Recently in Los Angeles Category
I guess I have been pretty busy lately, and therefore I have only been updating my blog when my friends are doing things. Since I haven't updated in more than three weeks, I guess that means I need more friends! Ha ha ha. I'm hilarious.
Anyway, for those of you who are in Los Angeles at any time this summer and are looking for something to do on the weekend, let me suggest you check out Cabaret at the Morgan-Wixson theater in Santa Monica. Cabaret is a great musical, and it stars my good friend Hannah Campbell in the lead role as Sally Bowles. It's been a long time since I have been in a musical, but I can still appreciate all the hard work that goes into it. I'm looking forward to it, especially since it's possible to buy the tickets online meaning you don't have to guess which seats you are getting the night of the show.
You don't have a lot of room in the trunk. Yes, I know it doesn't matter in this picture since the top is up, but you think that somebody who could afford a vanity plate like this could afford a slightly bigger car for those times when he needs to move his stuff. I hope his golf clubs are wearing their seatbelt.
I googled "Los Angeles Big Chair" and came up with this site. According to the website:
Artist Giancarlo Neri directed us to info on a chair created by the company Promosedia in Manzano, Italy -- 60 ft. tall. A slightly smaller version provided by Promosedia, touting the "Chair District" of Friuli, Italy, stands at the entrance of the LA Merchandise Mart, 1933 S. Broadway, Los Angeles, California. America has lost its giant chair edge!
My day job at UCLA is fairly uneventful. I fix some computers, send a few e-mails, fix some computers, watch the Mariah Carey video, fix some...you get the idea. Most of the students are gone on spring break, attempting to remove everything they have learned in the last ten weeks through a methodical process of sun, tequila, and wet t-shirt contests, but that doesn't mean the campus doesn't have surprises.
I was grabbing some lunch the other day, and I thought I saw somebody who looked like Michael Dukakis. I must confess, my first thought was, "Wait, is Michael Dukakis dead, or is that the other guy?" Quickly remembering that it was the other guy who passed, I realized I was at that moment, closer to a Governor of Massachusetts than I had ever been. I was still a little skeptical (as if the eyebrows weren't a dead giveaway) until I heard the voice. It was Michael Dukakis!
I wanted to quickly think of something humorous to say like, "Hi, I'm Mitt Romney, no, the other one!", but didn't want to interrupt the eager future Lewis Rothschild from gleaning all the political knowledge he could while his mentor declined peppercinis on his wrap (a crude mockup of which I provide for you above). Besides, it looks like Mike comes back every winter to drop some knowledge in Westwood, so I'll just stalk him in the sandwich line in '09 instead.
UPDATE: Another Michael Dukakis sighting today (3/27/08). Sitting outside, eating an apple. Maybe next time, he'll have his cousin with him...
Every now and then, I come across a vanity plate that actually makes sense. I went on a hike with a friend who was walking her dog at Fryman Canyon and while I waited in the parking lot (why do girls always make you wait?) I spotted this plate on an FJ cruiser. I say it makes sense because it looks like the car was fitted with all the requisite gear for a weekend at Big Bear. The driver still could have been a poseur, but at least they got the look down.
Now that one may make sense, but this one has got me completely baffled. I do know that it was not Keifer Sutherland.
I got the afternoon off of work today, my thanks for putting in some extra time this past Tuesday for the Art History Department. The only thing I had to do to finish off my week was drop something off at DHL, but figured there was some place in West Hollywood I could that. I was shipping an old iBook I had to somebody, so I figured the place I usually use would have DHL pickup. Turns out that was not the case, as they are now a UPS Store, and I guess DHL can go fuck themselves.
I had to get a haircut, so I decided to use my trusty iPhone to see where the next nearest DHL location was while Chelsea was doing her thing. Luckily, there was a location in the neighborhood that looked like it would work perfectly. See, it's a postal center, and more! And as a bonus, it is owned and operated by Mary R. Gonsalves. How can I lose? Well, it turns out that Mary is exceedingly cheap. The box already had the shipping paid for, but to seal the return, I needed some tape. I asked Mary if she would tape it up for me, and she said I could buy tape. I don't mind paying for somebody to box the thing up, but I only needed to seal one end of a box that was less than six inches long. Should I really be forced into buying 15 yards of tape just for that box?
