Booking it Bus Style

Is This It?!

2010-02-10T02:29:00.000-08:00

Hey y'all. I've got some good news and some not so good news. Let's start with the not so good, shall we?

After tons of consideration, I've decided to put Booking it Bus Style to bed. I can't even begin to express how truly thankful I am to everyone who ever clicked on over to read. I'm still surprised and overwhelmed by the kindness and support fellow bloggers have shown me. So, thank you.

And now for the good news.

I'm not going far. I've started a spiffy new personal blog that's less about busing (since I rarely take it anymore) and more about, well, uh, me. It's called Ro Ro Ro Your Blog and I do hope you'll swing on over and have a look-see.

Thanks again for being such sweet pals. :)

And because no post is complete without a fun picture, check this one out of me and Fashionable Ro having a pose-off with a dinosaur. Clearly, we wiped the floor with that jurassic jerk.

Status Report

2010-02-06T23:34:00.001-08:00

Last week, I got a special treat. The BF stayed home from work one day, so he joined me for my lunch break. While our lunch at Little Dom's was uber tasty and eavesdropping on the teenage model and her mom-ager at the next booth was endlessy entertaining, the real highlight of our date was dessert. Because, well, seriously...

A few sweet friends have asked about my MIA blog status. First, OMG and thanks for reading. I can't express how thankful I am! Second, I'm hoping to be a better blogger ASAP. In the meantime, feel free (and please do!!) catch up with all my latest musings over at Smitten, Glamour's daily sex and relationships blog. Kiss, kiss! Click here to read my posts.

Los Feliz Saturdays vol. 17

2010-01-23T22:31:00.000-08:00

I super heart LA. And here's one of the many reasons why:

Random taco stands on the side of the road.

With awesome condiments.

Amazing!!!

Tacos were just $1 each. I wolfed these babies down in minutes and washed them down some some delicious horchata. Also just $1.

Have I mentioned the BF and I have arranged a similar set up for our wedding reception?

The Real World: City of Bones

2009-12-30T01:44:00.001-08:00

Happy Holidays All! It's been a hectic few weeks and I'm so excited to see what 2010 has in store. In the meantime, I believe I owe you my musings on City of Bones.

I ripped through this book in just a few days. Cassandra Clare's characters are superb. Gritty, selfish, foolish, irrational...just real. What bothers me about a lot of books aimed at teens (cough, Twilight, cough) is that the characters are horribly idealized. The authors create these absolutely perfect characters whose only flaws are that they care too much. Or that they're too beautiful. Or so unique (yep, I qualified it) that they simply can't get along with their peers. In City of Bones, Jace is a jerk. He might have feelings for Clary but, f-it, it's Jace first and foremost. And Simon? Dear Simon hooks up with sexy Isabelle because, well, she's sexy Isabelle, but he also wants to make Clary jealous.

The major twist near the end really threw me. I'm hoping we'll find out that sleaze ball Valentine was lying when spilled the beans about Jace's true identity. We shall see.

Got any plans for NYE? What about New Year's resolutions?

P.S. Couldn't resist. Meet my copy editor. She gets a bit persnickety when I don't go with her suggestions.

Los Feliz Saturdays vol. 16 pt. 2

2009-12-19T16:43:00.000-08:00

Update! We picked up a few items from Ikea for the home office. I think it's off to a nice start. Note the homage to my first love on the top left corner of the table.

Also, the BF recently made this LOL of Gabby. Much better than those vague "INSPIRATION" posters that hang in more corporate workplaces, right?

Los Feliz Saturdays vol. 16

2009-12-19T08:33:00.000-08:00

When the BF and I first discussed moving to our amazing hood, Fashionable Ro wondered why Los Feliz sounded so familiar to her. Did she know someone who lived there already? She pondered this for awhile and then the light bulb went off.

See, Fashionable Ro is what you might call a hip hop head. I'd love to take some credit for this; in our early twenties, I dragged her to see The Roots, Blackalicious, Mos Def and the like. But somewhere along the line, her music street cred far outshone my own.

So then, Fashionable Ro suddenly remembered a song she first heard at a one of the dozens of shows she saw last year. The Grouch has this charming little ditty called "Artsy." Watch the awesomeness below.

Did you catch the line around the :26 mark? "You ain't artsier than me cuz you live in Los Feliz/B*tch you ain't Jesus." Another gem around 2:10 "You ain't artsier than me cuz you shop at Whole Foods and open toed shoes." Ha!

I realize, yes, this song kinda pokes fun at, well, me. But I do love it. I think it's wonderfully clever, cheeky and catchy.

Later today, I'm dragging the BF to Ikea to outfit my new home office. I'm in the market for a cork board, magazine racks, file baskets and the like. If you have suggestions, feel free to send them along!

What are you up to this weekend? Finishing up (or starting?!) your Christmas shopping? Movies? Holiday shin digs?

Guess Who's Back?

2009-12-14T10:24:00.000-08:00

Me! It's been more than a few days since my last post but I have some super exciting news about my absence.

You see my dears, I was busy wrapping up my last few weeks at the office. I know I've always been pretty cryptic about my day gig, but now I'll finally spill the beans. Up until Friday, I was an editor at Architectural Digest. It was a wonderful experience and I learned tons.

Before I left on Friday afternoon, I snapped this pic of the view outside of my office. Too bad it couldn't have been a sunnier day, huh?

So now, I'm off to an entirely different venture. I'm freelancing from home (the adorable Gabby the Tabby is now my co-worker!). I'm blogging for the super brilliant folks at Glamour.com where I write for Smitten, their daily sex/relationships blog. In fact, you can read all of my posts here.

I hope you'll keep up with my musings here and over at Smitten.

Also, in booking news, after much nudging from Fashionable Ro, I finally read City of Bones, the first installment in The Mortal Instruments Saga by Cassandra Clare. Oooh, wee. It's like Twilight times 10. More on it soon.

Happy Monday!

Changes Afoot

2009-12-01T21:42:00.000-08:00

Starting with the loveliness that came in this package:

The BF and I just returned from Best Buy with my new speedy laptop. The previous one was about 5 years old. A dinosaur in techno years, no?

Semi-related: Signage all over the store promised that Kareem Abdul-Jabbar would be making an in-store appearance this Saturday. If you're near Glendale/Atwater, I guess you can bring your basketballs for signature?

Ireland and Friends

2009-11-30T20:54:00.001-08:00

For the past few weeks, I've taken the bus with an adorably stylish gal. I'm convinced she's just about my age. And! She boards the bus where I transfer and we both exit at the same stop. And! She works in my office building. Is there a way to strike up a friendly conversation without coming off as creepy?

Now and Then took sometime to grow on me. Through the first few chapters, Anna's (the main character) lawyer street cred came up. Again. And again. And again. She's a lawyer, I get it. But then she and her nephew time travel to pre-famine Ireland. And her past (um, future?!) doesn't matter much. So that's when Sheehan's build up kinda made me eat my words. She emphasizes Anna's law background because it doesn't come in all too handy in her time travel trials. And so, because Anna has always depended on her legal eagleness, she's forced to reevaluate herself.

Talk about a chance to start over. New friends, new man and a clean slate? What's not to love? Oh, that's right, stuck in a time that's not your own separated from the only person you know.

Oddly, while Anna's found herself kicking it with the commoners, her nephew's time travels landed him (same time zone) at a richie rich estate. After falling in love with a kitchen lass and becoming a champion wrestler, he thinks he's got it made. But we know things aren't always that neat and tidy, right?

Sigh. After reading Now and Then, I wanted to become a travel writer, book a ticket to Ireland and get a dog. In that order. I've never been to Ireland but it's been on my list forever.

A few years back, my wonderfully awesome Grandparents (chilling above at my college graduation) celebrated an anniversary by spending a month in Ireland. When they came back, they referred to fries as "chips" and insisted that we call to-go food "take-away." Aren't they the coolest?

Full disclosure: I received a gratis copy of Now and Then from the lovely folks at Avon/Harper Collins after a friend of Sheehan's contacted me to see if I'd be interested in reading the novel.

What I Love

2009-11-24T18:28:00.001-08:00

Last week, the BF and I climbed up a hillside for our engagement portraits with our good friend and super talented photographer Meg Perotti. I am swooning over these images. Of course, books played a large part in the production.

A preview:

See the full set over at Meg's blog.

Bee Funny

2009-11-23T19:47:00.000-08:00

For quite some time, the on board broadcast of bus monitors has been limited to weather or live maps showing bus locations. Completely acceptable, right? However, as the smarty pants bloggers over at The Bus Bench noted a few months back, the monitors are no longer silent. We riders must listen--and watch--a variety of uninteresting, and sometimes offensive programming. It wasn't until this morning that I actually sat up and paid full attention. I was happily reading Now and Then when suddenly I heard an eerie laugh track. Looking up, I saw the source.

A paragraph long story about a husband and wife trying to arrange a night out. And then screen flashed to a new, equally long paragraph. The couple has a cat. The cat must be locked out while they're away. Next screen, a cab rolls up. Apparently, a paragraph is required to explain this difficult concept.

So what was this nonsense all about? After eight screens of build up, a punchline! Jokes! Unfunny, ridiculously long, dated, offensive jokes! The jokes found on popsicle sticks are more entertaining.

Sidenote-- When I told this story to the BF, his eyes lit up.

BF: What do you call it when a girl bee is being bad?

Me: I dunno, what?

BF: Miss-bee-hive-ing

Me: *eyeroll

BF: raucous laughter

Have you heard any good jokes lately? What's making you smile this week? For me, it's thinking about all the yummy Thanksgiving grub!

Full disclosure: I received a gratis copy of Now and Then from the lovely folks at Avon/Harper Collins after a friend of Sheehan's contacted me to see if I'd be interested in reading the novel.

More full disclosure: One Halloween during my early 20s, I dressed up as, ahem, a "miss-bee-hive-ing" bee. Some might have called it a slutty bee. Alas.

Loose Ends

2009-11-19T20:42:00.000-08:00

That dastardly mouse is no longer an issue. We'd taken the expected measures: setting up traps, keeping the kitchen spotless--I have a bit of a gluttonous confession. We have not cooked a meal since Halloween. That's right, we've been out to eat every.single.night this month. It's heavenly.

But I digress. So, a few days ago, the BF found evidence of a scuffle between a small animal (mouse) and a quite larger one (our 16 pound tabby).

I should have given her exterminator skills more credit.

Next week we return to cooking. Let's hope I remember my way around a stove.

Current read is Now and Then by Jacqueline Sheehan. Time travel, the East Coast, lawyers, Ireland, wrestling and one-armed heroes. More soon.

In the meantime, what are your thoughts on time travel in novels, movies, shows, etc? Love it? Hate it? If you could travel back, or forward in time, where (or when?) would you go?

Full disclosure: I received a gratis copy of Now and Then from the lovely folks at Avon/Harper Collins after a friend of Sheehan's contacted me to see if I'd be interested in reading the novel.

Cartoon image from Tom and Jerry Online.

Douse the Mouse

2009-11-09T21:30:00.000-08:00

The BF's latest attempt at vector control:

Special thanks to "Production Assistant" Gabby for letting us borrow one of her toys.

Updates soon!

