Funny Strange is Lori Culwell's blog

WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU, PART TWO

I totally forgot to mention this before, when I was ranting about “WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?”  I am seeing products lately that make me say “WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?” to the companies that are making them, because clearly they are contributing to (or at least enabling) people’s bad choices.  Here are some examples:

--Odor absorbing paint.  Um—ok.  This product reflects the sad and sorry state of America.  What is going on with your life that you need paint that absorbs odor?  Are you a serial killer, and do you need this paint to absorb the dead body smell in your house?   Or—do you have 50 cats, and you need to PAINT YOUR HOUSE to get rid of the smell?    Just—no.  As far as I’m concerned, buying bulk quantities of this paint should automatically trigger a visit (or at least a call) from a social worker.

--Anti-chafing cream.  I think I mentioned that some people look better on the heavier side, but I recently saw a commercial for some anti-chafing cream that FEATURED FAT PEOPLE DANCING, so clearly this is being marketed toward overweight people who are more concerned with the chafing than with the fact that being overweight is bad for your health.  Again, I don’t care what kinds of life choices people make and I know weight is a struggle for people, but deliberately making a product that caters to this feel cynical to me, like maybe the cream is being made by the company that’s also trying to make “high fructose corn syrup” seem ok again so people will eat more of that, or by KFC or McDonald’s with their gallon of sweet tea for just a buck.  Yikes.

--PediaSure, being marketed toward “moms of picky eaters!”   Listen, I don’t have a kid so I don’t want to step on a landmine here, but manufacturing a product for “picky eaters?”  Isn’t that the same as saying “we know you’re annoyed with your kid and don’t have time to work with them to eat food that is good for them or just wait it out, so just let them eat chicken fingers and wash it down with this PediaSure.  You’re fine.”  What irks me about this commercial is actually the line “When her picky eating started to affect her growth and development….my doctor said PediaSure.”  Um—WHAT?  Excuse me for butting in, but why did you let her picky eating get to the point where it started to affect her development?    Aren’t parents supposed to regulate that kind of thing?  And, don’t get all uppity if you have one of these kids, because if you know anything about me, you will not be surprised to learn that I WAS ONE OF THEM.   I was a picky eater when I was a kid, and you know what I got?  A peanut butter sandwich and a Flintstones vitamin, people, and an open invitation to “come back when I felt like eating,” which I occasionally did.   My mom didn’t force me to eat, but she also didn’t buy specially formulated supplements so I wouldn’t have to. 

I’m just saying-- I lived to see adulthood, and eventually I even tried asparagus.   

So, I don’t know if anyone else has the weirdest dreams in the world—not only do I have super weird and detailed dreams, but they always have a narrative structure, and I can remember all of them, and they are very psychedelic, like I’m on drugs, which I am usually not.  The only catch is that I’m like, an even more neurotic version of myself in the dreams, so I’m the ultimate buzzkill, going “THAT’S ILLEGAL” or “PEOPLE WILL BE WORRIED ABOUT THIS,” or “YOU SHOULD STOP DOING THAT.”  For instance, over the weekend I had a particularly strange one that involved an alligator that had been cut in half, and how I was encouraging a total stranger to pick up this alligator, and then use it to get a free Subway sandwich.   See--surreal, then totally practical, like I’m on Salvador Dali’s shoulder going “hey, you know—that clock isn’t going to be able to tell you the right time if it’s dripping like that, man.  Paint it again!”

This all makes perfect sense, right?  Half an alligator will always get you free stuff at Subway.  I also like how I’m still frugal in the dream, even though it’s a dream, and I could be the Emperor of Dreamville and be a Dream Money millionaire.  I swear, sometimes in the middle of the dream, my mind goes all meta and I’m like “you know—you could be flying right now, and instead you’re in Subway trying to use an alligator to get a free turkey sub. That is stupid”    And right there, I laugh at myself.  Then again, Stephan told me recently that he had a dream he switched his bank account to Chase, and in the dream he was like “oh my God—this is so convenient!  There are so many more ATMS in the Chase network!” So maybe I’m not alone in this one.

