You all know it's true.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
How To Drive Like An Angeleno
1. Figure out the most direct route to point B.
2. Consider traffic patterns and time of day. Check Sigalert. Abandon most efficient route, and find 2-3 alternative routes. You will probably use one on the way to point B and another on the way back.
3. Get a few good CDs to keep in your car, or hook up your ipod. Make sure you have a hands-free phone option for the drive.
4. Make sure your horn works.
5. Start driving. And talking on that phone.
6. On residential streets, drive in the middle until oncoming cars force you to pick sides. You will both be so touchy about the size of the road that one of you will have to pull over momentarily to let the other pass. The pull-over-and-wait person will usually be the person who has lived in LA the least amount of time, or the smaller car, or the person who has actually had a good day and doesn't really care.
7. Stop signs are somewhat optional. Also, the rule about who goes first at a four-way stop is not known by anyone. If you give someone their deserved right-of-way, you will have to wave them through. They will usually smile and wave in return.
8. The more expensive the car, the bigger the ego of the asshole driving it. Their overly aggressive driving will reflect this.
9. Any gap in the road will be filled with a car, whether they have the green light/right of way or not.
10. People will honk at you for being nice and letting someone through.
11. People will honk at you for being defensive and not letting someone through.
12. You may let one car through at any given traffic scenario. If you let in two cars, you are a pansy. More than two, and someone behind you may have a heart attack.
13. If you block an intersection, prepare to have your bumper taken off.
14. If one lane is clogged, people will veer into the open lane. They will not check to see if you are already driving in it.
15. Don't hit the bicyclists. Anyone who loves the Earth enough to ride a bike through rush hour deserves respect, and at least 4 feet of passing room.
16. If you want to change lanes, don't try to get ahead of the guy next to you. He/She will pace you or try to get ahead of you every time. Instead, signal and then drop back behind him/her. Usually there is more space there. Does it really matter if you end up 10 feet further away from the red light?
17. A good LA car game: One person counts Audis. Another counts Priuses. Another Lexuses, and another Mini-Coopers. Highest number when you reach your destination wins.
18. Who are you kidding? There's no one in the car with you. You can't play that game.
19. Stay off the 405. Just....seriously. Don't bother.
20. If you make it to point B and have to park on the street, read the damn signs about where to park. And don't be the jerk who hangs 3 feet into a driveway or blocks someone in so they only have 2 inches on either side. Not cool, man. Not cool.
2. Consider traffic patterns and time of day. Check Sigalert. Abandon most efficient route, and find 2-3 alternative routes. You will probably use one on the way to point B and another on the way back.
3. Get a few good CDs to keep in your car, or hook up your ipod. Make sure you have a hands-free phone option for the drive.
4. Make sure your horn works.
5. Start driving. And talking on that phone.
6. On residential streets, drive in the middle until oncoming cars force you to pick sides. You will both be so touchy about the size of the road that one of you will have to pull over momentarily to let the other pass. The pull-over-and-wait person will usually be the person who has lived in LA the least amount of time, or the smaller car, or the person who has actually had a good day and doesn't really care.
7. Stop signs are somewhat optional. Also, the rule about who goes first at a four-way stop is not known by anyone. If you give someone their deserved right-of-way, you will have to wave them through. They will usually smile and wave in return.
8. The more expensive the car, the bigger the ego of the asshole driving it. Their overly aggressive driving will reflect this.
9. Any gap in the road will be filled with a car, whether they have the green light/right of way or not.
10. People will honk at you for being nice and letting someone through.
11. People will honk at you for being defensive and not letting someone through.
12. You may let one car through at any given traffic scenario. If you let in two cars, you are a pansy. More than two, and someone behind you may have a heart attack.
13. If you block an intersection, prepare to have your bumper taken off.
14. If one lane is clogged, people will veer into the open lane. They will not check to see if you are already driving in it.15. Don't hit the bicyclists. Anyone who loves the Earth enough to ride a bike through rush hour deserves respect, and at least 4 feet of passing room.
16. If you want to change lanes, don't try to get ahead of the guy next to you. He/She will pace you or try to get ahead of you every time. Instead, signal and then drop back behind him/her. Usually there is more space there. Does it really matter if you end up 10 feet further away from the red light?
17. A good LA car game: One person counts Audis. Another counts Priuses. Another Lexuses, and another Mini-Coopers. Highest number when you reach your destination wins.