A Happy Home

2009-11-08T19:34:00.000-08:00

Why hello, there! We (me!) have been quite the busy little bees at Chez Booking it Bus Style. Wedding planning, domestic issues (new cat litter woes), loads of new books and on and on. Oh, and we may or may not have a mouse kicking it incognito in our kitchen. Darn Gabby's previous owners for declawing her.

She's so vicious, right? Anywho...

Finished up Reading Lolita in Tehran some time ago. I really need to be more selective in my bus literature. See, as I've mentioned before, I'm quite the cry baby. So, imagine the waterworks on overdrive while finishing up such emotional heaviness in public.

When the BF and I saw Where the Wild Things Are, I complained that I didn't like seeing emotional movies in the theater because I prefer to get my cry on in private. Brilliant gent he is, he countered, "Movies are designed that way. To create a shared experience. Doesn't it feel richer to go through that journey with a large group rather than by yourself?" Touche philosophy buff. Moving on...

I adore books that deal with themes of home; Reading Lolita in Tehran is all over this. Throughout the memoir, the Tehran of Nafisi's youth and the Tehran she lives in duke it out. It's so fascinating to see her generation struggle with the current regime; they're fighting for a society--and home--that no longer exists. At the same time, her students are battling for wholly different reasons.

Books like this really put things into perspective. My complaints and woes are downright silly compared to the hardships endured by the real people in Nafisi's work. Interestingly, as I was thinking this, I came across what would turn out to be one of my favorite passages.

"Why is it that stories like Lolita and Madame Bovary--stories that are so sad, so tragic--make us happy? Is it not sinful to feel pleasure when reading about something so terrible? Would we feel this way if we were to read about it in the newspapers or if happened to us? If we were to write about our lives here in the Islamic Republic of Iran, should we make our readers happy?"

So why is this book--not a novel, but a memoir, so enjoyable to read? Is it wrong to feel grateful and even happy while reading this? The writing is so beautiful and tear inducing. Painfully enjoyable, you might say.

Back in Black

2009-11-03T20:04:00.000-08:00

A Halloween I will not soon forget. I'm trying to convince the BF to write a guest post. We shall see.

In the meantime, on Saturday, my dear friend (and wedding photographer!) Meg hosted a super stylish Halloween bash. Costumes were a must and of course the BF and I racked our brains to come up with something fun. The inspiration:

The execution:

How'd we do? And how did you celebrate? Any good trick-or-treating loot?

Costume images by Meg Perotti.

No Tricks, Just Treats

2009-10-26T18:54:00.000-07:00

Still looking for Halloween costume ideas? Well, have I got some suggestions for you--and your man. Check 'em out here.

And lest you think I don't follow my own advice, peep this pic of me and the BF--er, I mean, Maverick from Halloween 2007.

Los Feliz Saturday vol. 15

2009-10-25T13:14:00.001-07:00

The BF and I are becoming quite the westsiders. Saturday marked the third weekend in a row we trekked across the 10 to partake in 310 festivities.

See, one of my favorite bloggers, Siel of Green LA Girl, teamed up with Sara Bayles of The Daily Ocean to organize a fantastic Blogger Beach Cleanup in Santa Monica.

We were a bit tardy for the party so we got to work right away. You would not believe how many cigarette butts and straws we picked up. Eeew.

As we walked up the beach to turn in our trash loot, we stumbled upon this curious sign. Hmm. Though I did spend an angsty teen summer as junior lifeguard, I was a rather stumped by this particular warning. Thoughts?

I set our bag down in the designated pile. This was not even a fourth of the haul gathered up by the clean team. It's amazing how much garbage was collected in such a short period of time.

After all trash bags had been turned in, Siel, Sara and a few other green minded peeps shared ideas about making a difference. One tip mentioned more than a few times was using public transportation. Woo-hoo for me! However, I did ride shot gun in the BF's car to the cleanup. At least we carpooled? In all honesty though, I was pretty distracted during the speeches because I was standing behind this individual.

I mean, c'mon. That girl's hair is unbelievable. I started brainstorming/pipe dreaming about how to sport locks like that during the wedding. It's somewhat possible, right? I mean, her hair is just a bit longer than mine. See, see?

Okay, okay, her Rapunzel tresses are a lot longer than mine. I've never been a fan of extensions but I guess if there's anytime to experiment...

While most of the blogging brigade headed to Pourtal in Santa Monica, the BF and I made our way to 3rd Street Promenade for a quiet romantic dinner. Except. Who should be sitting at the table next to us and therefore distracting me from my pasta because this theme song was on loop in my head? Tamera Mowry of Sister, Sister fame! Unfortunately, Tia was not with her. However, I did hear her drop her twin's name more than a few times. Where's that Roger when you need him?!

I was still star struck as we walked back to our parking structure. Until that is, we almost bumped into this guy on a quiet little side street.

Whoa.

And what about your weekends? Marathon book reading sessions? Any fun shopping finds? Did you do anything to celebrate International Day of Climate Change?

Don Cheadle image from Yahoo! Movies.

Los Feliz Saturdays vol. 14

2009-10-20T21:05:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, the BF, Fashionable Ro and I headed to Santa Monica to check out Diane Meyer's photo exhibit.

The experience was beyond moving. I may have teared up a few times. Meyer's subjects ranged from students, professors, day laborers, environmentalists, writers, housekeepers and everything in between.

We three musketeers scoped out my portrait and accompanying quote right away. I'm thrilled with it! Honestly, I was a bit worried that Meyer might use one of the off handed comments I made during our interview. Happily though, she selected a quote about ideas of space on the bus, something along the lines of "There's something so satisfying about getting in your car after a hard day. Listening to the music you want. Not having to talk to anyone. Going where you want to go, on your own terms. The bus is different--you're by yourself, but you're not alone. You're surrounded." Abridged of course (check the length below!) because we all know how wordy I can be.

As I noticed others at my portrait, I couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious. I mean, that's my living room pictured! It's such a personal and private space that few see--it's from the tan couch pictured at right that I do most of blogging; it's where I'm sitting as I type this.

What about you my artful dodgers? What did you do this past weekend?

Crash into Friday

2009-10-19T19:03:00.000-07:00

Friday morning started like any other. I was riding the rapid to work. Holding my compact with one hand and applying bronzer with the other, I didn't notice anything odd on the road until...SCREECH and then, CRUNCH. My bus crashed into an m-f-ing car. Here's the really interesting bit, because buses are like tanks, we felt little impact. In fact, were it not for the loud noises, I would have thought that the driver simply hit the brakes rather quickly. We passengers sort of swayed forward, but it was not at all intense. The driver of the smashed car, a VW rabbit, was rubbing his neck. Ouch. He made a few obscene gestures at our driver and then peeled out.

The bus pulled to the side of the street and cut the engine. The driver of the VW was no where to be seen. Unfortunately, we had to get off the bus and wait for the next to roll by. We 30 or so rapid refugees grumbled when the next bus to pull up was a local, not a rapid. Meaning, of course, double the stops and a horribly increased commute time. However, being a bit late (I arrived at 9:10, rather than 8:30) is, of course, much more preferable than getting rear ended by a city bus. Though the disappearance of the VW driver is quite the mystery, right?

Reading Lolita in Tehran is making me all kinds of contemplative. The "memoir in books" is, at its core, a work of literary criticism. The class assembled by Professor Nafisi meets to discuss literature. And from these chats on bookish themes and such, broader discussion on social topics develop. How does Nabokov's characterization of Lolita relate to the government's ideas of womanhood in Iran? It's all quite deep and amazingly highlights the exact reason why literature is forever relevant must be studied by everyone. After I read through several pages of pure literary criticism, I closed the book beamed ear to ear. I've not read such illuminating literary analysis in ages. Pure, nerdy bliss.

Around 5 or so in the afternoon, the BF picked me up from work for our date night: dinner and a movie. We headed to The Hungry Cat in Hollywood for a fancy schmancy meal. I couldn't resist the cheese platter to start because, well...

The BF went with The Hungry Cat's famous Pug Burger, of course. And per the server's suggestion, I ordered the evening's special: Spiny Lobster tail with oxtail ragu. Before:

And after:

Hubba, hubba, right? Two of the three women at the table next to us followed suit and also went with the lobster madness.

Though our bellies were full of decadence, we had to haul tail across the street to make it to our movie on time. The ArcLight prohibits patrons from entering the theaters after the show starts. Thankfully, we made it with time to spare. Can you guess what we watched? Because (like most peeps our age) we looooved the book, we had to see the movie. My only complaint is all that darn Karen O. music. I get that she and Spike Jonze were/are an item, but sheesh! I was really hoping the Arcade Fire song from the preview would make an appearance. Sadly, not the case. Have you seen it yet? Thoughts?

Grows like a Weed

2009-10-15T19:27:00.000-07:00

It's Thursday. Which means, those gumshoes at Booking Through Thursdays have yet another pressing question for book bloggers:

When’s the last time you weeded out your library? Do you regularly keep it pared down to your reading essentials? Or does it blossom into something out of control the minute you turn your back, like a garden after a Spring rain?

Or do you simply not get rid of books? At all? (This would have described me for most of my life, by the way.)

And–when you DO weed out books from your collection (assuming that you do) …what do you do with them? Throw them away (gasp)? Donate them to a charity or used bookstore? SELL them to a used bookstore? Trade them on Paperback Book Swap or some other exchange program?

I haven't unloaded books in years. In college, I regularly "sold" non-literature textbooks back to the bookstore. You better believe I kept all my Norton anthologies, because I'm cool like that. The BF and I have a pretty solid collection of books. However, since we live in an itty bitty apartment, our oodles of books are stored at our respective childhood homes. Thanks fam! And BF's fam! You guys are great--don't have a garage sale anytime soon. Please?

Behold our pitifully stocked Billy bookcase--I'm certain these books miss their OC cousins. I briefly weighed the pros/cons of keeping it real with those charming yellow USED stickers here.

And you my little librarians? How do you keep your collections in check? If at all?

Feeling Artsy?

2009-10-12T21:15:00.000-07:00

So a few months back, Diane Meyer, Professor of Photography at LMU, asked me if I'd like to be a part of her massive project: "Without a Car in the World: 100 Car-less Angelenos Tell Stories of Living in LA." Um, YES!

The exhibit opens this weekend at the 18th Street Arts Center and I'm ridiculously excited. Also, a wee bit nervous. The BF says I looked sorta deer-in-the-headlights during my photo shoot. We shall see...

As Days Go By

2009-10-11T14:42:00.000-07:00

On Friday I was running mad late to work. I usually catch the local bus around 7:20 and then make my transfer to the rapid around 7:30. When I rolled out of the apt and noticed it was 8:15, I about keeled the f over. Then, when my local bus pulled up at 8:20, I almost called it quits. But, in the madness, I remembered, hey, I've got a back up. True, I've not used it before, but now is definitely the time to test it out. After getting off the local at my transfer spot, I walked over to these guys.