I pleaded with Mary, and deep down, I thought that anybody who would plaster pictures of Rip Taylor around their place of business couldn't be that bad, but Mary proved me wrong. I said I already had the box, but just needed some tape. She said "I am here to provide a SERVICE! You don't pay me. DHL doesn't pay me. How do I run a business like that!?" OK Mary, calm down. At this point, I didn't mind paying for tape, but what was I going to do with 15 yards of tape? So, I asked Mary if I could buy one foot of tape off of her roll. Mary boxes things for other people, but she wouldn't sell me tape. I said "OK, I am sorry." She pointed the tape out to me, and I said "Thank you." and walked out the door. What the fuck. I wonder if Rip Taylor knows that his image is being used to help this woman sell lazy bastards rolls of unnecessary tape. Her investment in some free tape, which might end up costing her $.01 might have turned into more business for her, but what do I know? She has been in West Hollywood for 19 years.
Thankfully, the iPhone found another place for DHL, and it was on my way to Rock and Roll Ralph's. Mister Mail was awesome. I walked in, said I needed to drop a package off for DHL. They said "Sure!" and when I handed it to them, they said "Would you like us to tape it up for you?". I said "Please!" and "How much do I owe you?". They said "Oh, nothing." like I was some retard for even asking. Their service was so refreshingly great compared to Mary that Mister Mail is going to become my official pack and ship location from now on.
Thanks Mr. Mail! Go to hell Mary!
I saw this site linked to from another blog and I immediately fell in love. This sort of completely worthless analysis of everyday objects is the type of thing I really enjoy. I always pass this check-cashing place on my way to the gym, and you can tell it used to be a KFC on the outside. I never took a picture, but always thought it was hilarious and literally thought to myself, "Do they think people won't notice they are getting their checks cashed from the colonel?".
Anyway, http://www.notfoolinganybody.com/ holds many examples of "bad conversions of storefronts past" including the picture included above, which is also on my way to the gym. Yes, Exaco. And they don't sell gas which really makes you wonder why they used the name. It looks like the site has gone stale, even if the front pages says something different. Still amusing though, and I'll be looking for more bad conversions wherever I go.
Another morning drive in Los Angeles, another silly vanity plate. I have no idea why this guy (and it was a guy) thinks he's "2 fly". Perhaps it's because he is saving the earth by driving a hybrid. All I know is that I have had Offspring in my head all day.
It may be shallow, but I try to avoid the homeless at all costs. Part of it is because I don't feel like giving them cash is really going to make a huge difference in their lives, but mostly because of the smell. While killing a little time this morning (I enjoyed the AT&T WiFi at Coffee Bean for a few hours, but realized Borders had better seating and more convenient access to a power outlet), a homeless woman sat next to me. Her shirt was a little more transparent than it needed to be (although the large guy from Australia sitting across from her doesn't seem to mind that there is no bra hiding her nipples) but she didn't smell any more than the average cab driver. She got some books out and decided to take some notes from them, giggling as she got to a particularly humurous portion. And what made her laugh so much? Ancient Egypt and The Complete Idiot's Guide to The Bible. I guess it's true what they say: 1st Corinthians really brings down the house.
This year, I decided to go as Reggie Jackson. I think I did a pretty good job. Although some of my friends were skeptical about the number of people in Los Angeles that would recognize me, I got a lot of comments when I went out on Saturday.
I know that you have all been following my exploits over on Gridskipper. They include posts on public golf courses, best football bars, and places for a good microbrew. I am going to do comedy clubs this week or next, and dog parks are coming up soon as well.
So, I am still blogging at Gridskipper, at the grueling pace of one post per week. If you haven't looked in a while, you are missing such insightful posts as the Posh and Becks Tour of Los Angeles and my take on the Yogur Wars going on in Los Angeles.
Update: Yes, that should read yogurt wars, thanks for being so understanding and tender LQ.
