cheeks and mock my catwalk in the last two days than I desire; and I've been driving in a seating position more supine than is safe in order to keep from smearing pomade on the moonroof.

Today is hair down day, and, because it's officially always summer in L.A., I'm wearing a blue linen shirt with white pants and no regard to my position in space/time relating to Labor Day. Already, I've been told that someone finds my outfit comforting, it reminds him he said of a hard-nosed, edgy, investigative reporter trying to break a big drug cartel story in Indonesia.

Hair up. Hair down. Reporter. That's my deal.

Huh?

Did you assholes know it was Autumn? Probably not if you lived here. I was just reading the news posts on our very own blog and one braces us for even warmer weather by week's end.

This morning I went to Whole Foods on 3rd and Fairfax before work, dressed in a coat, because it was a bit brisk, but by the time I got out of there 45 minutes later, it was broiling in my car. Hey somebody! Fuck You!

H8

As I was taking the bus home last night, it got hung up in West Hollywood, as No on 8 protesters filled the streets. People were shouting, honking, chanting and waving signs to protest inequality. I called a friend and disembarked at Fairfax to meet him -- and together we walked toward the melee and straight into the heart of the crowd in front of the Pacific Design Center. There were dogs and babies and all sorts of people, some singing, some yelling and some taking photos. We then followed the sea of people that filled both lanes of San Vicente all the way up to Sunset.
And as we strode down the strip, using our bodies to contribute to the larger disruptive mass, irritated drivers' gave us dirty looks and attempted to speed through holes in the crowd. Why can't these people see the bigger picture? This is bigger than your being delayed getting home. And it's bigger than your own interpretation of marriage. Just like those awful LA drivers, voters seem to be too caught up in preserving their own comforts to see how much they're endangering other people.

obama

I can't really describe what I'm feeling right now. For the first time in my life I think I'm proud to be an American. We had a major victory in this country last night and we still have battles to fight. Prop 8 passed in California. Inequality still exists. I believe Obama is going to help change things and in the future all people will be treated equally across this country.

Counted

This salty little heart of mine is rarely moved by presidential elections. With each go around, I simply fear that more of the life that I love will be chipped away from me and my tribe. So it caught me off guard that on my way from the Valley into the Rampart Division, to my polling place, I wept on hearing the news of record turnouts, long lines, expectant first time voters and the general excitement around the election.

I cried when I arrived at the charter school and saw the proud, excited, waddling people of many races who were eager to check in and vote, or who were strutting away bearing the I Voted sticker . I am always awed by the volunteers who thanklessly and dutifully staff these "democracy" stations, but tonight in particular, the poll workers made sure that anyone who could vote would vote. A Filipino couple gratefully and happily accepted a provisional ballot. A Chinese mother, barely able to speak English, was shepherded through the process by her 7 year old son. A first time voter expressed her nervousness about the process.

We are raised to know that he who has the most money, not only wins, but also has the loudest voice. I choked back many many tears at the polling place, bearing witness to something I probably will not see again in my life time. I was overwhelmed by the number of people who decided that, whether their team wins or loses; whether or not the electric bill gets paid; whether or not they will be among those who will keep their jobs; just for today, because it is their right, they will be heard, and they will be counted.

Change in LA!

A's post was super sweet and I'm feeling the same energy right now. Me and my significant other, Kate, headed to the polls at 7am. When we were on our way there we saw a guy across the street from us kind of talking/kind of freaking out about Prop 8 and Kate yelled out "No on 8!" and he gave us a wave and we waved to him. At that point I almost started crying. It just really hit me that I was going to vote. In the past I just didn't feel connected to our political system. I maybe glanced over any ballot measures and basically I didn't care. Now I really feel a part of what's happening today. I want a new president, I am voting for equality, I am voting because, I care.

So we waited in line for an hour and then voted. Afterwards Kate and I were in similar places with what just happened, except I was hiding it more. It probably also helped that I had my "I Voted" sticker on my forehead. She was really nervous and so was I. We just have to wait now. On our way home we saw a "No On Prop 8" guy and Kate asked for a sticker. When I got home I made a sign to have on my backpack during my ride to and from work.

It rained last night in LA so everything is super clear and clean here. The sun is shining and it feels like a perfect day. A new day!

Change is afoot!