The driver in the first car was reading the paper. I leaned in and gave him my work address. It was 8:30. Nervously, I hopped in and watched the meter go up, up, up. I took out Reading Lolita in Tehran and attempted to dive in. But those darn red numbers on the meter kept rising. My driver wove in and out of traffic, cutting people off and squeezing between cars. I know I should have been frightened, but honestly, it was pretty fun. I've never taken a cab by myself and I couldn't help but imagine that I was some fancy business person off to an important meeting. However, if you consider my office building's annual fire drill (held Friday morning!) of any importance, then I suppose my fantasy was partly true. Also, the driver switched radio stations a lot. He'd flip to a pop station, then love songs, then oldies. It didn't stop. Until, he came to this song.

He cranked that ish up. Also, I'm pretty sure I heard him singing along quietly. But really, who doesn't love Michael McDonald? We rolled up to my building at 8:55. Uber impressive. Back in my driving days, it could take upwards of 45 minutes for me to get to work. Guess we can't all be super stars behind the wheel. If you're curious, my fare from Los Feliz to Mid-Wilshire plus tip was $30. Not sure if that was a good deal or not, but at the moment, it was absolutely worth it.

Since he's wonderfully awesome and knew that I'd had something of a stressful week, the BF picked me up that afternoon and whisked me off to one of our favorite neighborhood spots for dinner. I promptly ordered a chocolate shake.

On Saturday, we celebrated the BF's Uncle Craig's birthday. Like most boys the BF's handwriting is kinda scratchy. So when he wrote "Uncle Craig" on our card, it looked more like "Urcle Crais" Nothing like memories of old school shows to put a smile on my face. Urcle Crais decided his birthday festivities should include dinner at...wait for it, Bob's Big Boy. My head just about exploded when I heard the fantastic news. I heart The Big Boy (aka TBB) like no tomorrow. See, TBB was my first crush. Waaaay back in the day, the fam and I would go to the location in Anaheim (now a Skechers outlet) just about once a week. My favorite part of the experience was shyly walking up to TBB and asking about his day. After dinner last night, the BF was gracious enough to snap a pic of me and my old flame.

Then we headed over to Whittier to visit our good friends from Welcome to my humble ablog. I mostly oggled over their new tanker desk. Check it:

Gorgeous, right? So very Mad Men.

As if the weekend couldn't get any better, yesterday we received an invite from my dear friend Genius John to check out his hip new place in Santa Monica. Of course, I'm thrilled but my excitement grew tenfold when earlier today, he texted "You guys better bring your appetites."

Holy smokes. The party's 6:30 start time can't come soon enough.

And what about you my dears? Any fun weekend activities?

Desk image from Welcome to my humble ablog.

Let's Go...Home?

2009-10-08T21:25:00.000-07:00

When I was a little kiddo, I lived in San Diego. However, I'd often spend weekends chilling at my Grandparents' house in Anaheim. The drive north took forever but I knew that as soon as I spotted the lights of The Big A from the 57 freeway, Grandma and Papa's house was only a few minutes away. Twenty years later and I still feel childishly happy whenever I see it.

But now that I live quite literally a hop, skip and a jump away from Dodger Stadium, I find myself at a baseball crossroads. Who to cheer for? Must I select a team? I don't really follow baseball--or any sport for that matter. The exception, of course, is UFC. Earlier today though, my Facebook news feed was flooded with the following status updates: "Let's go Halos!" "C'mon Dodger blue!" And the like. A Facebook divided...

Nowadays, my "almost home" marker while busing is:

This morning as I was rushing out the door, I grabbed Azar Nafisi's Reading Lolita in Tehran. Rather noisy buses to and from work this morning prevented me from getting too far into the novel but so far, yowzers. I feel like I'm an outsider--these women, these lovers of literature are essentially forced to study what they love in secret. The clandestine meetings, their apprehensive thoughts, the removal of ethnic garments. Should I be looking? Have you read the novel? Did you feel the same way?

Big A image from Wikimedia Commons.
Observatory image from Wikipedia.

Still Here!

2009-10-07T18:30:00.000-07:00

My, my. Has it been over a week since I last posted? Eek. Apologies, my friends! Please say you'll have me back? I've been swamped with side projects, many wedding related. I'm thrilled to report that our photographer, DJ, caterer and makeup for the day are all set. More details to come soon.

I finished The Conquest yesterday morning. Sigh. Books like The Conquest always get me so worked up. Murray's main character, Sara, had me screaming. So many foolish choices, including crashing her ex BF's engagement party. Classy. But of course, stirring up such emotion indicates just how darn engaging the writing is.

So I'm due to start a new book. Any suggestions? Front runners include: Reading Lolita in Tehran, American Wife and The Coral Thief. Side note: Fashionable Ro called me out the other day while we were perusing the romance novel stacks at Barnes and Noble. That "romance novel about ultimate fighters" I refer to in my "about me" section is Lori Foster's Hard to Handle. I suppose I should get around to that one.

And because no post is complete without pix or fun videos, here's a hint about where my night is headed.

Time Flies

2009-09-29T19:42:00.000-07:00

The single best thing about taking public transport is all the glorious free time you're awarded. Yes, it's great to be greener and saving money is just dandy. But when driving yourself around town, it's all about focusing. On the drivers around you. On the traffic lights. On pedestrians. When you're chillaxing in a bus, all those concerns are, well, no concern of yours. What to do with all this free time? A few suggestions:

1. Finish (0r start) getting ready. I've often left the house without a bit of makeup on, my hair in tizzy and my accessories sadly tossed into my purse. Once I hop the bus and settle in, I'm able to tousle my hair; I've even been know to smuggle a tube of Bumble and bumble brilliantine on board. Makeup application, after a few trial runs, is a piece of cake. Just save the eye business for red lights. Seriously. And, how easy is it to throw on a bracelet or clasp your earrings in while on the go? No sweat at all.

2. Catch some Zzz's. While I personally have yet to try this, tons of passengers nap while on the bus. However, a few words of caution are in order. First, your stuff may get swiped. Second, you may miss your stop. Third, someone may s nap an unflattering pic of you.

3. Chow down. You've got to be a bit sneaky with this one. Most drivers let a commuter mug, even a bagel slide but watch out if you're chomping on more messy items. Yesterday when I showed the driver my jacked up pass, she waved me through but warned, "You better not leave that banana peel on this bus!" I flushed with embarrassment and felt like a scolded toddler. But I was smooth and offered up my plastic trash bag, showing I was responsible enough to snack on fruit.

4. Read. Which brings me to my latest selection...

The Conquest by Yxta Maya Murray is one of those books that I picked up, then put down, only to pick up and put down again. I finally scooped it up and dove in last week. Oooh wee, what a page turner.

Two parallel stories form Murray's novel: Sara, a rare book restorer employed by The Getty, deals with her sometimes boyfriend. They started dating while in high school, kept it real all through college and for the past few years, they've found themselves at a crossroads. What's the spell that keeps these two colliding?

"There are those who are lucky enough to meet someone special when they're just beginning to notice the world--that unshelled age of fifteen, in my experience--and the first mold that they make of themselves takes part of its shape from that person. Decades later, they can still reach through the years and touch that pure egg. When they say your name, it's like secret code."

Well, then. As painfully romantic as this sounds, I'm not sure I'd ever want to be in a relationship like that. Granted, as I'm a tad over fifteen, my moment's passed, but I think meeting someone and staying with that person from your teens til beyond sort of stunts your emotional growth. How are you able to have your own experiences? Everything Sara does must take her man Karl into consideration. Sadly, there's not much reciprocity. Likely the problem.

The other layer to the novel concerns the old manuscript Sara's been researching. Well, not researching so much as obsessing over. For reals. While studying the text, Sara actually misses a clandestine after hours party in the halls of The Getty hosted and populated by "museum nerds" who've paid the night guards to look the other way. Though the shin dig sounds awesome (sipping Patron from Renaissance chalices, getting busy on ancient settees), a friend/former Getty employee explained that such revelry is not even a possibility. Boo to that, I say.

Pre party image from The Getty.

Los Feliz Saturdays vol. 13

2009-09-27T21:31:00.000-07:00

The BF and I have been meaning to visit The Oinkster in Eagle Rock forEVER. We've heard nothing but delightful things about the restaurant.

So we were beyond surprised when we were greeted with a nearly empty parking lot and a practically vacant dining room. I contemplated ordering a shake (they offer ube shakes for all you halo-halo heads) but decided to stick with iced tea. Good thing too, considering the monstrous platters they delivered to our table.

I went with the pulled pork sandwich and fries. Most pulled pork sandwiches I've had are slathered in bbq sauce. Not the case with The Oinkster's. But I think this helps keep the purple coleslaw and delicious roll on the crispy-crunchy tip. They do offer a rather thin sauce on the side that I was mildly skeptical of. Until I poured some of the sweet stuff on. Holy moly. Fantastic.

Of course, the BF kept it real by ordering an avocado bacon cheeseburger. While he was briefly distracted by the college football game on the big screen, I took advantage by stealing some avocado and bacon. Delish. Then I acted super nonchalant and asked after his burger. He explained that it had a really homemade feel. Like the patty was hand formed instead of that frozen cookie cutter nonsense at lots of burger joints. Oh, and the taste was good.

Though I was pretty concerned with chowing down, I did notice customers coming through the doors. In droves. By the time we left, just about every booth was filled up. Guess we're just early birds?

Since we were sort of in the hood, we headed down to Galco's in Highland Park, another spot that's been on our must-see list. Galco's is this awesome shop that carries specialty sodas, liquor and candies. But mostly sodas. Aisles and aisles of sodas.

We first became intrigued with Galco's when our boy Huell Howser did not one, but two specials on the place. How could we resist? I was surprised to see practically all varieties of Faygo--I had no idea it was available outside the Midwest! We also got a kick out of some of the cheekier brand names: Rat Bas*#$d Root Beer: Tastes like a Son-of-B%^#h or Obama: Yes We Can Cola and, of course Pure McCain Cola. We left the store with a cart full of loot. Since I'm all weddings, all the time, I'm thinking of serving all sorts of fun gourmet sodas instead of the big name varieties at the reception next year. Thoughts?

Word Up!

2009-09-27T07:47:00.000-07:00

When I started blogging, I was super intrigued by these thoughtful little badges/shout outs that bloggers awarded each other with. Though, I suppose if we're being completely honest, I should just come out and say that I reaaallllyyyy wanted one. And! Joy of joys, this week, I was given two!

Award #1:

On Thursday, the uber fashionable Amy Kelinda over at kelinda.Kelinda gave me the "Kreativ Blogger" award. Woo-hoo!

The rules are:

1) Thank the person who gave this to me: Thanks so much Amy! Thursday was a bit on the stressful side and seeing this shout out brightened my day. :)

2) Copy the Logo and place it your blog: Check.

3) Link the person who nominated you: Amy Kelinda at kelinda.Kelinda. Endless outfit inspiration!

4) Name 7 things about yourself that no one would really know: Oooh, I love things like this! Check it out below.

5) Nominate 7 Kreativ Bloggers: No sweat--see below my "7 things."

6) Post links to the 7 blogs you nominate: Sure, sure. I know how to use the linky thingy.

7) Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know you nominated them: Will do!

Now, the 7 Things You Probably Don't Know About Me:

1. I was born in Hawaii and as a wee tot, I would tell anyone who'd listen, "I'm not American, I'm Hawaiian." But don't tell anyone in the birther movement that.