18. Who are you kidding? There's no one in the car with you. You can't play that game.
19. Stay off the 405. Just....seriously. Don't bother.
20. If you make it to point B and have to park on the street, read the damn signs about where to park. And don't be the jerk who hangs 3 feet into a driveway or blocks someone in so they only have 2 inches on either side. Not cool, man. Not cool.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
A Burrito with a Message
This summer I had a lot of time on my hands. I was RIF'd (pink-slipped or laid off for non-LAUSDers who are tuning in). I was at a crossroads in my life, and the only two living creatures who were happy about this were my gigantic cats, who loved that I was home all the time as I had no job and no desire to spend any money. With a ton of time on my hands, I began cooking. I went on a health food kick, did a ton of research, and decided to be as much of a "whole foods" kind of person as I could be. I made my own vegan bread and crackers. I scoured nutritional labels, and then generally put it all back on the shelf and opted for unpackaged foods. Did I mention how much time I spent cooking? It was really a lot of time. I wondered if I'd be able to keep it up during the school year.
I'd have had a better chance of flying.
So a few weeks into the school year, I slunk down to the cafeteria with my high and mighty tail between my legs, seeking a vegetarian lunch from the school district that I don't trust. I was hoping that whatever they had wouldn't be too far off my new food rules. After handing over $2.50, I was presented with a tray containing a bean and cheese burrito, grapes, spinach salad, and milk.
To be fair, the food in the cafeteria does not always suck. Sometimes they have jicama, sometimes they have edamame. Sometimes they have two vegetarian options. Unfortunately, there's a flipside. Sometimes they don't have a veggie option, and I have to speak in very firm tones to whoever is trying to sell me chicken. I have actually yelled out "This is Los Angeles for crying out loud!" in my quest for a salad. Sometimes they run out of beverages. Sometimes they mix up the hamburgers with the veggie burgers. Sometimes they can't even give you a fork, though your lunch definitely requires one. So on this day that my burrito came to me, I was relieved to find myself equipped with a vegetarian, fork-free lunch.
Now let's talk about the presentation, shall we?
The salad is in a little plastic thingie with a lid. By salad I mean it is a handful of spinach leaves.
The grapes are in a bag. My burrito is in a bag. And the milk? Oh yes people, the milk is in fact also in a bag. Not a stand-up Capri Sun type bag. A plastic bag that wobbles around the tray with no hope of staying upright on its own. The cafeteria people offered me a cup for the milk, but with the amount of trash generated by this one lunch, I feel like enough of a jerk and refuse the cup. I set my tray down and begin to eat.
Verdict on the salad: Spinach is actually fresh.
Verdict on the grapes: They are almost expired, and quite mushy.
Verdict on the milk: I feel like an idiot drinking this thing. Many bad jokes come to mind.
My burrito is talking to me.
The burrito is boasting a label that it's a "Baja California Burrito". I certainly hope someone closer than Baja made this thing. Also on the label is a round orange dot, with the words "Say No To Drugs!" printed on it.
Why is my burrito telling me not to do drugs? Is my burrito a reformed junkie? Has my burrito done some hard time, and is now coming to do some preventive public speaking? And honestly, does anyone think that some kid is going to read the label on the burrito and have a crazy life-altering revelation? "Well, I was going to go home and do some ecstasy, but this little piece of plastic said not to. I think I'm going to listen and become a model citizen".
The burrito tasted passable. I already say no to drugs, so the message is lost on me. On the whole, the meal will keep me going until I get home for the evening.
Where I will promptly start cooking again.
I'd have had a better chance of flying.
So a few weeks into the school year, I slunk down to the cafeteria with my high and mighty tail between my legs, seeking a vegetarian lunch from the school district that I don't trust. I was hoping that whatever they had wouldn't be too far off my new food rules. After handing over $2.50, I was presented with a tray containing a bean and cheese burrito, grapes, spinach salad, and milk.
To be fair, the food in the cafeteria does not always suck. Sometimes they have jicama, sometimes they have edamame. Sometimes they have two vegetarian options. Unfortunately, there's a flipside. Sometimes they don't have a veggie option, and I have to speak in very firm tones to whoever is trying to sell me chicken. I have actually yelled out "This is Los Angeles for crying out loud!" in my quest for a salad. Sometimes they run out of beverages. Sometimes they mix up the hamburgers with the veggie burgers. Sometimes they can't even give you a fork, though your lunch definitely requires one. So on this day that my burrito came to me, I was relieved to find myself equipped with a vegetarian, fork-free lunch.
Now let's talk about the presentation, shall we?
The salad is in a little plastic thingie with a lid. By salad I mean it is a handful of spinach leaves.
The grapes are in a bag. My burrito is in a bag. And the milk? Oh yes people, the milk is in fact also in a bag. Not a stand-up Capri Sun type bag. A plastic bag that wobbles around the tray with no hope of staying upright on its own. The cafeteria people offered me a cup for the milk, but with the amount of trash generated by this one lunch, I feel like enough of a jerk and refuse the cup. I set my tray down and begin to eat.Verdict on the salad: Spinach is actually fresh.
