validated stupidity

There's a reason that self-check out lanes haven't appeared in Los Angeles (they were in my shitty suburb in Maryland at least a year ago). People here are just--on average--too stupid to operate them.

I had a Larry David moment today while waiting in line to validate my parking ticket at the movie theater where Allie and I had just seen Match Point. All you do is stick your ticket in the machine (there's a bigass arrow pointing which way for the easily confused), but yet the line was long and taking forever. Of course I'm freaking out because my three-hour free period is nearly up. So naturally it takes the person in front of me forever to work the stupid machine. Then we realize that she is trying to validate her movie stub! So I show her my ticket and say, "You have to have one of these." I said it in a rather curt tone, which wasn't intended, but yeah I was mystified by the stupidity. She didn't appreciate my tone and gave me some sarcastic crap about being nice and on the escalator down told me I was rude. I told her, "C'est la vie. I'm sorry." But I'm not. If you're stupid enough to wait in line to validate a movie ticket stub, you deserve that sort of public ridicule. However, I didn't set out to be mean, it just sort of happen in my disbelief of the situation.

Illustrating how this is not the only moron in the vicinity, it also took us forever to get out of the parking garage at Santa Monica and La Brea in West Hollywood where we had just had the most incredible BBQ at Zeke's Smokehouse. It must have been three people in a row that couldn't figure out how to put their ticket in the machine to exit the thing and had to beep to get the attendant's attention.

What the hell is it with people out here? They just want to feed my ego in the intelligence quarter. Of course I do my share of stupid things, but rarely do they impede other people's efforts to accomplish their business.

year-end round up in mexico

I guess you're wondering why the hell I haven't been blogging. It's not like I've been sitting around doing nothing. Maybe I haven't blogged because I've been spending time with most of my blogging audience? I don't know, but Allie has been here since I last blogged and she'll be here until the morning of the 6th. We're having a good time. We've seen a lot of movies, we've seen some relatives, we've seen a few museums, and we've seen less traffic than I was expecting. We even saw a celebrity. We saw Hector Elizondo at the Getty.

On Thursday we went to Mexico. We drove from L.A. to Coronado (San Diego) to meet Nadereh and Jeff, my dear friends from Maryland. Nadereh was my seventh grade world studies teacher, believe it or not! The four of us and Nadereh's sister, drove to the border, parked, and walked across for a day of fun in Tijuana. We crossed the border to be greeted by too many cabbies. One of them sold us on the idea of spending our time, not in Tijuana, but in Rosarito and Puerto Nuevo. So we went. I'm glad I went, but to be honest, I don't plan to return to Baja California anytime soon. It is a very depressing to visit along with all the tourists. I remarked, "I want to see Mexicans." It's not a comfortable experience, and I don't feel like I'm helping anyone with my presence. Allie and I didn't buy a thing, because nothing interested us.

Actually, I nearly bought a container of Mexican jumping beans, which reminds me of one of our trips to Disney World via car where I got some at a pit stop.

Other fun adventures include Allie having her first sip of (my) beer.

We all got a kick out of this T-shirt. It reminded me of Tim, who has promised to give me data on his experiments with magnum XLs.

This is what the (vehicular) border crossing looked like. Thank god we were on foot!

All photos by Allie.* All captions by me. And remember you can click the photo for a larger image.

*I need to properly credit the "beer" photo. You aren't experiencing technical difficulties. The subject of the photo wasn't happy with her public posting, so I've swiped this image by John Waters. He won't mind.

nada surf v. supergrass

What is this bullshit? How could both Nada Surf and Supergrass be returning to L.A. on the same and only night (February 22)?! (Yeah, at different venues.) There should be some rule about not allowing this kind of dueling of out-of-town bands that attract the same people.

I'm leaning heavily toward Nada Surf at the moment. I've seen Supergrass in full concert last year and then recently acoustically at Amoeba. I've only seen Nada Surf play "Always Love" twice at the Late Late Show. But the ticket price may ultimately be the dealbreaker. Yeah, I'm cheap like that.