Here is a sampling:  when I was in grad school, I had this recurring dream where I was reading books, and in the dream I was like “oh my God, this is so great—I am totally going to finish the reading assignment before seminar!”   I was always disappointed when I woke up from that one. Years ago I had one that I was in the middle of the ocean, and Oprah Winfrey was there, and she was making Polynesian boys jump off a pier but there was no way to swim back, and I was like “Hey Oprah, just because you’re Oprah doesn’t mean you can just send those Polynesian boys off the end of that pier with no way to get back.  That’s not right.” 

Because Oprah listens to me in my dreams, ok?  That is how practical I am.    Also, I am totally sure that a psychologist is going to end up reading this post one day and will leave a comment like “dreams like this mean you are crazy.”   Speaking of psychologists, let’s see what Shannon has to say to this post.

Actually, I brought this up because I am actually very interested to see what other people dream about.  What are dreams for, anyway?  Does everyone remember their dreams?   Please, use the comments to enlighten me, or to tell me that half-alligator dreams mean I’m mental.  Either will do.

Because I know you care what I think of Kate Gosselin....

Hey look!  I'm catching up on everything!  Here are a few pop culture related items I actually wrote down over the past couple of weeks:

n  What, what, WHAT the hell with Jesse James and that woman with the tattoo on her face, and with the other whores and strippers with whom he apparently cheated on Sandra Bullock?   When I mentioned this to Stephan, he said “why does this surprise you—that guy seems like such a White Trash bubba, I can’t imagine why he WOULDN’T be a neo-Nazi.”    So, there’s that.   My thing is— he goes from the lovely, smart, and successful Sandra Bullock to the very bottom of the barrel?   He could do better, right?  I mean, don’t cheat on Sandra Bullock in the first place, but if you do it, could you not pick someone better looking and more respectable?  Yuuuuck.

n  Not that this makes any difference, but I have never watched “Dancing With the Stars,” or “American Idol,” or any show that involves performance, because I totally hate watching people be uncomfortable and/ or embarrassed.  Can’t STAND IT.   Also couldn’t watch “Borat,” or some parts of “The Office,” or “Da Ali G show.”  So…incredibly…uncomfortable.  I hate it!   I was going to make an exception to see if Kate Gosselin fell down on Dancing With the Stars last night, but as soon as I tried to turn it on, my skin started to crawl.   Nope—my loathing of Kate Gosselin could not overcome this feeling.   Speaking of Jon and Kate, who knew they’d both become so unlikable, right?  I don’t know who to root for anymore.

n  I must be old, because until he appeared on Saturday Night Live, I had absolutely no idea who Justin Bieber was or why I should care about him.  Here was the conversation between me and the kid who works in my grocery store over the weekend:

o   Me:  “Who’s Justin Bieber?”

o   Store guy:  “Some gay singer.”

As an addendum, I will say that I watched him on Saturday Night Live, and I was not impressed AT ALL.   I do not think that kid is that talented, and I don’t care whose eight-year old I offend with this opinion.  All I can say is, I hope Justin Bieber’s people are investing well.

Toyota Across America!

Toyota has been getting a lot of bad press lately, so I will combine an update as to where I’ve been for the past few weeks with a plug for my Toyota Prius, which I think has now been deemed The Greatest Car I Have Ever Owned.  I don’t care what the media says—I am going to keep driving that car forever, because that’s how much I love it.

And why this love affair with the Prius, you might ask?  Oh, it might have something to do with the fact that yesterday we arrived on the east coast, where we have relocated for at least the next year, and for the past ten days or so, I have been driving, in the Prius, WITH THE DOG, in the winter, across America.  That’s right.  3,000 miles.  In a Toyota.  In winter.  We are here, we are alive, and when I tally up the total that we spent on gas, you will laugh. 

First, the reason:  this move has been a long time in coming, as you may or may not know.  We originally moved to Los Angeles in 2004 for what was supposed to be a year, and ended up staying there for six.  Now, I know some people are all “pro Los Angeles” and they love the weather and would never dream of leaving, but for some reason it just really didn’t work for us, so we started thinking about making a change at the end of last year, and then things kind of fell into place finally, and then—BLAMMO!  I was on the road with a 75 pound arthritic dog.   