I got caught up in all of the electoral excitement when I voted first thing this morning. My roommate and I left the apartment at 6:15 am, armed with our cheat sheets from the Political Potluck and stopped for coffee at Intelligentsia. The sky was cloudy, but the moisture in the air made it refreshing. When we arrived at our polling place, I snapped a great shot of the sign out front, which was in English, Spanish and Vietnamese. After several minutes of sitting in the chairs at the elementary school gym, where it smelled like kids -- crayons, laundry soap and a hint of hot lunch pizza -- the poll workers announced that the polls were open.
As the lines moved, I chatted with a couple fellows next to me who I learned live on my street. We chatted about the neighborhood, about one street where there used to be a crack hotel and how it's likely it will be turned into a Grove-like outdoor shopping area. When it was my turn to enter the booth I was so excited that I almost forgot to grab a ballot.
After marking my votes, I double checked all of my selections and saw my roommate was taking pictures of her ballot to text to her brother. I lingered in the booth to let the ink dry and take in the moment.
When we walked outside it was like a new day. A man stood on the other side of the "No Electioneering" notice with a sign that said "Neighbors please! VOTE NO ON PROP 8." We waved at him to affirm we had and he gave us a thumbs up. My roomie called her mom to relay the excitement. The clouds had cleared and a warm light was now flooding the streets; the street signs, restaurants, storefronts, posters and billboards all seemed brighter than they had before we went in. As I walked down Sunset, I could see the Hollywood sign -- the sky was so clear. I walked up to the bus stop to wait, enjoying the sunshine -- and the hope that it symbolized.

Political Potluck

Saturday morning we had a Political Potluck, A was there and Yirko showed up later with some cake that I’m sure he’s going blog about. You might be wondering what a Political Potluck is? Well, it’s a chance for people to gather together and share their views and research on issues that are going to be on the ballot on November 4. Oh yhea, and everyone is supposed to bring something to either eat or drink so it’s a really yummy political experience. In California there are 12 propositions on the ballot for the entire state and then local measures for LA County. Some of the propositions aren’t as easy to digest as chocolate covered glazed donuts, as we learned during the potluck. Many things get put on the ballot that are there to trick and fool the people. It was really exciting and at the same time depressing thinking about all these propositions and all of the dialogue and research we were having and how millions Californians aren’t going to know anything when they go to vote and just read a blurb and think that’s good, and vote yes.

Some of the propositions are: A high speed commuter train from LA to SF (I assume like the ones in Japan, awesome!), parental notification on under-age abortions, ban on gay marriage, 2 “green” measures that aren’t really “green” and benefit big companies further ravaging of the environment, police and law enforcement funding (which is a super crazy unbelievable proposition that’s around 16 pages long and some highlights are changes to over 30 state laws and giving the police an unbelievable amount of power and almost an extra billion dollars annual.)

So we’ve got a lot to think about on November 4. Not just the election of a President but, also decisions on our way of life in California. I know this election is the most important one in my life. Listening to the radio and seeing people out on the streets, you can feel the collective energy that’s out there. It felt so good to sit around with other caring Americans and one English woman and share our thoughts and views collectively. Unravel the bureaucratic nightmare of the propositions and look forward to a new President on November 4 and hopefully have some propositions pass and others fail. We’ll just have to wait and see. . .

Under $10

A and I embarked on an adventure on Saturday night asking the question, how do you have fun in LA for under $10? The answer - get food poisoning, or something like it.

After the political potluck, A met me at our house for a guerilla expedition to enjoy the world's best espresso machine happily situated in the break room of her office. The night was full of many snags to begin with. When she arrived, she realized that she forgot her keys, and I was a little cranky from the pirates of the caribbean battle raging inside me. We got as far as a block when I asked her to return to my house for a poopy pit stop.

We got to her building in Century City - the City of the Future, but were not allowed access to the office, unless she was willing to pay $280 for a locksmith to let us in. The guy with the big key ring wasn't in on weekends we found out. That was a huge disappointment for me because I was planning on using that toilet and now I had to wrap my mind around clenching my sphincter for a much longer, unimaginable stretch. We went somewhere else to have our $10 adventure to find it was closed. More extended length clenching for me. We augmented our adventure to Kombucha at Whole Foods Fairfax then compulsive shopping at The Grove across the street. I felt shocked and frankly a little paralyzed by the sign at the Whole Foods restroom - Closed Until Further Notice.