2. Unsweetened black iced tea is my favorite drink, ever.

3. In college, I interned at a music magazine. Some highlights: meeting Perry Farrell during a interview in sketchy neighborhood downtown and rejecting advances from a slightly tipsy Jesse Hughes.

4. I bought my wedding dress last weekend. Eek!

5. I played Shelby in my high school's production of Steel Magnolias.

6. As a teenager, I spent a few summers in Wisconsin. My family always requested I bring back cheese, sausages and other Midwest savories. So, on the plane rides home, aside from my Jansport, my carry on luggage included a large styrofoam bait bucket filled with ice and assorted meat products.

7. The BF first caught my eye in a Shakespeare class. It wasn't until the next term, in an American Lit class, that I started putting on the moves.

And I nominate...

1. -K- at East of West L.A.
2. Denise at The Photoboutique
3. Bookfool at Bookfoolery and Babble
4. K and T at Tam & Kris Present
5. John Mutford at The Book Mine Set
6. lisamm at Books on the Brain
7. Diabolina at My Super Sweet Fashion Diary

----

Award #2

Izzy J of Historically Obsessed (enthusiast of all things historical fiction and therefore, gal after my own heart) royally hooked it up by giving me a Super Scribbler Award.

This award's rules are:

Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends. Hooray! See below.

Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author & the name of the blog from whom he/she has received The Award. Izzy J at Historically Obsessed. Done and done.

Each Superior Scribbler must display The Award on his/her blog, and link to This Post, which explains The Award. Check.

Each Blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit this post and add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List. That way, we'll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives This Prestigious Honor! Certainly.

Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog. Of course. I'm quite law abiding.

And now, my five Superior Scribbler Awards:

1. Joanna at All is Full of Love
2. Christine at Book Tumbling
3. Maggie at Maggie Reads
4. Stefanie at So Many Books
5. Melanie at The Indextrious Reader

Thanks again to Amy and Izzy for the bloggy love. And, of course, thanks to my fantastic readers, commenters and followers. Hope everyone enjoys their Sunday! :)

Cry Me a River

2009-09-24T21:20:00.000-07:00

Today, those snoopy peeps over at Booking Through Thursday want to know:

What’s the saddest book you’ve read recently?

The Road by Cormac McCarthy. Absolute tear fest. However, it was also superbly touching. I believe I called my dad soon after finishing it up. Not sure if I'll be able to make it through the film adaptation out later this year. I'm a bit of a crier. Just a bit.

Any recent reads that caused you to bust out the kleenex?

Pass Fail

2009-09-23T21:34:00.000-07:00

Remember a few weeks back when I complained how occasionally, my mornings are devoted to searching for my bus pass? Well, on Monday and Tuesday, it really was nowhere to be found. I had to pay fares each way. Then, then! This morning, it occurred to me that the pass might have gone through the laundry... I checked the pocket of a pair of jeans I wore on Friday. There I found a crumbled, peeling, yet still recognizable pass.

I wasn't sure what bus drivers would have to say about the mangled mess so I packed some extra dough and hoped for the best. Right after I snapped the above pic, a bus pulled up. I hopped on and...

Bus Driver: Good Morning Miss.

Me (holding out wretched excuse for a pass): Morning, um hey. My pass went through the washer and, well.

Bus Driver (chuckling): Go ahead.

Happily, the rest of the day went pretty similar. Let's hope the pass survives September's last days.

Mixed Blessings

2009-09-21T21:46:00.000-07:00

Finished up Blessings during this morning's commute. While reading, I found myself super skeptical. Anna Quindlen throws this gang of misfit characters together. And they get along swimmingly. And why shouldn't they? For starters, none go by their actual names--it's moniker city around Blessings. Then there are the secrets, the misunderstandings, overcompensating for their pasts and on and on.

See, Blessings (owned by the Blessing Family) is this huge old school estate in the itty bitty town of Mount Mason. It's the kind of town where everyone knows everything about everyone. Not exactly my kind of place. And yet, on the sprawling grounds of Blessings, Quindlen creates a world within a world where secrets are safe. Sort of.

The novel opens up with a darn chilly scene--in the cowardice of night, two teens abandon their newborn. At Blessings. Only, they're not planners (obviously) so rather than leave the baby at the front door, they ditch the poor thing at the less impressive groundskeepers house.

Clearly, the bad news parents hoped richie-rich recluse Mrs. Blessing would assume care of the tot. However, it's Skip Cuddy (Groundskeeper Skippy, if you will) who finds, nurtures, cares for and eventually lives for the little one.

"This is Faith," he said. "She's not mine. Or she's kind of mine. Whatever. I'm her father. I found her by the garage in June and I've been taking care of her ever since."

Ah, father daughter relationships. Seems like I can't escape these things lately. Not necessarily a bad thing though.

Over the weekend, I had some wedding business to take care of. Fashionable Ro, the BF's mom my grandma and I drove up the 5. Then back down. Then back up. Aye yi yi. But, very fun times. Later in the evening, Ro and I set off by ourselves in search of bridesmaids dresses. Sadly, no dice. But we did stumble upon these L.A.M.B. lovelies at Neiman Marcus Last Call. I think we need them.

Check out the ultra hottie-hottie Shasta McSecretary pair on Ro. Wowzers.

And then, there are these cut out cuties I tried on. Note the random flip flops--we hoped to show off the heel height. I was kind of a giant in these babies.

We also grubbed on tableside s'mores for dinner. Yes, dinner.

What about you my sweets? How did your weekends go?

Goody Price

2009-09-17T21:24:00.000-07:00

This time around, Booking it Through Thursday wonders:

What’s the most enjoyable, most fun, most just-darn-entertaining book you’ve read recently?

(Mind you, this doesn’t necessarily mean funny, since we covered that already. Just … GOOD.)

Ooh, toughie. I've read lots of goodies lately. However, one stuck out in my head: The Posionwood Bible. I loveloveloved this book. Read it every free moment I had--I even packed it in my carry on luggage to Reno. Kingsolver created a world that was simply engaging. I thought about the characters when I wasn't reading, I worried for them when I was. Such deliciousness.

What about you, my goody two shoes? What recent good books have you come across?

Hmm...speaking of shoes, I'm thinking about splurging on the wedding kicks. Eek!

Lovely shoe image from Neiman Marcus. Drool...

Experimental Phase

2009-09-17T19:54:00.001-07:00

Such a strange week.

On Tuesday morning, I waited at my transfer spot to catch the rapid--just across the way from a Starbucks. Rarely, very, very rarely do I pop in for a morning treat. I've stopped in there maybe four times since I started busing waaay back in October. But on Tuesday, after consulting the Google Maps app, I discovered that the next bus was about 10 minutes away. Surely enough time for me to run into Starbucks.

I walked through the double doors and BOOM. The aroma of espresso and vanilla and chocolate and...bacon?! Headed to the counter and was greeted by a hipster barista gal.

Me: Morning, can I please have a grande iced coffee and one of those sandwiches on ciabatta bread?

Hipster Barista Gal (slightly annoyed) : Actually, it's artisanal bread.

Me: Um, okay. The artisanal sandwich then.

Hipster Barista Gal (sighs) : And do you want the bacon or the ham?

Me: Bacon.

Of course, my iced coffee was ready in seconds. I headed over to the dairy/napkins/trash cart to add a bit of half and half and sweetener. A large, very beefy, very tough looking gentleman wearing fancy jeans and an Afflicition tee poured skim milk into his cup. I picked up the half and half pitcher and absently wondered why the stream flowed so slowly. Then. The lid of the pitcher flew off. Seriously flew--across the store. I never recovered it. Half and half went EVERYWHERE. All over me, the floor, the cart and Tough Guy standing next to me.

Me: Ohmygod! Ohmygod! I'm so sorry! Did any get on you?

Tough Guy (not to thrilled): Yeah. A little.

My mind raced. I thought of the dry cleaners across the street. I should offer to pay for cleaning right? Oh, gosh, is he going to chew me out? I grabbed napkins by the fist full and tried wiping up the mess. My eyes started to well up. Mostly, I was embarrassed as hell.

Tough Guy (likely taking pity): But, you know what?

Me: Huh?

Tough Guy: Nobody ever cried over spilt milk, right? Hey, I hope your rest of the day's better.

I continued wiping and cleaning and tossing and repeating for what seemed like hours. While in the midst of my milk madness, I glanced over to the cash register area more than a few times. Hipster Barista Gal totally avoided eye contact with me! The store wasn't even busy--the whole time I scrubbed away, no more than three customers placed orders.

Now, before I'm written off as an enemy to baristas everywhere, know this: I spent some time in college rocking the green apron. And whenever a customer made a mess, as they often did, we rushed over to clean it right away. Partly because it's sticky and requires some actual cleaning product instead of dry napkins. But mostly because customers--if they even bothered trying to tidy up--made a worse mess of the situation by just spreading everything around. Sigh.

Yesterday I stayed at the office a little later than normal. By the time I caught the bus home, I was starving. I've heard nothing but fabulous things about Loteria Grill so I figured I'd grab a quick dinner at the Farmer's Market location on the way home. After paying $16 for three carnitas tacos, chips and guacamole, I hoped for the best.

See, I really wanted to love this. Truly, I did. If only for monetary reasons--I kept imagining how much tasty grub I could get at an OC Alberto's for considerably less. The tacos were passable. The guacamole, well, I've certainly had much better. A very disappointing dinner.

But, things perked up when I realized I had a bit of time to kill before the next bus swung by. So, I headed to nearby Starbucks--thankfully a different one from the previous day's fiasco. I ordered the super low maintenance mocha frappuccino. I inserted my straw and caught the bus right away.

There's something to be said for routine, no?

Current read is Blessings by Anna Quindlen. A very quick read--I'll likely finish it up tomorrow morning. After The Impostor's Daughter, I hoped for something very different. Alas, not the case. More soon.

I Do Mondays

2009-09-14T20:08:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, Fashionable Ro and I stopped by Anthropologie to get some ideas for wedding threads. I planned on busting out my inner Rachel Zoe--I had visions of pulling racks of clothing for Ro to try on. Sadly though, the selection at the Glendale Anthropologie was super sparse. Boo.

For reasons unknown to any who've glanced inside a crayola box, Anthro describes this color as red. Coral, yes. Pink, sure. Orange, maybe. But red? No way. I'm still undecided about bridesmaids gear. But I do think Ro needs to add it to her closet regardless. Isn't she too adorable in this?

While digging through racks for bridesmaids ideas, we stumbled upon this lovely number that Ro demanded I try on. Sigh. Doesn't it scream engagement party? Or rehearsal dinner?

A few weeks ago, my dear friend Meg invited me to be her plus one at a Wedding Salon held this afternoon at The London in West Hollywood. See, Meg is a (super talented!) wedding photographer so she always has the inside scoop on all things bridal. But! The waay exciting bit is that Meg got engaged just a spell ago so we got to attend the event not as photographer and bride but as bride and bride. Too cool, right?! FYI, I took all the pix below with my iphone. Cleary, Meg's work is well...go check it out.

We sampled some huge slices of tasty cake. Though I really could have used a glass of milk.

Meg was excited to check out the bridesmaids dresses by twobirds. Especially since one of Meg's bridesmaids (and also an awesome photog), Heather rallied at The London with us.