In case you’re wondering why we don’t just fly the dog, he’s big, and old, and very sensitive, and because of his size he would have to fly in the cargo hold of the plane, and ….that just really wasn’t going to work for me.  We actually drove him out to California when we moved there in ’04, and he did fine.  So, I knew it could be done, but now he’s even older, and it’s winter, and that is really a lot of factors to factor in when you’re trying to work, and drive, and make sure the dog doesn’t freeze while you run in to get a sandwich.  You know what I’m saying?

“Road trip with large dog during winter”—sounds like the elevator pitch for a wacky comedy where “chaos ensues,” right?  Mostly he does well in the car, sleeping for long periods of time, but I have to say it is very hard to sneak a large dog into a hotel during the winter—most of the nicer chains have a 45 pound weight limit for dogs, so I was forced to become very inventive.    Let’s just say that at one point I covered him up with a Burberry scarf and rushed him out the freight elevator.  No, I am not making this up.  This trip was so long, I have to do the recap in installments, so I will start with the first few days.

So, where did I go?  From Los Angeles I went to San Diego, where I visited friends, saw clients, and tried to recover from moving all the stuff out of my house during a pouring rain storm in Los Angeles, where I got wet, and the movers got wet, and the dog got wet, and I’m not going to lie, there was some crying.  Did you know that you will never be able to accurately estimate the amount of stuff you have left versus the amount of space in your car?  Well, you won’t.  You will have to throw things away at the last minute so that the dog can lay down in the back seat.  That is the law.   So, thank you to Dan and Sarah, and Matt and Jared, and sorry I was so late for dinner.  Did I mention there was a rainstorm and a traffic jam?  Yeah, good times.

Next I moved east to Palm Desert, where I am from and where I wanted to hang out a little before beginning the epic journey.  I ended up staying a few days in my friend Brook’s guesthouse, and I swear I was about to become her Kato Kaelin that place is so nice.   There I saw high school friends, enjoyed the weather, and plotted out the great Toyota Across America trip.

Next installment:  I go to Santa Fe New Mexico and have dinner with a famous person.  You’re dying to know, aren’t you?

Real Estate Makes People Crazy, Volume iii

I have been looking at real estate here in Los Angeles for several months now, in search of the perfect “no one will bother us” piece of property.   If you’re wondering why I’m doing this, I can only explain that we bought our place to be an investment property (not to be the place we were going to live forever) and it’s now ready to become that at any time, I just need to find us a new place to live.   

This is turning out to be more challenging than I thought, unless one of you has a helicopter that Stephan can use to get to work from the top of the mountain where I would like to construct a UNABOMBER-like cabin, because this is what it’s going to take for me to get some peace and quiet in the greater Los Angeles area.   In case you’re wondering, yes, I’ve looked in Calabasas, yes, I’ve looked in Topanga, and yes, I’ve looked in Malibu, and I have been unable to locate something that fulfills everyone’s needs and still enables Stephan to not have a two hour long commute.  Anyone have any ideas?  I would like to live someplace that is like Carmel and has fruit trees, and where I'm not so close to my neighbors I can hear them answering the phone and taking a shower.  Is that asking too much?  

I don’t know why this is taking so long, with the possible exception of the fact that this is Los Angeles, and so everything is still very overpriced and usually comes with some kind of catch, like a celebrity lives next door (NOT A GOOD THING, BECAUSE CELEBRITIES HAVE NO REGARD FOR THE LAW), or the owners of the house request that you move in and that they live in a “guest apartment” in the basement where they promise not to bother you, or some other nonsense that probably sounds just fine when they come up with it, but that makes you roll your eyes and wonder why you even bothered to drive all the way out to look at it in the first place. 

Yes, I know this makes me sound cynical.  But, I DID just say I was looking in Los Angeles, right? Capital of cynicism and douchebaggery and the loud cellphone conversation?    Sometimes, literally, the “catch” is such a catch that I find myself laughing out loud, right there in someone’s living room.

Here are some examples of this phenomenon.  I’m going to try to stay out of trouble by not describing the properties themselves, only the “catches.” 