Ben noted in his post that I might be blogging about the cake I brought to political potluck. He was right. As I stood there, nearly in tears at the restroom closed sign, some mental images of the day came feeding back to me with HD clarity and it was the cake. The cake, I reasoned is the cause of all my woes. That cake is still sitting at Ben and his Public Defender girlfriend's house for them to enjoy and stuff more e.coli down their cake holes. I alerted Ana to this, I alerted Ben's Public Defender girlfriend to this by voicemail and Ana drove me home immediately so I could puke up the pizza that A, my boyfriend and I enjoyed earlier in the day at Hard Times Pizza, and then later I'd be spending the entire night, ass suctioned to the toilet seat, somehow, strangely feeling grateful for this life, these friends, this boyfriend, this city, and this sad and misguided adventure.

And that is how you can have fun in L.A. for under $10.

22 hours, part II

6 am: Alarm goes off, hit snooze twice.

7:20 am: Walk past police cleaning up a nasty car crash on my way to bus stop.

7:35 am: Board 740 bus heading west.
Costumes on the bus:
1 vampire
1 Broadway dancer (in a dry cleaning bag)

8:23 am: Step off bus in West LA.

8:37 am: In a doctor’s costume at my desk with Aireborne in a cup of hot water.

11:10 am: Receive an email that says my paper’s accepted to a conference in Phoenix in February.

12:37 pm: Serve my favorite kale salad at office Halloween party luncheon.

6:07 pm: Say goodbye to colleagues and stop in kitchen to grab my leftover kale and chat in Spanish with the cleaning woman who insists I'm blonde. I think about what I’ll be wearing later.

6:18 pm: Run to catch 704 heading east. Because of the West Hollywood street fair, the bus has to take a detour down Robertson to Beverly and then back up to Santa Monica via Fairfax.
Costumes on the bus:
1 gypsy
2 devils
1 unidentified bat antenna person
1 rabbit
1 Earl Hickey
1 green bean
1 Marx glasses with non costume mullet
1 pumpkin
1 fake eyebrows and moustache
1 Bob Dylan
1 Joan Baez
1 Carebear
1 Dorothy Gale

7:10 pm: I help one of the devils find her stop. She complains about how rude LA people are and disembarks at Santa Monica and Vermont.

7:14 pm: Step off the bus and walk home, past some teenagers dressed as witches and goblins. No sign of the crash at that intersection; it's as if nothing ever happened.

8:16 pm: My costume transformation into Dr. Barbie is complete, including blonde wig, white lab coat, pink stethoscope and surgical mask.





9:18 pm: Enter El Rey in costume. There’s a Jimi Hendrix standing outside near the ropes. I planned ahead and took the expensive pen I usually carry out of my purse so that it’s not taken away from me at security as it always is at this place. Head into the theatre and the Black Angels are already playing. I affirm this is one of my favorite bands. I stand next to two guys also in doctor costumes. They say they’re plastic surgeons and I point to the Barbie nametag on my coat. They laugh. As Roky Erickson is playing a short woman standing beside me grabs me around the waist and rubs the top of my head affectionately. After the encore, I split as fast as I can to beat traffic.

12:19 am: Enter party up in Nichols Canyon. There’s a guy sitting outside on a retaining wall vomiting and a Dial-a-Ride in the street out front. The invite had said no one would be let in after midnight, but another guy in a doctor’s costume at the gate tells me he doesn’t live there and welcomes me into the garden area. The place is crowded, with many girls in skimpy costumes. I find my friend who’s gotten her beaded purse stuck in her fishnets. A guy dressed as Michael Phelps untangles it. A man with fake breasts asks me for a mammogram.

1:02 am: I see Lance Bass in the crowd in the outdoor area. He’s dressed in a graduation cap and gown. Not sure it’s him but the sighting is later confirmed.

1:46 am: Against my better judgment, I play a game of Twister and then sing Pat Benatar karaoke.

2:28 am: Leave the party, heading east. Get stuck in traffic on Hollywood boulevard.

3:30 am: Arrive home and snack on leftover kale salad. Put my wig back into the closet until next year.

4:14 am: Glance at the clock as I turn off the lamp on my bedside table. I think about my morning yoga class, the farmer’s market and the potluck I’m going to tomorrow – and look forward to another full day in LA.