"in washington, you're innocent until investigated"

I saw Syriana this afternoon at the Los Feliz 3. I love that theater. You freeze your butt off, but matinees are only $4.50! Good movie and it fuels my oil conspiracy theories even more.

Here's what I got a kick out of: George Clooney's character encouraging his son to go to the University of Maryland because he has residency there. I seriously did a thumbs-up in the theater.

There is a scene involving George Clooney and William Hurt that supposedly takes place in Rockville, Maryland (it's labeled as such), but I assure you that was not Rockville! They walk into the parking lot and it's clearly a mall with a Macy's and an IKEA across the street. My money is on the mall and now massive shopping complex at White Marsh, which is north of Baltimore. Further evidence to suggest this includes a shot of Clooney driving on a highway, which appears to be I-695 (Baltimore's Beltway). I can't be certain about that, but I know it's in the Baltimore area rather than D.C. because one of the signs said Route 1 (Bel Air Rd.). Yeah, that's Baltimore's territory. But my god I got giddy seeing my (homeland) metropolitan area on the screen.

tv's craig ferguson

Do you remember when I posted with such enthusiasm about attending the Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson a couple weeks back? Well, Anna and I went, and then neither of us blogged about it even though we had a good time. We sat in the front row, yet nothing more than the tops of our heads could be seen on camera.

We learned some TV-show taping secrets, though. They tape the bands first. They made Nada Surf play "Always Love" twice (I don't know why). The drummer (Ira Elliot) was insanely sexy (i.e. exactly my type), and the warmup guy stole my lines about that. Then I made some silent commotion about Matthew Caws (frontman) cleaning up his stuff. This is TV, and the guys have to pick up after themselves?! John Waters was great as always.

Once the show finished taping, we had a surprise. Craig left to change, and upon his return we taped the Michelle Yeoh segment that was to air on Thursday. I happened to be up on Thursday so I put the show on. I felt badly for that day's audience. They got to see his monologue and some ridiculous magician since the big star (and first guest) was taped on Tuesday.

But the actual point of this blog is to direct you to an article in tomorrow's L.A. Times Magazine on TV's Craig Ferguson. Here's the irony: the article is about him reinventing the late-night monologue, yet I thought his monologue on Tuesday was disappointing, it may have even sucked. He was also trying to argue that You've Got Mail is about internet dating. Trust me on this, it isn't.

bravery schmavery

Here's an article that's dead on about Hollywood Homophobia. Read it.

let's have an alternative porn party

So I stumbled across this article in the Los Angeles Times on a local (yeah, city- rather than Valley-based) auteur that makes alternative porn. I bet this kicks Sweet Action's ass in the hipster porn world. That magazine (porn for alternative girls) was a total disappointment. I say we rent a couple of these films and have a porn party in my living room. Who's coming?

what happened to my beatles tattoo?

Look what I discovered this afternoon when I hopped in my car to run an errand or two. Someone vandalized my bumper! [No, they didn't spray paint the license plate. I did that digitally, duh.] Who the fuck would steal part of my Beatles sticker? Look at how cleanly it was severed, I can't imagine that it peeled off and disappeared as I was driving. Now I'm faced with filling this big hole in such a prominent spot. I don't even know where to find stickers in L.A. I've ordered stuff from Northern Sun, but eh, I'd rather go and pick them out. I also desperately need to find a new "Talk is cheap, free speech isn't" sticker, because it's seen better days [it didn't make it in the photo].

But this adds new complexity to the whole tattoo issue. I'm having serious second thoughts about doing it now or ever. What the hell do I need a tattoo for? My bumper is where I display stuff, the bumper is tattooed. And more people see the bumper than would ever see my tattoo.

rethinking sprawl

I'm a city person. I just happen to have lived my whole life (until August) in the suburbs. Since then I have technically taken up residence in a city, but one people (including myself) often scuff at for its suburban leanings. But let me tell you, once you've lived in Los Angeles, there are some clear distinctions between city and suburb out here. That's not to say that there aren't tons of places that blur the line. It isn't so much the density factor, but instead the design and streetscape. As soon as I cross into Glendale from Silver Lake through Atwater Village, I know I'm in the suburbs and it turns my stomach.