1.     “Oh, didn’t I mention that our next door neighbors have a kennel?”

2.    “The owner is friends with Olivia Newton John, and when she moved, he bought her bathroom and had it reassembled in his house, piece by piece.”

Note:  I believe that someone needs to tell this realtor (and possibly this owner) that ONJ’s bathroom is NOT a selling point, and in fact, might be a detractor.  But, I am just reporting the facts as I observed them).

3.     Me:  “Wow, that garden is nice.”

The Realtor:    “Oh, that’s actually the neighbor’s garden.  No one ever sees him, but he’s really obsessive about the garden, so the gardener lives on site.”

Me:  “On site like in the house?”

The Realtor:  “No, on site like in the garden.

(I look out the bathroom window to find I am two feet away from the face of the gardener.  He waves.)

4.     Realtor:  “This house used to be owned by a member of the Jackson Family.”

Me:  “You….don’t…..say.”

5.     Realtor:  “The owner is going through a divorce, and so she’s letting her dogs poop in the yard and not cleaning it up on purpose.  You have to try to see past the poop.  And watch your step.”

I'm in the DAMN house, that's who....

Because I swagger like that, today I am the guest blogger over at Where’s My Damn Answer, where I will be discussing how I love absurd things, and how, perhaps because I have a blog called “Funny Strange,” people say weird stuff to me all the time.

Go on over, won’t you?  I think you'll find today's R2D2 related musings to your liking. 

My thoughts on life thusfar, while waiting for a tow truck.

So, oh my God, I don't even know where to start.  On Friday, Stephan and his cousin Josh went on a trip to Argentina.   Don't cry for me because I'm still here-- I couldn't go because I am swamped with work and my UCLA class I'm teaching, and I'm taking the week to get caught up on everything.   From the reports I have gotten, they  are having a wonderful time, eating alot of steak, and carousing late into the night, which is how it should be.     If you want to follow how awesomely the trip is going, you should get him on Facebook, because he doesn't have his phone and for some reason I set his email to go right to his Blackberry and nowhere else, so that's not really happening either.  But, he will be back this weekend, so it's all good.

 

Speaking of computers, next we should talk about my ongoing computer meltdown.  Turns out the PC side of the partition is so virus-ridden I have to COMPLETELY ERASE IT, which means I've spent a good 20 hours or so pulling all the information and work off of it and re-saving all my email.  On the bright side, I discovered that I am the email equivalent of one of those "hoarder" peole that you see on "Obsession," because I literally have email saved from ten years ago.  I cleaned alot of that out over the past couple of days, so that's good.

 

But, dude!  No more PCs!  Never again!  Macs for me from now on, for sure.   Like I said, my only excuse it that when I bought the computer and partitioned it, I didn't think I really had time to set up everything again on a Mac.  Well, now the time has been made for me.  What do you know?  All I need is a slight software upgrade (Tiger to Leopard), which  I attempted to fix get yesterday by taking a trip over the UCLA bookstore.  Sounds promising, right?  It would have been, only while I was there I got a flat tire, so that's pretty much what I did for the rest of the evening instead of fixing the computer.    You ever call for a tow truck at 5:30 pm in Westwood, where the tow truck has to come from the Valley?  Yeah.

 

Because I know you're probably tired of hearing about all this, though, here is a blog post I was working on when the Great Computer Meltdown of 2009 began.   Because my computer melted down and ate it, though, I re-wrote it while I was waiting for the tow truck yesterday.  It started out like all sarcastic, but I'm afraid it might have gone into Garrison Keillor territory.  At any rate, I thought some of it might entertain you, and you can feel free to leave more of your own thoughts in the comments.

 

I don't have a child or a little brother, but I have this blog, so this is where I'm going to share some thoughts I've codified recently about life, and things, and life and things.

 

1.  I think you should probably try to eat a green salad every day.  If you don't, we should maybe talk about your pooping.

