Archive for August, 2008

Bureau of Monday Revitalization – A call to arms.

Certain Someone and I were emailing back and forth about the awesomeness of Los Angeles street art. We started on a conversation about the Space Invaders that are around town. The Space Invaders, for those of you who aren’t in the know, are both awesome and simple [which makes them more awesome]. And sure, I am no artist [believe me, I even sucked at art in the first grade…like, when all we had to do was dye eggs and cut out hearts and stuff] but fuck, I can do something simple and awesome too!
So I am going to. But I need help. Your help, perhaps?
The Master Plan::
So Mondays suck right? I have previously discussed my hostility towards all things Monday, because, um, Monday is stupid. But Monday does not have to be stupid, people! Monday can be awesome. Monday can be a fun day. A happy day. The new Friday, even.
But Monday needs help. [Your help.]
What I propose is that on early Monday [think 4am] we [the troops] descend upon an unsuspecting Los Angeles block whilst the residents sleep, and make it nice. You know, balloons and streamers and silly gifts and a mother effing pinata! [Because frankly, pinatas make every thing better.] Deck out the block – Monday morning party style. And then, when people leave their homes all grumpy because it is another shit bag Monday only to encounter the awesomeness we created – it will be a happy day instead of a sad day!!
First step towards world peace and lower gas prices? I think so. I am thinking a Monday in mid-October. That should give us enough time for logisticals.
Raise your hand if you are in.

The New Apartment Chronicles: Chapter 4

I spent Saturday in the sweltering heat of Silverlake looking for my next home.  I battled the street closures of Sunset Junction [seriously, I walked up Hyperion at one point which was a HUGE fucking mistake because Hyperion is apparently the most never-ending block in the history of blocks which resulted in my having to walk all the way over to Melrose [fucking Melrose people of Los Angeles!!!  From Sunset!!] before I could walk over to Lucile…which is literally ONE STREET OVER.  I was 10 mad].  I battled my evil shoes which shredded my feet [and made me cry].  I battled hordes of other frenzied apartment seekers.* 
And finally I found THE ONE.  Apparently, so did someone else.  And this someone else must have a fax machine tucked away in their tush because they somehow beat me to it and STOLE [ok fine, not stole, but damn] my apartment out from under me!  So there a 90% chance that I have still not found a place.  But in a last ditch effort, I have written a woe is me email to my future potential landlord asking them to please reconsider because 1) I am awesome, and 2) more importantly, I am willing to pay more than the other joker.  
*  By noon o’clock, I had had enough of apartment hunding.  I still had appointments, but the skin was literally peeling off my feet and dang, it was really hot.  So I called it a day and headed to Sunset Junction for the only thing that would make things better – alcohol.  Once I got to the gates, I learned they only take cash money.  I mean, who carries cash money these days?!  I lost it and called my friends on the Inside and sobbed into the phone:: “I…can’t….take….this.  [sob] [sob]  I. [sob] am going home. [sob].”  Thankfully, they told me to stay put and came to the gate with a crisp American $20.  Day saved. 

Overheard at my backyard BBQ

I hosted a BBQ this weekend for friends, family and a few randoms. One such random, a woman I will call Jane Doe Crazy told the following dating/female insanity tale::
Jane dated a guy on an off for some two years. During the course of these years, she broke up with him AT LEAST TEN TIMES!!! [Note:: After four break-up’s, perhaps one should stick a fork in it. Rule to live by.] She likened her ex-boyfriend to a booger that she simply could not flick off her finger. After their last break-up, she decided that the best thing for her to do to end the cycle was to find him a new gal. [Note:: The best way to end the cycle is to just end the fucking cycle already! Perhaps easier said than done…but by break-up five or six or seven or eight…grow some self restraint Ladies!!!].
Jane then did what no self-respecting ex-girlfriend would do:: She posted a Craigslist ad on behalf of her ex asking the Ladies of the Interwebs to take him off her hands. She read us this ad, and it was just about as batshit as you could expect…and loooong. She mostly touts the ex’s good qualities [bedroom skills, well-endowed, kind, sweet, gentle and generous (these qualities all seem somehow related)] but then filled in the rest with non-veiled jabs about all the ways in which her ex failed her [he is a big democrat – apparently this is a really bad thing].
At this point I am thinking:: What the eff? This chick clearly is in luurve with the her ex still. This will end badly.
It turned out, one lonely Lady of the Interwebs saw this ad and was intrigued. What’s more, Jane’s boyfriend was intrigued back. So Jane’s ex ended up going out on a date with the woman Jane found him via an angry CL revenge ad.
Oh, but wait! It gets better!!!
Several weeks pass, and Jane and her ex are not back together. Jane decided at this point that she must return his stuff at once! [Note:: Ladies, if you have dated a guy for a longish period of time, you can totally keep the “stuff”. You’ve earned it. Also, said “stuff” can not under ANY CIRCUMSTANCE be used as an excuse to see the ex.] She packs up his junk and heads over to his place unannounced. Upon her arrival, she reports that she hears “the giggling of some vapid girl” and so she leaves his stuff on the doorstep and heads home. [Note:: OMG, Ladies, do NOT leave “stuff” on doorway and head home unless this was discussed ahead of time. So creepy. And also, if the “stuff” is so unimportant that it can be left on a Los Angeles doorstep, just throw/gift the shit away and move on.]
THEN – as if this isn’t bad enough – Jane remembered that her ex had some of her stuff that she. had. to. get. back. or. else. So what does she do? What any completely unreasonable semi-stalking ex-girlfriend would do:: she uses the key she still has of his to go to his house the following morning to retrieve her stuff…without telling him of course.
The following morning’s trespass revealed that Jane’s ex had a new woman in his life – and in his bed. And not just any woman, it was THE Lady of the Interwebs that Jane had found for him on craigslist. Upon making this discovery, Jane reported that she said “I really wish you two the best of luck,” tossed ex’s key at the Lady of the Interwebs and said “here, he will probably want you to have this,” laughed, finished retrieving her very. important. stuff. and then left.
The most astonishing part of all is that my fellow listeners seemed to think that this fiasco meant that ex is an ass, the Lady of the Interwebs a whore/bitch, and is Jane hilarious.
But really??!?! WTF. Jane’s ex is well within the Diet Coke Dating Rules to be dating someone else post break-up, never mind someone that Jane practically forced on him. Plus, the Lady of the Interwebs is not a bitch/whore merely for dating a man that once dated Jane!! I mean, gosh, she is just looking for love like the rest of us [granted, maybe in more unconventional places] AND AND AND, Jane used a key she ought not have kept to break into her ex’s house! How is this funny? If one of my ex’s came into my house unannounced to collect some possessions, I would call the po-po. And finally, why post an ad for an ex if you don’t want to the ex to date someone else??!?!?! HELLOOO?????
Lesson Learned:: If you ever come up with a cockamamie plan to get at your ex, remember:: STOP! NO!! DON’T DO IT!! THAT IS A BAD BAD BAD IDEA!!!  Because if you don’t, you will recount your cringe inducing tale to strangers at a BBQ and folks will think you are is nuts.
I leave you with a random awesome song:: Wild Sweet Orange – Ten Dead Dogs