While I remain totally undecided on my dress for the big day, I've said again and again that I wanted something simple. Understated. Plain. But then. I saw this gal rocking Monique Lhuillier. Um, yowza.

I've been thinking a lot about The Impostor's Daughter over the past week. Sandell presents this wholly intimate work. While reading, I often found myself hoping she wouldn't act so aggressively toward her mother or so self-destructive in her romantic adventures. It was like...watching a friend. Cringe worthy to be sure. Sandell's illustrations, while not exactly whimsy, really do provide a buffer from the content. As The Impostor's Daughter is packed with family drama, experiencing such heaviness in a lovely colorful medium makes it more accessible. Also, it's hilarious--one of the funnier scenes involves Laurie coming to terms with her Ambien addiction. She explains that "'sleep-eating' was a known side effect of Ambien: I had started waking up with prepared plates a food in my bed." Laurie awakes in bed to find "Cheese. Crackers. Knife. (Hey, at least I was classy.)" HA!

Here, Laurie's feeling confused, conflicted, the whole lot. Her article exposing her father's impostoring (yes, impostoring) has been published. All I could think of however, was The Devil Wears Prada. The hair, the boots, the magazines! The movie came out right as I graduated college. Fashionable Ro, her sister and I saw it opening weekend. As we walked out of the theater, Ro said "Oh, you're Andy! You're going to be like Andy!" I nodded my head eagerly. Soon after, I ran out and got the Andy/Anne Hathaway haircut. Thankfully, the bangs grew out.

Illustration from Laurie Sandell.

Daddy's Girl

2009-09-11T16:49:00.000-07:00

When I came back from lunch this afternoon, this email was waiting for me. Ah, yes, the BF's name is Chris.

From: Dad

Date: Fri, 11 Sep 2009 13:42:12 -0700 (PDT)
To: rosemary
Subject: none

How's things? Just caught up on your blog. In the past you said (maybe I misunderstood) you wanted a book of a never ending story? One you could reread over and over. You do. It's called life, you are writing it every day. Yes even if it's not what we wanted or how we planned it. We adjust, make of it what we can. I'm glad you picked Chris to be your husband. Talk to you soon.
Love Ya!
Dad

Informer or Straight outta Toronto

2009-09-10T19:50:00.000-07:00

This week, Booking Through Thursday asks:

What’s the most informative book you’ve read recently?

After much consideration, the winner is Life of Pi. Prior to Pi and Richard Parker, my knowledge of zookeeping practices was pretty nonexistent. Ditto for survival on a life raft. Though, if I suddenly found myself cracking a whip to train an insolent tiger (be it in a zoo cage or at sea), I won't even kid myself into imagining that I'd stand half a chance.

What say you, my informers? What informative goodies have you come across lately?

Make Friends and Influence People

2009-09-09T20:43:00.000-07:00

Back in my driving days, I often stopped by the Starbucks at The Farmer's Market on my way to work. While the hustle of the crowds during the busier hours is quite literally a feast for the senses, there is something to be said about the peaceful feeling brought on by an empty group of tables in so early in the morning.

Around 8 or so this morning, I revisited my old hot spot to swing by Bob's Coffee & Doughnuts.

I'm certainly not the biggest fan of doughnuts but, truth be told, I'd volunteered to bring in AM goodies and they seemed easiest. So then, I bellied up to the counter and...

Holy moly. The aroma of coffee mixed with fried dough and sugar and chocolate and maple and sprinkles (yes sprinkles) and coconut flakes and certainly fairy dust caused my knees to buckle. Also, I may have drooled. Okay, I did. Just a wee bit, though.

With two boxes of doughnuts in my arms, I walked back to the bus stop. And boy, did I get some stares. A bit of advice: when you're having a crummy day, even a so-so day, carry a box of doughnuts while walking down a busy street. Every single person you pass (walker, driver, teenage hooligan) will make eye contact with you and smile. Their eyebrows raise, their faces glow and those corners of the mouth will start reaching for the ears. When I got on the bus again, I swear, every set of eyes followed those boxes until I took my seat.

On Saturday, I started The Impostor's Daughter by Laurie Sandell. On Saturday night, I finished it. I think it's been labeled a graphic novel...only it's a memoir. A "true memoir." Hmm...

It's easy to throw Sandell under the bus--she's created a tell all book exposing (one might argue selling out) her father. See, he is a con man. Through swindling, intelligence and luck, he's been a university professor, stolen untold amounts of cash from those who unfortunately trusted him and supported a family of five.

I've met more than a few people over the years who hold on to grudges against their parents. I'll not name names, but these resentments range from the ridiculous ("at my 5th birthday, my mom started singing before I was ready!" Not even kidding) to the unmentionable. And while we complain to others or bemoan internally, how many willingly share their woes with the world? This act alone is pretty brave. Not only does Sandell tell the story of her questionable father, she tells and illustrates her own. Without sugar coating it.

Stripper in Tokyo, accompanied by drawings. Ambien junkie/wino, accompanied by drawings. Screaming matches with loved ones, accompanied by drawings.

What I found most intriguing about it all was Sandell's big break as a writer. While entertaining her friends with tales of her father's transgressions, one friend "who was an editor at a prestigious men's magazine" suggests she write an article about the madness. Um, like whoa. Were it not for her father, would she have still been a successful writer? Hard to say.

One thing I do take issue with is this. Laurie's gig as a celeb interviewer requires lots of trips to LA where she stays (exclusively, it seems) at The Chateau Marmont. She doesn't exactly love LA. A scene of the hotel's lobby with labels and arrows directed at people's heads (hipster, B-list celebrity, aspiring actor, hanger on) accompanies this:

"The one thing that made it OK to go to L.A. so often was visiting Ben. I would have been so lonely among those flashy, fake people without him."

Really? Fake people at The Chateau? Color me surprised. Of course there are loads of these characters there. To assume that such a group represents an even mildly accurate representation of LA peeps as a whole is laughable.

But, don't get it twisted. Still loving this book. More soon.

Behind the Scenes

2009-09-08T18:59:00.000-07:00

An hour or so before the BF proposed, I was riding a rapid bus home from work. A few minutes after I climbed aboard, the bus stopped and picked up quite a few passengers, including a determined looking woman in gray sweats. Determined not because it looked like she had a specific purpose about her, but determined as though she'd led a life of staying a step or so ahead of the game. I'd glanced at her, only briefly noticing her focused expression and a vague representation of her garments, before reluctantly settling back into Infinite Jest.

But then. A few squeals and the familiar sense of commotion near the front of the bus. When something happens on board: a passenger falls, an empty soda can rolls according to the bus' inertia, doors swoosh open, you'll feel the event sight unseen. A change in pressure, noises registering in previously silent spots. It's an odd phenomenon.

I closed Infinite Jest (rather than saving my place) and looked up. The woman in the gray sweats sat alone on the right side of the bus' handicapped/elderly section. Facing her, though not looking directly at her, was a group of teenage girls squirming and covering their mouths. Before I could form a thought to pass judgement on the girls, the smell hit me. I took a more lasting look at the woman sitting alone. Her sweats were possibly not sweats at all; the clothes were so weathered, so dirty that it was hard to determine their sartorial origins. They could have been denim, wool, even tweed. As we bounded along, most passengers moved to the rear of the bus or clamoured for the exits whenever we approached a stop.

Throughout her time on the bus, she sat up straight, taking in her fellow passengers' reactions, completely lucid to the hubbub around her. At one point though, she hung her head low, slumped her shoulders, sighed and then stood up. The bus went silent. She calmly walked to opposite side of the bus, much to the horror of those occupying these seats, and pulled open the front windows. She then returned to her side of the bus and did the same. Taking her seat, her shoulders no longer sagged. Again, she sat up straight and looked around the bus, almost haughtily inviting a challenge.

When she got off the bus in Hollywood, all tension evaporated. Passengers shook their heads and smiled. For the rest of the time I was on that rapid and I'm certain well after I left, one of the teenager girls stood guard making it a point to warn others not to sit in the seat formerly occupied by you know who. The teen even offered up her own seat to an elderly woman who was determined to sit down.

I felt so conflicted about the whole experience. Often we bus riders (me included) tend to write off the occasional smelly passenger as an unbalanced homeless person. Sadly, they often are. Oblivious to others, they'll have arguments with themselves or overcrowd the little personal space of unfortunate riders. However, this woman was different. She could tell that the snickers and mean comments and changes in location had everything to do with her.

It broke my heart that she opened up all those windows. No one wants to be in such a position, no one wants to cause such a stir. Yet, she was absolutely with it. She knew people were moving away from her; she knew that the bus was much lighter because of her; she knew that the eye rolls and glares directed toward the driver for allowing such to happen on his watch were really, albeit passive aggressively, meant for her.

Can you imagine such a burden?

I try to stay away from the word "juxtaposition" because it reminds me so much of dealing with showy literature students. But after I got home, shouted "Of course!" between tears and laughter, enjoyed a celebratory dinner and made more happy phone calls than I can remember, I could think of no better characterization for my day. Suggestions are welcome.

Mixed Bag Monday

2009-09-07T17:36:00.000-07:00

I really love to cook. Whenever I have an extra day off, it's always a thrill to put the good old Wüstof Santoku to work. However, the BF and I have been known to find just about any excuse to bust out this kitchen weaponry: cutting fruit, veggies, the occasional stick of butter...

Now, I'm certainly not the best cook on the block, but I can follow a recipe like nobody's business. Most of the time.

A few months back, my foodie friend R suggested I try The Foodinista's pasta e fagioli. I've made it few times now and it seems like no matter what ingredients or measurements I alter, the good stuff always comes out, well, amazing. This time around, I used mini wheel pasta and bacon as I didn't have orecchiette or pancetta on hand. I was also short a can of beans. Whoops. As usual though, the soup was delish and I have a week's worth of lunches as well as some containers bound for the freezer. Yum!

Late Saturday night, I finished The Impostor's Daughter. Whoa. Heavy. Clever. Beautiful. Inspirational. I'm still trying to wrap my thoughts around it all. In the meantime, my extremely brilliant and worldly friend "GladysG" recently sent out the request italicized below. Now, we (meaning me) here at Booking it Bus Style try not to get too involved in popularity contests. But, GladysG is not only a friend, she's also a proponent of something uber near and dear to my heart: public transportation. Her entry sings the praises of LA's own Union Station.

Dear Friends and Family:

Some of you know that I recently started writing travel reviews for a Web site called Trazzler.com, under pen name GladysG (in honor of Judy Holliday's role in It Should Happen to You). The commissions came about when I won Trazzler's contest themed "work of art." I've entered their latest contest -- on the theme of "oasis," with a grand prize of two weeks' writing residency in New York -- and I am a semifinalist!

My getting to the final round depends on how popular my trip is. Would you please help me out by "wish listing" it? You do need to set up a Trazzler login and password, but it's free, they don't ask for much personal information, and you can, like me, identify yourself under an alias if you don't want to use your real name.

Those of you who use Facebook can link your account to Trazzler and log in that way. And if you are one of those FB users with hundreds of friends, please ask them to vote for GladysG!! Others can log in as follows:

- Visit here.

- Click "Sign In or Sign Up" in the upper right corner

- Click "Sign Up" under "No Facebook account?" (I know, they totally want you to use FB...)