 

2.  If you're over 30 and you're a woman, you're done smoking-- even socially.  Sorry. 

 

3.  If you talk to someone you haven't talked to since high school and they ask you what you've been doing this whole time, just pick something and go with it.   Saying "oh, nothing much" is just going to make everyone uncomfortable.  Also, it's probably a good idea if you try not to do anything really stupid at your high school reunions, because that will be the thing that everyone remembers.  Trust me.

 

4.  Try to laugh a little bit every day.  The world is full of totally weird and funny stuff if you're looking.

 

5.  I think it's ok to get really, really mad or annoyed at a person or situation, and to indulge it for about 5-10 minutes.  Then you have to just let it go. 

 

6.  If you have credit card debt, take some extra money every month and make a plan to pay those off.  Not because I said so, but because it feels really good to STICK IT TO THE MAN when you pay your balance off every month and know that when The Man opens the envelope, he's all "WHERE IS MY INTEREST?  I EXPECTED THIS PERSON TO OVERSPEND!"   This fantastic feeling also applies to student loans and mortgages, in case you're wondering.

 

7.  Back up your computer on a portable hard drive.  I have learned this the hard way more than once.

 

8.  If you're going to commit a crime, I say go big.   If you're going to go down, I think you should go "multimillion dollar art heist" as opposed to, say, "knock off a liquor store for a profit of $36."  

 

9.  Try to go out and do something in the world every day, even if (especially if) you work from home.  People will know if you're leading a conference call while wearing your pajamas.

 

10.  There is no excuse for sweatpants. 

 

11.  Try to do something nice for someone else whenever possible, just because it's helpful and it makes you feel good, not because you're expecting to get something. 

12.  The older you get, the more solutions you can think of to problems, and the more money you have to apply these solutions.   Of course, you also have wrinkles from gaining all this experience, but lately it seems like I'd rather be old and smart.

 

13.  Pizza and bacon are delicious, I don't care what anyone says.   Thank God for Lipitor, because I am never going to stop eating these things.

 

14.  I think you should always do a better job than you were hired to do, because lazy people are contributing to the demise of civil society.  I'm serious.  

Look away!

A couple of years ago I was driving somewhere on a Sunday night and happened to catch an episode of that show Offramp, on KPCC.  If you don't live in Los Angeles, you've probably never heard of it-- they do these profiles and segments on "interesting things you probably didn't know about L.A.," and it was the first time I'd ever heard it in my years of living here, so I let it play.

Only, and I'm sure this is already going to start you laughing (at me), this particular night's episode was all about the HISTORY OF THE HEALTH DEPARTMENT'S RESTAURANT GRADING SYSTEM, like why they get A's, and B's, and C's, and how they get shut down, and how before they started this system, the health department was totally on the take and the restaurants were all dirty, and listen, I know I should've turned it off, because like, I don't need another reason not to go to restaurants, ok?   In case you don't know what I'm talking about, I think you should go read this article I wrote a few years ago for Common Ties, all about how I am afraid of food.

But I couldn't.  It was totally, morbidly fascinating to me.  It was all about this investigative journalist Joel Grover, and how he changed the whole system so that it's all open now, and he got all these dirty health inspectors fired, and totally made the world a better place.    It was so fascinating that I listened to the whole thing, THEN I went to the website of the L.A. County Department of Health, just to make sure all the places I like to go got an "A."    Because, just from listening to the report, I got all scared about how awful the place would have to be to get a B rating, and then I started grossing out in retrospect from "B" rated restaurants where I ate before I knew about the rating system.   Like, the La Salsa on the Third Street Promenade got a "B," and I didn't realize it until I was in the middle of eating a burrito one night, and right there, I almost started crying.  This is the power of public radio, people. 

But, back to the website, where they catalog the infractions.  It's actually not as detailed as you might want it to be (for instance, it doesn't say EXACTLY why they got the bad rating, but it does give you a category (like, the restaurant leaves food out too long, or the counters are unsanitary, or the ceiling is leaking RAINWATER INTO THE FOOD, OR THE HEALTH INSPECTOR FOUND A FOREIGN OBJECT OR BUG IN THE FOOD, OR THEIR SEWAGE SYSTEM IS BACKED UP INTO THE FOOD PREPARATION AREA, OR THEY LEAVE SEAFOOD OUT FOR TOO LONG.