My Artful Day.

I bought this Shepard Fairey print today at Small Bills Gallery at 8200 1/2 W. 3rd St [seriously, it looks much better in person – but Certain Someone’s photography skills are questionable today]::


But let’s back up, is probably what you’re thinking.  You’re probably saying to yourself::  Diet Coke, it doesn’t seem like you often purchase art prints!  And that’s because:: I usually don’t, yo.  It’s just that Certain Someone — fine eye for art, him (and for the lady readers:: quite a piece of fine art himself, and single – email me for his info; he likes you already) — told me about this showing.  And when I arrived, he told me that he had purchased this same print.  And I know that Certain Someone has few talents, but one of his talents is spotting value, so I figured I should try to steal his thunder. 

I ALMOST bought one of the David Browne “Berds” that make me so happy when I drive about town (but see, supra:: wanting to steal Certain Someone’s thunder).  But I am going to save my money for one of these instead::

**  Certain Someone hijacked my blog to go on about how he is “fine art.”  In fact, he is more like a bootleg DVD bought on eBay.  But hey, Ladies, if you are into that kind of thing, he’s your man.  ALSO, despite what Certain Someone says, he did not purchase the print, because they only took cash money – and he didn’t have any!  So he had to put the print on layaway. Ha!  Ha!!  

Kurt is a bad bad man.

My mom, the dearest, sweetest person in the world [seriously, I can’t say enough about what a wonderful person my mom is], called me this morning in utter hysterics.
She explained to me through her tears that she had called a man named Kurt Y.*, the office manager of a certain medium sized Downtown Los Angeles based law firm to discuss a matter.  The office manager told her that he couldn’t understand what she was saying and hung up on her.  My mom understood his comment to mean that he couldn’t understand her English, but then she thought better of it.  Certainly, no semi-major law firm [or any establishment short of the KKK] would allow its employees to speak to people that way, accented or not.  So she called back, thinking the earlier rudeness had to be a result of a bad connection.   This time, Kurt informed her [among some other choice totally bigoted bullshit] that if she wanted to resolve the issue, she would have to have someone who speaks English call him back.**   And then he hung up again.
I decided – as someone who speaks English pretty fucking well – that instead of calling Kurt back, I would send off an email to Kurt copying every name partner in the firm [there are five, one of whom has a name that is clearly not of American origin] telling Kurt how completely inappropriate and detrimental to the firm [and humanity] his behavior is.  And let me tell you, I drafted a beauty of an email.  One that was certain to get Office Manager Kurt in really big trouble, if not axed. 
But then I decided that I don’t want to destroy someone’s life by causing them to lose their job, even if they deserve it.   
I hope Office Manager Kurt knows to thank my English with an accent speaking mother for raising a daughter that won’t be using her native English speaking skills to get him fired for being a complete asshole.
* Name NOT changed to protect identity because this asshat deserves a public shaming. 
** My mother does have an accent [English is her third language, after all].  But still, she is completely understandable.  

The New Apartment Chronicles: Chapter 3

Every time a new apartment appears, I get excited and giddy. Each one sounds so nice. Newly remodeled, hardwood floors, extra cove that can be used as an office or as an extra bedroom, updated bathroom. As I drive to each new prospect, I am certain that the one I am about to see will be The One.

Initially, they each look fine. Maybe even a keeper. But then a closer look quickly reveals the flaws. Lack of parking. Unstable floor boards. Low ceilings. Hardwood style linoleum as opposed to the real deal. NO SPACE FOR MY SHOES!!!

My apartment hunting experience is turning out to be alarmingly similar to my dating experience.

On the plus side, I have decided for sure FOR SURE that I want to live in Silverlake.

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loving, living, driving (badly), laughing, growing, losing, crying, smiling, winning, learning, watching tv, calorie counting and thriving. in LA.


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