- Fill in the form to process

- Return here and click "add to wishlist" under the photo

PASS IT ON!

N.B.: More than five votes from the same IP address gets me disqualified.

Thank you very much for your vote. Feel welcome to wish list GladysG's other trips, too!

Wonderful stuff, right? Thanks in advance for reading GladysG's musings. And an extra special thanks if you voted for her. ;)

Los Feliz Saturdays vol. 12

2009-09-05T16:33:00.000-07:00

Such a strange start to the long weekend. Yesterday, my apartment building was taken over by a film crew. Around 10:30pm, they used these ridiculously bright lights in the courtyard. Like most summer nights, I had my windows wide open, hoping for a breeze. The lights flooded my living room and the director's loud shouts of "Annnnd, action!" almost put a damper on my own film night. I finally sat down to watch Russian Dolls and I was determined to filter out the bossy cries of the director and focus on those of Xavier. Le sigh.

Russian Dolls is the sequel to The Spanish A partment--I love both of these films. Both provide that sort of catalyst that makes you want to drop everything and run away to Europe. Or, if that's not entirely possible, they make you want to at least go out and get lost in your own city. Allons-y!

This morning, the BF and I bused it to the Americana in Glendale. The BF's decided to wear a khaki suit for the wedding so we hit up H&M and J.Crew to check out their wares. I think this dapper gem from J.Crew is the winner.

Because the lack of In-n-Out locations on our side of town is such a downer, whenever we're in Glendale, we make it a point to chow down double-double style.

And chow we did.

When we arrived home, a brown boxed surprise was waiting on our doorstep. A few weeks back, the wonderfully witty Bookfool over at Bookfoolery and Babble hosted a giveaway for The Impostor's Daughter by Laurie Sandell. And lucky duck me, I won! It was an extremely lucky day--it was the same day the BF proposed! So then, I tore open the box with glee and may have done a little dance upon seeing the gorgeous cover art staring back at me. I think it's time for another break from Infinite Jest.

And you my dears? Any fun three day weekend plans? BBQ, football, shopping?

Suit image from J.Crew.

Week in Review

2009-09-03T20:24:00.000-07:00

Yesterday afternoon, I called the BF right before I left the office. It went to voicemail. I figured he was in traffic and not answering his phone. However, at that moment, he was actually pulling into my building's parking lot. He planned on surprising me with a ride home. But. Silly me, I walked out of the building and straight to the bus stop. Boarded the rapid and headed home. I didn't check my phone (which was on silent!) until I made my transfer in Los Feliz. The BF had waited in the office's lot for 45 minutes! Communication FAIL. However, we did have something of a laugh about it once we were both home.

This morning, as I was chugging through Infinite Jest, I noticed a familiar face board my local bus shortly after I climbed on. When I got off the bus to make my transfer and the familiar face did the same, I knew it! He and I work for the same company. Different departments, though.

Me: Hey, do you work for TGIF?

TGIF is not really my company's name. But I do tend to refer to it by its acronym. Most employees do. Most of us.

Familiar face: Huh? Uh...

Me: (silently) Oh no. I've mistaken him for someone else. And now he thinks I'm hitting on him. Gah!

Familiar face: Oh! Oh, you mean Thank God It's Friday! Right, yeah, I do. I work in advertising. And you?

Thankfully, the awkwardness was gone and we had a hilarious conversation about the reactions we receive when other peeps find out we bus it. Everything from sympathy to horror.

Lastly, some sad news. I recently found out that my dear Aunt J was diagnosed with breast cancer. It runs in our family; my Grandma is a survivor of over 10 years. She and I try to do the OC Komen walk every year. Thankfully, Aunt J's doctor's caught it early and they feel surgery should put the brakes on the badness. I debated on posting this--it's such a personal and obviously emotional topic. I'll leave you to imagine the wreck I was in when I first heard the news. But in the end, I decided to go with it. Aunt J is a pretty regular reader of the blog and if anyone needs a shout out or a virtual hug, it's her. Love you Aunt J!

A pic from my college graduation with some of my favorite women in the world, including Aunt J. Since my mom's mysteriously missing from this pic, I'm convinced she was the one behind the camera. Left to right: me, Grandma, BF's mom, Aunt J, Aunt T and cousin Helen (aka Barbie car crusher).

No Biggie Smalls

2009-09-03T18:37:00.000-07:00

So, I sorta fell off the Booking Through Thursday wagon. Oopsies. Here's this week's prompt:

What’s the biggest book you’ve read recently? (Feel free to think “big” as size, or as popularity, or in any other way you care to interpret.)

This one is a no brainer. Infinite Jest. Huge (1079 pages) and for reasons unknown to me, hugely popular. When a friend at work noticed Woman Hollering Creek on my desk a few weeks back, she laughed and asked "Where's your tome?"

What about you, my lovelies? What biggie books have you read recently?

Rollin' on 14s

2009-08-31T18:39:00.000-07:00

Friday's wedding errand was a blast. I met the BF's mom at a potential wedding venue. Eeek, for fear of jinxing myself, I'll not go too much into the deets until we get confirmation. But, ooh wee, what gorgeousness.

Later in the afternoon, I met up Fashionable Ro for some wedding window shopping at South Coast Plaza and Irvine Spectrum. Can I tell you how thrilled I was to offer to pick her up for a change? Since I ditched the car last year, Ro has graciously driven every single time we see each other. Sometimes she even picks me up from LA to hang out in OC. Such a gal!

We saw a few bits of loveliness for possible bridesmaids dresses. Thoughts? I'd especially love to hear what L's Bells (aka BFF Lauren) has to say! I'm hoping that if we pick either of these frocks, they'll go on sale well before the big day. I am all about saving dough on this shin dig.

Ro and I concluded our shopping adventures in the best possible way. Under the lights of the Spectrum ferris wheel with treats from Golden Spoon.

Getting behind the wheel again was...awesome. After I picked up the rental on Thursday, I was giddy driving home. Picking my route, setting the radio stations, heading to the grocery store just because. Oh, what fun. It made me really pine for having my own wheels again. Sigh. And! Rather than an Aveo, the rental was an adorable 4-door Yaris.

Gas snake not included, happily. One huge thing I forgot about driving: the same 5 songs are played over and over and over again. I heard "Hotel Room Service" by Pit Bull about 3 million times over the course of 3 days. Also, what the heck is an "ice-cream paint job?" Um, maybe I don't want to know...

Pink dress image from Anthropologie.
Orange dress image also from Anthropologie.
Yaris image from Toyota.

Los Feliz Saturdays vol. 11

2009-08-30T18:42:00.001-07:00

From wikipedia: In aesthetics, the sublime (from the Latin sublimis ([looking up from] under the lintel, high, lofty, elevated, exalted) is the quality of greatness or vast magnitude, whether physical, moral, intellectual, metaphysical, aesthetic, spiritual or artistic. The term especially refers to a greatness with which nothing else can be compared and which is beyond all possibility of calculation, measurement or imitation.

For a clearer, creepier image of the fire, visit this awesome blog.

Upon Further Review

2009-08-26T20:38:00.000-07:00

On Friday afternoon, I've got some wedding errands (eek!) to run in OC; I've decided to rent a car so I can book it down there lickedy split. I thought it might be fun to rent a hybrid but, um, hello! They're mad expensive. And only available at certain rental branches: Santa Monica or LAX. Friday's forecast: sunny with a chance of Chevy Aveo or similar.

I reluctantly returned to Infinite Jest earlier this week. Surprise of surprises, I'm not hating it! Just as a smarty pants writer predicted, I'm getting used to DFW's odd style. The passages I soldiered through today went back and forth between Ennet House (a rehab/halfway facility) and ETA (the fancy schmancy tennis academy). Weeks ago, when I started Infinite Jest, the back and forth, tangents, end notes and the rest were so jarring and difficult. It made me question my literary analysis, not to mention reading, abilities. I had to chuckle when DFW listed the many things one discovers while in a substance abuse program.

"That certain persons simply will not like you no matter what you do. Then that most nonaddicted adult civilians have already absorbed and accepted this fact, often rather early on. That no matter how smart you thought you were, you are actually way less smart than that."

Touché, DFW. This bit sort of talked me down off the ledge. At 200 pages in, I've gathered that Infinite Jest tries to change your perceptions of what reading, character development, even a story, are supposed to be. Once you let go of these ideas, the novel is not as torturous. It might even get a tad enjoyable.

Aveo image from Enterprise.

Proceed with Caution

2009-08-25T22:53:00.001-07:00

While this PSA from the UK is making the rounds on blogs and such everywhere, I still felt the need to share. Almost every day while preparing to use a crosswalk, even if I have the right of way, I fearfully notice drivers texting or talking on their cell phones. Cautiously, I hesitate on the curb. Often, drivers will zip by, oblivious to pedestrians, other drivers and traffic laws. Sometimes, they'll stop suddenly, only to sheepishly smile and wave at me as if to say "Oh, pardon. I almost just ran you the f-over."

Los Feliz Saturdays vol. 10

2009-08-23T17:25:00.000-07:00

Most of my Saturday was spent in OC; my little brother's hip hop dance crew (look out ABDC!) had their first recital. We were treated to an awesome performance as well as a delicious dinner from "The Taco Man;" they make several different tacos on site with all the yummy fixin's you could possibly want. I scooped up one of the company's cards; I think it'd be a neat departure from the usual chicken/beef/rice pilaf standard at most wedding receptions. Thoughts?

Earlier today, the BF and I headed to the Atwater Village Farmer's Market. I've been meaning to check it out for ages but somehow the weekends always seem to get away from me. One of our first stops was Big Mista's Barbecue booth. When the lovely woman shouting out orders offered me a free rib, I decided to grab lunch from there. But then again, it's a cold day in hell when I pass up barbecue. I ordered the Mini Mista: pulled pork sandwich, mac and cheese and a drink. Heaven!

Note the bbq sauce all over as well as the graffiti on the back wall. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: if you want beef, then bring the ruckus.

Finished up Woman Hollering Creek earlier this week. A tad embarrassed to report that I failed to return to Infinite Jest on Friday. Sigh, I will tomorrow. But gah! How awesome is Cisneros? In "Bien Pretty," she touches the relationship between comfort and vicinity to water. Sound familiar? An art director relocates to San Antonio from San Francisco, partly for a new job, but mostly to get away from her trifling ex.

"A month hadn't passed since I unpacked the van, but I'd already convinced myself San Antonio was a mistake. I couldn't understand how any Spanish priest in his right mind decided to sit right down in the middle of nowhere and build a mission with no large body of water for miles. I'd always lived near the ocean. I felt landlocked and dusty. Light so white it left me dizzy, sun bleached as an onion."

While it's certainly true that visiting a beach often turns a frown upside down, I think the bigger picture is this character's isolation. Completely new territory, no friends, unfamiliar with her surroundings. Of course she's going to feel out of place--who wouldn't? Years ago, when I lived on the Westside, I was miserable. It was my first time on my own, I didn't know my way around and though my loved ones were just an hour or so away, I felt completely alone. And like Cisneros' gal, it wasn't until I made friends and became more acclimated that I grew comfortable. I suppose being pretty close to the water didn't hurt either.