<pause for screaming>

Yeah, that's about how long I last on the website before I'm all tweaky, like "Oh my GOD, what did they do, specifically?" so I know if I should avoid the place forever, or just until they get re-inspected.  Also, I'm very on the fence about a place that has an "A" rating, but they got a score of 90.  That's one point from a "B," ok, and as I'm sure you've probably gleaned from my previous writing about my obsession with food germs, now I won't even WALK IN THE DOOR of a place that doesn't have an "A."  Another example, we went to the Laemmle Theater in Santa Monica to see "Slumdog Millionaire," and for some reason their concession stand (where you buy the popcorn) has a "B."  Not only did I refuse to buy anything, even a soda, from that concession stand, but I seriously was staring at the four guys behind the counter thinking "Why are you all not cleaning every available surface right now, with bleach, in case I am the health inspector?"    I told all this to Stephan, and he told me that usually he tries to eat at places with A's or B's, but that once, when he was volunteering for the last presidential election (the one in 2004), he ate downtown at a place that had a "C," and he didn't notice until he was on the way out.

I think you can only imagine the rapid pace at which I would have driven myself to the hospital if this situation had happened to me.    Apparently they won't even GIVE you a grade if you score below 70.  So, "C" is really the lowest you can go before you're just about out of business. 

I know, I should have turned it off.  And, I DEFINITELY shouldn't have gone to the website.  On the bright side, now there are a few places (a very few) that I feel totally comfortable eating because they got such high grades, and a few places that I know never to go into, under any circumstances. 

....aaaannd, we're back.

 Whoa-- two whole weeks went by!  Did you notice?    If you were sad and morose in my absence and had to listen to the Smiths, I do apologize.  I should really have warned you that I was going on vacation, to try to grow back the writing bones that I broke by overworking during 2008.   Miraculously, my mind seems to have sorted itself out while I was unplugged in Carmel for the Best Vaction of All Time, and so here I am again, with words, and pictures, and a new banner, and Twitter!  How you like them apples?  Crunchy, huh?  That's right.

But, before I leave the subject of just how much I needed a vacation, um-- did everyone else feel as burned out as I did at the end of the year?   I don't know if it was all the deadlines, or the 100 yard dash toward Christmas, or trying to remember to pack all the medications for the arthritic dog for two weeks of being away, but let's put it this way-- by the day after Christmas I had developed a severe case of vacation narcolepsy, wherein I could read one article from the stack of New Yorkers I'd been saving, and then I would go right to sleep.  I know, some of you are going to blame this condition on the length and depth of those sprawling New Yorker pieces, but I don't think it was that.    I think I was just crispy fried done, and now I feel like I can once again get by with only a regular amount of sleep, as opposed to my required twelve to thirteen hours during vacation times. 

Anyhow, I don't really make New Years' Resolutions because I really try to make an effort to do the best I can with my life all year long (I'm not even just saying that.  I am totally serious), but one thing I will NOT be doing this year is giving up meat, as I tried becoming vegan for one month in 2008, and (with apologies to Kathy Freston), it was the worst!  For one thing, bacon is delicious, and I'm sorry-- I know that pigs are sentient beings, and I really try to make an effort to eat organic, but....WHY IS BACON SO GOOD?  And steak?  And carne asada?  I'm not even kidding.  I eat these things every day, and I don't even feel guilty.

I actually put a pretty decent effort into it- like, I went to Whole Foods, got a bunch of meat alternatives (like Quorn, which I consumed totally without irony), and was trying to be serious about it.  I also was a vegetarian in grad school, though I must admit this was mostly financial, as I made $8,000 in one year and couldn't really allow myself to even consider things like steak.  During grad school I also ate generic cereal with names like "Confruity Crisp" that forced me to give up irony in a similar way.  Oh, also-- I lived on $20 a week, and if I spent more than that, I couldn't afford to WASH MY CLOTHES.  So, maybe I associate the lack of meat with being really poor, who knows.  Oh, I was also dating a guy who was a vegetarian, and that probably had something to do with it. 