Anyway, check out this article from yesterday's Los Angeles Times on Sprawl: A Compact History by Robert Bruegmann which counters anti-sprawl rhetoric with a historical perspective on the origins and purposes of sprawl. I actually know Bruegmann; we were co-panelists at the recent SACRPH conference (the only two papers to show up for our panel).

As a suburban hater, it's definitely something to think about. I restrict my scholarship to urban living and phenomenon but that doesn't mean that I'm not acutely aware of the suburbs. You can't have (or investigate) one without the other. As much as I loathe suburban living, I want people to take on that life so I can have a more pleasant experience in the city. And I don't need no stinking country house! We all know my idea of nature is a manicured city park.

what were you wearing?

Isn't it funny how you can read one sentence in an article and want to discredit the whole thing? This is what caught my attention:

"The mood at the lecture was electric, with architects in black turtlenecks and historians in tailored suits popping from their chairs with ideas."

Now I know this journalist wasn't there. Historians don't wear tailored suits.

it's official...

I hate eggs. I said it. They're disgusting. I never liked yokes and had been whites only for years. Now I can't even take the egg whites. I've been disliking them for awhile now (and it started out of the blue), but today it officially jumped the fence to hate.

I still like certain things made with eggs: ice cream (custard style is), custard, cakes, waffles, pancakes, etc. But if it is actually mostly egg, don't think I'm going to touch it.

Isn't that funny how you suddenly hate something you've eaten your whole life? Why is that?

shameless band promotion alert: the bonapartes (who else?)

One place where I never fail to embarrass myself and still don't seem to mind is in the promotion of certain bands. Okay, within the last six or seven months, it's been one particular band. The vast country that separates us physically does not stop me. Maybe it's my attempt to give them bicoastal popularity. Come on, you know The Bonapartes would fucking rock all the cool places like Spaceland, The Echo, and dare I say The Troubadour. There are enough hipsters in these parts to propel them to legendary heights (you know, for a small, cool band with Napoleonic ambitions).

So do me this favor (well, favors): read the article I've linked you to above, buy the EP starting the 17th (will be available on their website for the undervalued price of $5), and for god's sake, if you live in the D.C. area go to The Black Cat on Saturday, December 17 (they start the show at 9:30 p.m.). You know I wish I was there, but alas I will send an ambassador who will debrief me upon her arrival at LAX a couple of days later (of course, there will be phone conversations preceding this, but that just sounded cooler).

--END OF PSA--

embarrassed? me?

I can't figure out why I'm fearless in embarrassing myself in some ways but not in others. I just returned from moving my car from one side of the street to the other ('tis street cleaning day for the western half of the street), but this is not an event that requires dressing. Who the hell is going to see me zip around? Well, I guess I didn't anticipate parking closer to Sunset than my apartment, did I? At least three people (including my landlord) saw me in quite a, well, embarrassing state. I have scary hair, scary untreated/uncovered pimples (the dry air is forcing some overworking of those oil glands and the results are just frightening), a massively-oversized T-shirt--sans bra, of course--and cropped pajama pants that, no, do not match the shirt. This should be absolutely mortifying since there's a good likelihood that the people who saw me in this scary state will see me again in a not-so-scary state. That should be embarrassing. But, no, I've done it before and I'll do it again. I just can't get up the courage to possibly embarrass myself to death in public places with the opportunity to snag men. What gives?

inversion theory

It was suggested to me by a recently-acquired wise friend that I should try inversion tactics to attract men. In other words, rather than go to places where I am comfortable and more or less fit in, I should go to places where I am out of my element. This would truly showcase my unique qualities if I'm the only or one of a handful of my type rather than in a place surrounded by others like me (as if that is truly possible!). But where the hell should I go? The complete opposite of the places I frequent would be the ultra-trendy Hollywood places, probably where I'd see more celebrities than real people, but let's face it, I'm not going to be able to get into such a place should I even get the nerve to attempt it. So what else is left? Hell, I think a divey place like the Smog Cutter (site of the infamous karaoke rubbing) probably qualifies.