Verdict on the grapes: They are almost expired, and quite mushy.
Verdict on the milk: I feel like an idiot drinking this thing. Many bad jokes come to mind.
My burrito is talking to me.
The burrito is boasting a label that it's a "Baja California Burrito". I certainly hope someone closer than Baja made this thing. Also on the label is a round orange dot, with the words "Say No To Drugs!" printed on it.Why is my burrito telling me not to do drugs? Is my burrito a reformed junkie? Has my burrito done some hard time, and is now coming to do some preventive public speaking? And honestly, does anyone think that some kid is going to read the label on the burrito and have a crazy life-altering revelation? "Well, I was going to go home and do some ecstasy, but this little piece of plastic said not to. I think I'm going to listen and become a model citizen".
The burrito tasted passable. I already say no to drugs, so the message is lost on me. On the whole, the meal will keep me going until I get home for the evening.
Where I will promptly start cooking again.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Mitten Threads -- Days Six and Seven
The last two days I was in MI were fairly low key. I had spent five days running around almost every second, on a roller coaster of emotions as I saw friends, missed others, interviewed for jobs over the phone, and generally tried to cram in all the fun I possibly could...you know how exhausting that is. Sometime in those two days, I did manage to get back up to MSU and had a random run-in with my friend K, and we had lunch together. This was wonderful because I really thought that everyone I knew from MSU had left town. God knows all us 20-somethings are abandoning the state like the financially unstable rats we are. Anyway, the last two days were filled with odds and ends, and lots of relaxing got done.
Here are some pictures from those two days, and probably some others from other times that I loved, but couldn't work into other posts. Enjoy!
All in all, a very good vacation.
Here are some pictures from those two days, and probably some others from other times that I loved, but couldn't work into other posts. Enjoy!
All in all, a very good vacation.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Happy
Driving down Sunset is always a bit surreal for me.
The first time I did it, I couldn't get over it. I was driving My Car down Sunset Boulevard. You know, that street that everyone in the world knows about, that's littered with Hollywood history? Yeah, that one. Sunset, as in "My apartment is a block off Sunset" or later when I moved, "My apartment is five blocks off of Sunset". Yup. Crazy.
So, I coasted down this famous street again, and this time contended with a bus on one side and a crazy-aggressive bicyclist on the other, who had his own lane but kept weaving into mine just to prove a point I guess. I was just trying to get my dirty car to the dollar car wash at Sunset and Descanso. Upon arriving there, I slid into a bay, pulled quarters out of my pocket, and proceeded to spray down my Prius. It slowly turned from dusty brown back into the blue it was supposed to be. When the last soap bubble had been rinsed away, I replaced the hose, and heard "Excuse me?" just as I was doing so.
I turned to find a 20-something guy in a silver pickup truck calling out to me. Being from LA, I scanned the interior of his car as I approached, looking for other people, weapons, or anything wierd. He was alone. His hands were on the wheel. I stepped up, and rested my hands lightly in the windowsill.
"Can you tell me how to get to West Hollywood?" Out-of-towner. Backwoods accent. Slightly nervous, but determined.
"Sure," I began. "The easiest way is to take Sunset or Hollywood that way-"
"I'm on Sunset."
"Yes, you are. But you're going the wrong way. You want to flip around and just follow it down, but it'll take 25-30 minutes, just so you know."
Out-of-town stared back quizzically. "So I go this way?" he asked, pointing in the wrong direction. I corrected him, then asked where he was trying to go. "Well, uh, ummmm...." out-of-town trailed off. I hoped he was here to visit friends, and not to escape some situation back home. We made sure one last time that he was clear on the way to go, then he thanked me and pulled away. I got back into my dripping car, and pulled out. I saw him (this time headed the right way) at the intersection, and waved as I turned left.
I'm glad that I finally know where I'm going.
The first time I did it, I couldn't get over it. I was driving My Car down Sunset Boulevard. You know, that street that everyone in the world knows about, that's littered with Hollywood history? Yeah, that one. Sunset, as in "My apartment is a block off Sunset" or later when I moved, "My apartment is five blocks off of Sunset". Yup. Crazy.So, I coasted down this famous street again, and this time contended with a bus on one side and a crazy-aggressive bicyclist on the other, who had his own lane but kept weaving into mine just to prove a point I guess. I was just trying to get my dirty car to the dollar car wash at Sunset and Descanso. Upon arriving there, I slid into a bay, pulled quarters out of my pocket, and proceeded to spray down my Prius. It slowly turned from dusty brown back into the blue it was supposed to be. When the last soap bubble had been rinsed away, I replaced the hose, and heard "Excuse me?" just as I was doing so.