Anyhow, a few weeks into the Vegan Experiment I noticed I was weak and shaky all the time, even though I totally take enough iron in my vitamins every day.  And, I happened to really notice this on a Sunday, which is when we always go to this awesome carne asada place in El Segundo.  And, I was going to be good and get a bean burrito, but then I figured that the beans probably had lard in them anyway, which is made of animal fat....and... so I got the carne asada burrito I always get, and I was all prepared to feel crappy and be like "ha-- now I get it!  I feel the cosmic enlightenment of not being full of animal flesh!" 

But, guess what?  I felt like freaking SUPERMAN.  I was high on meat for the next day and a half.  I was productive, and happy, and I know this makes me a bad person and unenlightened and all, but I just wanted to let you know that if you read Quantum Wellness and tried to become a vegan for your New Year's resolution and have already failed, you're not alone, man.  I.  LOVE.  MEAT.

"I love meat" is a really good way to end my first blog of the new year, don't you think?  I'm happy with it.  I think "I love meat" is going to be my new catchphrase. 

A Week of Firsts!

So, ok, let’s just start the week off with a recap of some things I did last week.  I’m all about “trying new things” now that I’m not being crushed by deadlines anymore, so I actually took a Pilates class (interesting….not my favorite, but at least now I know what they do with those big machines), crossed the east/ west Los Angeles divide to have lunch with a friend I haven’t seen in a long time (totally worth it!), had a reading of the screenplay of my novel (go Stephan and Mike-- much more about that at a later date), watched some season premeires, and (wait for it), had dinner at a place I once furiously mocked.

That’s right.  On Wednesday night we went to a birthday party at….Pink Taco.

Pink Taco.  Oh, you haven’t heard of it?  Well, I myself thought it was a joke name for a restaurant when I first saw it, and it turns out that not only is it a real place (as well as a euphemism), but….I am sorry to say that they actually have pretty good food, despite their screaming lack of irony during naming.  Of course, the whole place is like the Mexican food version of Hooters, and they totally meant it with the double-entendre name (their slogan is something like “Your favorite place to eat out”), and the required outfit for the waitresses is a hot pink tank top that emphasizes how totally smart they are, if you know what I mean. 

Anyhow, when we were there, perhaps because the universe knows I write this blog, guess which football teams were playing?

Oh yeah—it was The Beavers vs. The Trojans at old Pink Taco the other night.  I’m going to just let the jokes write themselves, because they do.   I thought I might burst into flames at one point when a guy started hitting me by telling me that his necklace was "the symbol from the NeverEnding Story," and I was in Pink Taco watching the Beavers vs. The Trojans, and like, no one but Stephan and I were really getting how funny this all was, because people in L.A. are serious about their happy hour pick-up joints, ok?  Who was I to judge?  And now I'm sure you can see why I've never been to Cabo Cantina.   There was also a drive by hitting on/ groping that happened on the way out, where a swarthy guy "bumped into me," then kind of checked in to see if, like, I was maybe ok with more of the same and was disappointed to find out that a) I'm not available b) I was leaving, and c) I had irony, and was therefore a stranger in a strange Pink Taco land. 

By the way, I’m not going to recommend that you go and check out the website for Pink Taco, because even though they have enough money to have a bunch of restaurants, all they could shell out for in the website department was a funky, all in one frame,  nothing on the homepage-having, mostly Flash monstrosity that’s not doing them any favors.  I know, I’m totally bagging on people’s websites lately, but what the heck, Pink Taco?  Why you gotta have a website that pushes a pdf of your menu right from the homepage?   That is not even right, and I want you to know it.  Add these guys to the list of people who should have let me do their website, because I would have done it better.   Like, no “Pink Taco in the News” section?  No “Legend of Pink Taco?”  No pictures of the pink taco girls?  Give me a break.   Oh, ok—you can go over there and take a look, and then maybe email them and tell them they need to redesign. 

So, how was your weekend?  This week I am possibly finishing a renegade freelance project, am starting a graphic design class, and am finally getting a new drain pan for “Operation Air Conditioning.”  Also, I think you will agree, I really am doing a good job keeping up with this blog.  Maybe if you would leave me a comment every once in awhile, I would be encouraged, eh?