What do you think? I'm open to suggestions. And while we're at it, I desperately need tips on good tattoo parlors or how to locate them. Allie arrives in two weeks!

it's snowing, but not where i live

I have officially missed my first snow fall. God it's great to be in the land of sunshine at a time like this. Nevermind I still can't handle all the sunshine nor the dry air.

And I know you're all dying to know... No, I don't miss the snow one bit. Seriously. I've lived my whole life in seasons. It was time for a change.

living in l.a. is the best!

Last night I was trying to go to sleep and was up way past my bedtime. For once I remembered to switch on The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson. I missed the monologue, but made it in time for an email and skit before the first guest. It was absolutely hilarious! Then Dennis Quaid came out. I never before thought he was particularly attractive. But oh my god, he was hot. He looked so skinny, so rocker-like, and smiling broadly. I, of course, noticed a big wedding band which reminded me that he remarried. Oh well, but he's got a band (Dennis Quaid and The Sharks) who play around L.A. a lot. hmmmm...

Now to the cool part. I know you were all waiting for that. Seeing the show last night reminded me to check the website to see if they've scheduled who will be on when Allie is in town, because we plan to go to a taping again. Nothing for late December yet, but I noticed that Tuesday, December 13 is going to feature John Waters, David Steinberg (not sure who that is; he may be from Willow), and Nada Surf! Could I ask for a cooler show right now? I'm completely obsessed with Nada Surf's new album (listening to it now and when this was discovered). I've already confirmed my tickets. Anna and (hopefully) Mark will be with me. We're going to dress well so look for us in the front, baby!

magnum update

So none of my male readers wanted to comment on the magnum question, even with harassment.

But I have it on good authority that one of the men who was too embarrassed to buy magnums even though he felt that regular condoms "strangled" his member has done it. And yes, there's a difference. He reports that it slides on easier, feels really good in the process, and stays on just fine. When asked if he was still embarrassed to buy them knowing they work, he responded, "well, I'm not going to say they work, not yet, lab conditions are no match for the real world." So stay tuned for further confirmation.

I'm always glad to help friends' sex lives. In the meantime, Trojan should give me one of those lucrative endorsement deals.

happy birthday, woody!

This article deeply offends my poststructuralist sensibilities by trying to canonize Woody Allen, or worse yet, give some sort of canonic comparison among directors. Alas, while film is a very postmodern art form these days, its critics are not.

Regardless, it's a good piece that praises Allen rightly as one of the greatest American filmmakers. He's certainly one of my favorites as part of my holy trinity that also consists of Albert Brooks and Larry David (solely for Curb Your Enthusiasm). I don't know that I quite agree with LaSalle's hierarchy of Allen's films, but it's a good enough rough sketch for me to use to promote him to you.

Don't tell me you've never seen a Woody Allen film. I think I talked to someone out here in lalaland that hadn't seen any. Oy vey.

goodbye to the gekko

Today was the last day of classes for my first semester at USC. (Tomorrow is technically the last day of classes for those of you keeping tabs on absolute accuracy.) Amazing how it's blown by.

It was also the last day of class with The Gekko. Oh how I'll miss his spiffy suits. He didn't wear one today, either, which was sort of disappointing. He is the most likeable conservative on the planet, I'm convinced. He's completely self-aware and plays it to his class. He also teaches for free (donates his salary to charity). He also said something today that made me feel like we were kindred spirits (ironically, though the connection isn't). In telling some story about something I can't recall, he said that coming from the east coast he'd thought of the ultimate oxymoron as the L.A. bookstore (i.e. people in L.A. don't read and therefore don't need bookstores). My sentiments exactly! The number of bookstores I know of can be counted on one hand. Which is why, in some ways, it's quite ironic that Borders is the big anchor for the Sunset/Vine shopping complex.