Life in Plastic

2009-08-18T19:41:00.000-07:00

"The day you get engaged is the day you take off from reading Infinite Jest," said a bookish, bus riding friend. Hear, hear, man!

So then, why is it that today, Tuesday, I'm still taking a break from Infinite Jest? I'm hoping to return the monster on Friday. We'll see how that shakes out. In the meantime, I simply can't cruise metro sans book. The solution? Revisit an old friend: Woman Hollering Creek and Other Stories by Sandra Cisneros. If there's one thing I love love love in the world of literature it's a short story. Is there anything more gratifying than consuming 16 different stories in two days? Cisneros' style is beautifully descriptive and completely accessible.

"Every time the same story. Your Barbie is roommates with my Barbie, and my Barbie's boyfriend comes over and your Barbie steals him, okay? Kiss kiss kiss. Then the two Barbies fight. You dumbbell! He's mine. Oh no he's not, you stinky! Only Ken's invisible, right? Because we don't have money for a stupid-looking boy doll when we'd both rather ask for a new Barbie outfit for Christmas."

Who can't relate to that juicy goodness from "Barbie-Q?!" As little kiddies, my next door neighbor Carolina and I played Barbies for hours on end. Between the two of us we had about 20 Barbies, 1 Ken and 2 NKOTB dolls--Donnie and Joey, if you're curious. But what's really telling and fascinating about this passage is Cisneros' combination of the familiarly scandalous Barbie play with the deeper social reality; the girls don't have a Ken because they can't afford one. It's sad, yes, but Cisneros doesn't dwell on this; she doesn't need to because the story plays out on its own.
Unfortunately, I couldn't find a "Barbie Take the Bus" pic. Side note: I believe the day my childhood ended was when my baby cousin Helen (now 20) sat her diapered rump down on my Barbie's VW Cabriolet. What.the.f. You might say I still harbor a grudge about the incident.

Barbie image from Toys R Us.

Los Feliz Saturdays vol. 9

2009-08-16T14:46:00.000-07:00

Actually, let's dish about Friday, shall we? A co-worker and I started the weekend off right by meeting Fashionable Ro at the Convention Center to scour the goods at the Barneys Warehouse Sale. My first words to Ro were "Take me to DVF!" She did, but unfortunately, all I found in my size (and price range) was a jumper. Not going to happen. However, while in search of DVF for myself, I came across a strapless multi color dress that screamed Ro. It's "officially" a swimsuit cover up (and quite similar to the gem below) but we are going to consider it a dress-dress by throwing on a nude slip underneath.

I scooped up this beautiful plenty by Tracy Reece top for just $60. Such a deal, right?!

Also, Ro kindly offered to purchase this super cute Ella Moss jersey dress for me as a bday/engagement present. Love her!

After the Barneys adventure, Ro and I planned on hitting up Mexico City but sadly, the joint was closed. So, we inhaled fajitas and sipped mojitos and margaritas down the street at Acapulco on Sunset. About an hour later, and feeling a bit tipsy, we ventured over to the nearby Vons to pick up loads and loads of bridal magazines. When I took out my wallet to pay, I realized my debit card was MISSING. Sobered up real fast, btw. I'd just used it at Acapulco so I was convinced it had to still be at there. I ran back to the restaurant and regaled the wonderfully polite hostess with my tale. We walked back to where Ro and I sat.

Polite Hostess: Which one of these guys was your server?
Me: (almost in tears) I don't remember. I was drunk!

Note to self: either beef up alcohol tolerance or use cash while drinking and dining.

Happily, after witnessing my mini meltdown, a sympathetic manager located my missing card. Whew!

8/18 Update: Thanks to Fashionable Ro and my co-worker, I got to enjoy a bus-free afternoon on Friday. Co-worker and I carpooled (in her car, obvs) to the Convention Center and Fashionable Ro kindly drove me to ill fated Acapulco. Also to clarify, Fashionable Ro was completely sober and cool to get behind the wheel. Drinking and driving is not cool. But what is cool are the fantastic Miu Miu wedges co-worker picked up from the Barneys Warehouse Sale; they're quite similar to the beauties below:

Dress image from Shop Bop.
Wedges image from shoeblog.

Five Years in the Making

2009-08-12T21:10:00.001-07:00

A day shy of 27 and the BF has (finally!) made an honest woman out of me. I couldn't be happier.

Help from the Pros

2009-08-11T21:03:00.001-07:00

This morning a co-worker noticed Infinite Jest on my desk. She mentioned that a writer we both know read it a few years back. Apparently he loved it. What the?! Of course, I emailed him right away asking for advice. In less than an hour, he responded with:

Keep going. It doesn't get easier, exactly, but eventually your brain will re-wire itself to ride the wave of DFW's prose, like a reasonably competent surfer on an endless sea of strange.

There are moments in the book that are sublimely wonderful. One is the short bit about the rise and fall of video telephony. Another, much later in the book, is DFW's pages-long explanation of the rules of Eschaton, the game that the tennis geeks play when they're supposed to be practicing, and that combines tennis with game theory, deterrence theory and calculus.

Well, I got through the video telephony bit earlier today. Much better than I expected; it was actually kind of funny. Eschaton sounds like more of a challenge. Surfs up!

Surfing & sign image from NYT. And yes, I'm in doubt.

PS Anyone else see True Life: I'm a Big Wave Surfer a few years back featuring two of the dudes from the NYT article? Me? Oh, I watched it about 17 times.

Always Look on the Bright Side

2009-08-07T20:00:00.000-07:00

A rather frustrating morning. As I waited for the light to change at the cross walk; I watched my local bus pass on by. It was five minutes early. Argh. An early bus is just as bad as a late one; instead of waiting a mild 15 minutes for the next local to cruise up to my stop, it'd be another 20. F-it, I thought, I'll just walk the 15 minutes to the rapid stop and skip over all this local bus anarchy. Too bad that as I headed to the rapid stop, another local and 2 rapids drove past. Seriously, metro? Get your ish together. Run lines on time.

Eventually (30 minutes after I missed the first renegade early bus) I climbed on to a rapid. I saw two seating options: an aisle seat next to a napping hipster, or, a seemingly empty row near the rear of the bus. I chose the latter. Big mistake. I walked up to find a man in the fetal position, possibly crying. Whipped around quickly and made my way to sit next to the hipster. He stirred a little as I took my seat but then quickly settled back down into his parliament and PBR filled dreams. A few minutes into the commute, I noticed two very distinct, earthy scents. The hipster stirred again, revealing the source. He smelled of patchouli and weed. At 7:50 am. Was he really trying to be that much of cliche?

About 20 minutes later, he sat up alert and kept stealing glances at my lap where I held Infinite Jest open to a passage touting the sun protection benefits of Lemon Pledge. Not even kidding. Hipster would occasionally open his mouth; out of the corner of my eye, I'd notice him putting together a thought, then forming an "O" with his lips. Deep insight about Wallace's work and how it changed his life, I'm sure. However, these words were aborted before they took flight; I'd shoot menacing glances at him whenever he tried to instigate conversation. I was in no mood to speak with a sleepy, stinky, morning pot smoker.

A milestone in Infinite Jest! I've made it to page 100! Thankfully, the pages seem to turn faster. In all likelihood, it's simply because I'm getting used to Wallace's style. At first, it was so choppy and unfamiliar. Jumbly sentences went on and on and on. They didn't provide any background or connect to anything going on in the novel. But, now that I know what to expect, I suppose it's not as torturous. My thoughts so far:

1. Does anyone actually like Infinite Jest? At this point, I certainly don't. I'm determined to finish it, which, I realize is kind of a hipsterish thought process. But, if I start a book, I make a point to finish it. There's been one exception.

2. This is not a fun reading. Or even entertaining! I'd prefer reading The Bible. Or a book of literary theory. Or even an instruction manual for bicycle assembly.

3. I'm sort of miffed I bought the book. Yes, yes, it's important to shop at local book stores and of course, I whole heartedly believe in purchasing books, magazines etc. to help lift print media out its crumbling doldrums, but sheesh. Many of the recent books I've read and loved have been library goodies. I'd much rather have spent my hard earned dough on a delicious treat like The Poisonwood Bible or Middlesex. Alas.

4. I'm honestly considering striking the word "like" from my vocabulary. Like, for permanent-like.

5. I was beyond thrilled/hopeful when I read Avery Edison's post on NOT enjoying the book on Infinite Summer. Thrilled because I realize I'm not alone in this disliking book. Hopeful because Edison just wrote a follow up post about LOVING Infinite Jest. Say what?! This is excellent news.

For Serious?!

2009-08-06T21:20:00.000-07:00

Not too long ago, I stumbled upon a fat number of book related blogs. I felt like Littlefoot when he and his pals finally made it to The Great Valley.*
Well, I suppose that might be a bit of an exaggeration. Anywho, many of the book bloggers I follow participate in this lovely meme/blog/thingamabob called Booking Through Thursday (nice title, huh?). So then, this week's prompt is:

What’s the most serious book you’ve read recently? (I figure it’s easier than asking your most serious book ever, because, well, it’s recent!)

It probably seems rather telling that I don't read all that many serious books. It's not that I avoid them; it just happens that the majority of my selections, while they may deal with intense subject matter, are pretty funny. At least to me. Except for Song of Solomon. Though bits and pieces yield chuckles, on the whole, Morrison's novel is darn serious. The characters remain fresh in my mind even now. Sigh.

And you my lovely friends? What is your most recent seriously-serious book? Would you like some recommendations? No problem, here are a few of my fave heavy hitters:

The Street by Ann Petry
Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg
Uncle Tom's Children by Richard Wright

Land Before Time poster from Amazon.
Ssh...can you tell I'm avoiding Infinite Jest? I've made a smidge more of a dent. More details soon!
*Quite similar to my feelings when I came across the fantastic LA transportation blogs.

Get out of Dodge

2009-08-04T19:35:00.000-07:00

For the past week or so, I've taken the local morning bus with a Dodger fan. He wears a puffy blue Dodger jacket everyday. Occasionally, he'll rock the blue LA hat. He sits in the front section of the bus reserved for elderly or disabled riders. He is neither. Just a talker. Each morning when I board the bus, he's chatting up the driver about a game--not always a Dodgers game--but always some sports game. Until this morning. We were productively bouncing along our route until, Dodger fan, a blondish fellow around 19 held up his cell phone to the driver.

Dodger fan: Yo man, check out this pic.

Driver (turning his head): Yeah? What is it?

Dodger fan: This chick I been talking to.

Driver (stops the bus. pulls over the m-f-ing bus.): For real? Lemme see.

Bus is still stopped.

Dodger fan (laughing): She's the sh%t man. Body: banging. Personality: meh. But check the body.

Driver: Ooh, you ain't lying. Niiice.

After oggling over the pixelated honey, the bus driver finally continued our commute. A girl with a meh personality caused all this hub bub? Hmm, the last time I snapped a girl's pic on my phone, she was fierce. And from the looks of it, she has personality to spare. Check it:

Oh, and my girl's got some friends.