I turned to find a 20-something guy in a silver pickup truck calling out to me. Being from LA, I scanned the interior of his car as I approached, looking for other people, weapons, or anything wierd. He was alone. His hands were on the wheel. I stepped up, and rested my hands lightly in the windowsill."Can you tell me how to get to West Hollywood?" Out-of-towner. Backwoods accent. Slightly nervous, but determined.
"Sure," I began. "The easiest way is to take Sunset or Hollywood that way-"
"I'm on Sunset."
"Yes, you are. But you're going the wrong way. You want to flip around and just follow it down, but it'll take 25-30 minutes, just so you know."
Out-of-town stared back quizzically. "So I go this way?" he asked, pointing in the wrong direction. I corrected him, then asked where he was trying to go. "Well, uh, ummmm...." out-of-town trailed off. I hoped he was here to visit friends, and not to escape some situation back home. We made sure one last time that he was clear on the way to go, then he thanked me and pulled away. I got back into my dripping car, and pulled out. I saw him (this time headed the right way) at the intersection, and waved as I turned left.
I'm glad that I finally know where I'm going.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Day Five -- The Mittenberg Olympics
Every family should have a fun and slightly stupid tradition. My mom's side has found theirs: the Meulenberg Olympics. Each summer, the family gathers for food, fun, and a chance to win bragging rights for an entire calendar year. Oh yeah, and they also get a cheap ugly trophy (or should I say, they are grudgingly obliged to store the thing for a year).
This year's games, hosted by my parents, were:
- Croquet
-Tossing Ping Pong Balls Into A Hula Hoop Floating In The Pool
-Beanbag Tosss (or corn-holing, if you are Midwest and for some reason don't find that to be the crudest term ever)
-"Ball Shot" (which made me laugh much more than I'd like to admit to. It's a "Minute to Win It" game where you roll a ball down a tape measure and into a shot glass. Very addictive.)
There were three types of people who came out that day: those who were after blood, those who played for the love of the game, and those who played a little bit badly on purpose (my dad kept ducking out of the games and saying
"I don't want the damn thing" under his breath). My cousin C kept jumping up and down, razzing everyone and yelling "It's mine! Back off, the trophy's MINE!!!" Cousin J played with mild interest until the Ball Shot (tee hee) and then became addicted to it for the rest of the gathering. We ended up sending the necessary game supplies home with his family.
I was one who came out to win, hoping to take the trophy back to the west coast and taunt my relatives for a year by taking pictures of it near the Hollywood sign, on the beach, etc.
Sadly, it was not to be.
My croquet score was 19 (much worse than the winning score of 13 strokes). I was knocked out of the ball toss on round 5. I got 0 points for bean bags, but did manage to eek out a few points for my stunning performance in Ball Shot (That's what she said!). Overall, my score was 12 points, nowhere near enough to catch the bold 21 points scored by Brian from Ohio, who was the proud winner of the day.
At least the trophy went out of state.
I'll be back for the title next year....
This year's games, hosted by my parents, were:
- Croquet
-Tossing Ping Pong Balls Into A Hula Hoop Floating In The Pool
-Beanbag Tosss (or corn-holing, if you are Midwest and for some reason don't find that to be the crudest term ever)
-"Ball Shot" (which made me laugh much more than I'd like to admit to. It's a "Minute to Win It" game where you roll a ball down a tape measure and into a shot glass. Very addictive.)
There were three types of people who came out that day: those who were after blood, those who played for the love of the game, and those who played a little bit badly on purpose (my dad kept ducking out of the games and saying
"I don't want the damn thing" under his breath). My cousin C kept jumping up and down, razzing everyone and yelling "It's mine! Back off, the trophy's MINE!!!" Cousin J played with mild interest until the Ball Shot (tee hee) and then became addicted to it for the rest of the gathering. We ended up sending the necessary game supplies home with his family.I was one who came out to win, hoping to take the trophy back to the west coast and taunt my relatives for a year by taking pictures of it near the Hollywood sign, on the beach, etc.
Sadly, it was not to be.
My croquet score was 19 (much worse than the winning score of 13 strokes). I was knocked out of the ball toss on round 5. I got 0 points for bean bags, but did manage to eek out a few points for my stunning performance in Ball Shot (That's what she said!). Overall, my score was 12 points, nowhere near enough to catch the bold 21 points scored by Brian from Ohio, who was the proud winner of the day.
At least the trophy went out of state.
I'll be back for the title next year....
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Anniversary
I've been seeing someone for two years now, and I think it's pretty special.
She may not be everyone's favorite, but she's a class act in my book. Here again, my favorite pictures from the last year:
Happy two year anniversary, California!
She may not be everyone's favorite, but she's a class act in my book. Here again, my favorite pictures from the last year:
Happy two year anniversary, California!
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