I paid such close attention to boys' locker room exchange because I needed a quick break from Infinite Jest. Unfortunately for me, Wallace's work is more than a wee bit confusing. But I suppose the uncertainty of it all is part of the novel's appeal. Lots of characters. Lots of intricate plots. Some have intersected. And loads and loads of wonderfully charming turns of phrase. Such as:

"All the plants out here are malevolent, heavy and sharp. The parts of the palms above the fronds are tufted in sick stuff like coconut-hair. Roaches and other things live in the trees. Rats, maybe. Loathsome high-altitude critters of all kinds. All the plants either spiny or meaty. Cacti in loathsome shapes. The tops of the palms like Rod Stewart's hair, from days gone by."

Rich, no? A busing friend noticed me reading yesterday and gushed that Infinite Jest is one of his favorite books. Ever. He predicted that it'd be a hard read and at times, I'd hate the beast. But in the end I'd be all the better for reading. He suggested I take a break in the middle of Infinite Jest with another book. What have I got myself into?

Infinitely More

2009-08-03T22:01:00.000-07:00

A very exciting Sunday! Met with brilliant Joanna's book club to discuss Life of Pi. It's wonderful to chat about a book with others when it's still so fresh in everyone's minds. Each book clubber brought a new perspective; one gal with a background in psychology had some insight to share about alter egos and trauma. Super fascinating stuff. Predictably we spent most of the meeting dissecting the ending. And enjoying the delicious lunch Joanna made. Yum!

After book club, Joanna and I met our pal Nathan at our favorite Orange County institution: The OC Fair. While we waited in line to purchase tickets, I was feeling oddly woozy. As my stomach flipped about, I was getting kind of angry. See, I'm almost never sick. So the one time this year I'm feeling under the weather, I'm at the fair? Not cool. The blasted belly ache was going to get in the way of my fair chow down. Happily, once I had some dippin' dots, I felt loads better. About an hour later, we indulged in this mess.

Clockwise from the top: buffalo fries, deep fried Oreos and deep fried s'mores. Just a sampling, mind you. Yep, we roll Templeton style.

During this morning's ride in to the office, I started my most intimidating booking adventure yet. I'm joining the legions of readers celebrating the season by participating in Infinite Summer. Sigh. While I sometimes put my subtitle to shame by taking a bit longer than a week to finish up a book, I'm certain Infinite Jest is going to take waaaay more than one measly week.

I know, I know, David Foster Wallace was amazingly bright, witty, talented and the rest. But these first few pages have been a bit of a challenge. For starters, I'm only on page 30. Yikes. But, I've found more than a few passage that strike my fancy. In this gem, Hal's putting some snooty school administrators in their place. Doesn't it totally remind you of pretentious English majors in college? I don't think I fall into this category. I was a relatively tame English major. At least, I hope I was...

"'I read,' I say. 'I study and read. I bet I've read everything you've read. Don't think I haven't. I consume libraries. I wear out spines and ROM-drives. I do things like get in a taxi and say, "The library, and step on it." My instincts concerning syntax and mechanics are better than your own, I can tell, with due respect.'"

And don't get that boy started on the OED.

If you're Infinite Summering, you may want to visit my fave bookstore Tuesday night for an Infinite Jest Cheerleading party. Festivities start at 8pm. Unfortunately, I won't be able to make it. I've got a hot date: the BF and I are grocery shopping for the week. Aw, yeah. Try not to be too jealous of our grain and cheese selections.

Fish out of Water

2009-07-30T19:27:00.000-07:00

Finished Life of Pi on today's trip in to the office. Bawled my eyes out for most of the commute. After I closed the book and tried to regain some semblance of dignity, our bus slowed to pick up some folks at a rather crowded stop. I noticed a few regulars, but one rider in particular stood out. He was a tall, beefy gent sporting a Pro Results black polo. Though there were plenty of empty seats available, Beefy Gent stood. As close to the front door--not to mention bus driver--as he could get. Interesting. He held his shoulders high, chest out, constantly surveying his surroundings. Dude was nervous. First time buser? Perhaps. But when you look just like this guy:

I don't think you need to fret. Did find it pretty amusing that I was merrily relaxing in my seat while Beefy Gent looked as though he might faint.

Life of Pi is, among many other things, f-ing hilarious. I don't think I've really touched on this. Often, I struggled to keep my chortling to myself on the bus--fellow riders don't care for unnecessary noises. A sampling of the chuckles:

"I was a very good student, if I may say so myself. I was tops at St. Michael's College four years in a row. I got every possible student award from the Department of Zoology. If I got none from the Department of Religious Studies, it is simply because there are no student awards in this department (the rewards of religious study are not in mortal hands, we all know that)."

Upon noticing his future friend Richard Parker has survived the shipwreck, religion connoisseur Pi, is ecstatic.

"Jesus, Mary, Muhammad and Vishnu, how good to see you Richard Parker!"

And then there are Pi's half hatched schemes for ridding himself of Richard Parker.

"Plan Number One: Push Him off the Lifeboat...Plan Number Two: Kill Him with the Six Morphine Syringes...Plan Number Three: Attack Him with All Available Weaponry. Ludicrous. I wasn't Tarzan. I was a puny, feeble, vegetarian life form....Plan Number Four: Choke Him...Plan Number Five: Poison Him, Set Him on Fire, Electrocute Him. How? With what? Plan Number Six: Wage a War of Attrition."

In addition to the laughs, Martel's prose is utterly engaging. Especially for me. When Pi describes his family's zoo, I felt a pang in my heart I've not experienced in about 20 years.

"I won't say that our zoo compared to the zoos of San Diego or Toronto or Berlin or Singapore, but you can't keep a zookeeper down."

When I was in first grade, our class took a field trip to the San Diego Zoo. Sure, it was fun. However, this was my regular zoo. I, like my classmates, had visited it dozens of times before the field trip. We thought all zoos were just like San Diego's. So then, imagine my horrified shock and disappointment when not even a year later I moved to Orange County. On a field trip with my summer day camp, we visited the Santa Ana Zoo. The other campers were excited and I guess I was too. I mean, I hadn't seen the pandas in awhile. We rolled up to Santa Ana Zoo and the other kids squealed at the play ground while I (brattily, yes) pouted and complained and cried about the lack of flamingos at the entrance. Happily, I grew to adore the charm of Santa Ana Zoo. In fact, the BF and I had one of our first dates there.

There's so much more to be said about Life of Pi. But, I'll end with this brilliant bit.

"My greatest wish--other than salvation--was to have a book. A long book with a never-ending story. One I could read again and again, with new eyes and a fresh understanding each time. Alas, there was no scripture on the lifeboat."

Oh, Pi, I think I love you. May I introduce you to my good friend Falcor?

Brock Lesnar image from LAT.

Disconnect the Dots

2009-07-28T21:37:00.000-07:00

Some of my most harried morning moments involve misplacing my bus pass. Is it in my purse? The pocket of yesterday's jeans? A side pouch of my gym bag? This morning, after about 20 minutes of searching, I located the wrinkled pass between receipts and business cards in my wallet. I place full blame on this afternoon's incident on above mentioned search.

So there I was, innocently sitting at my desk around 3pm. I suppose it helps to mention I kick it in the corner cubicle. A very high traffic area. Rolled my chair across my cube to retrieve a stapler when a flash of color on the ground caught my eye. Hot pink. With electric blue polka dots. Holy sh#t. It was a thong. Yes, a thong th thong thong thong. Happily/horrifically, I realized it was my thong th thong thong thong. Faster than I'd moved in weeks, I scooped up the alien article and stuffed it into the deep recesses of my gym bag.

Here's my best theory. In the morning tizzy of ransacking and searching, I emptied the contents of my gym bag hoping to locate my bus pass. A few work out clothes landed on a pile of clean laundry. As that bit of looting was not at all fruitful, I placed my work out clothes back in the gym bag. But there was a stowaway! The hot pink number, yearning for adventure, clung to my running pants. And then! Sometime this afternoon, it jumped shipped hoping to find excitement on the floor of my cube. Yes, yes, a bit far fetched but it's the best I got.

In other far fetched castaway news, Pi Patel decides to tame Richard Parker: the 450 pound tiger stuck on board his life raft. A tiger. One of these:

"What was missing here to tame Richard Parker? Time? It might be weeks before a ship sighted me. I had all the time in the world. Resolve? There's nothing like extreme need to give you resolve. Knowledge? Was I not a zookeeper's son? Reward? Was there any greater reward than life? Any punishment worse than death? I looked at Richard Parker. My panic was gone. My fear was dominant. Survival was at hand."

The level-headed clarity of Pi's thoughts grounds the crazy situation. Life of Pi seems a bit unbelievable. But Martel's ultra truthful, common sense reactions make the situations seem pretty darn plausible.

Tiger image from Wikipedia.

On Board Honesty

2009-07-27T21:21:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend, I saw these babies at my regular stop.

Someone has to be missing them, no?

Thankfully, no signs of kink today. This morning, I noticed a very stylish, 20 something gal riding the local bus. I haven't seen her before and a few things flagged her as not the most seasoned rider. She appeared nervous: looking around the whole time, sitting at the very front of the bus, pulling the stop request cord too soon. A rookie. In her, I recognized many newbie bus quirks from my early bus days. I was very tempted to start up a conversation with her--especially when we found ourselves on the same bus home. But, what would I have said? "Hey, I see you don't know sh&t about busing. Let me share some tips." Hmm. I think I know how well that would have gone.

Life of Pi. Ah, where to start. Or go. Poor young Pi's chilling in a lifeboat with some odd shipmates: a zebra, a hyena and a tiger. Martel conveys Pi's complex feelings--fear, hopelessness, guilt--wonderfully. After something of a mutiny on board, Pi draws a line in the figurative sand.

"I felt an intense hatred for the hyena. I thought of doing something to kill it. But I did nothing. And my outrage was short-lived. I must be honest about that. I didn't have pity to spare for the zebra. When your own life is threatened, your sense of empathy is blunted by a terrible, selfish hunger for survival...I felt pity and then I moved on. This is not something I am proud of. I am sorry I was so callous about the matter."

Isn't the honesty amazingly refreshing? Too often, I feel that authors create characters who are not at all this self reflective. A character revisits some childhood memory and the feelings seem so stuck in the moment. Something like: When my teacher called on me, I was so nervous. I didn't know the answer. Would the other kids laugh at me? If I could only tell my 10 year old self the answer was Lake Huron. Sound familiar? And for what? Such uncomplicated fluff hardly brings anything of depth to a story. And don't the best and honest stories among friends involve sentences like "I really shouldn't have insert awful/wretched/embarrassing behavior and I'm sorry. But I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Inspiration on the Go

2009-07-26T13:16:00.001-07:00

Though my latest issue of Vogue arrived over a week ago, only Friday did I start flipping through it. Randomly, the first page I opened to was the Editor's Letter. I was greeted by this image.

Christy Turlington. On a bus. I think this was meant to be. I've never been one to follow models--or even really care too much about them. But Turlington is something else completely. I've always admired her--in fact, at 17 when I decided to finally do something about my unruly unibrow, I took a picture of Turlington into the salon to show my waxer exactly the look I wanted. Yes, she's stunning, but she's also wonderfully intelligent, pulled-together, kind and on and on. Her Vogue profile is a definite must read.

Christy Turlington image from Vogue.

Love Letters

2009-07-23T21:08:00.000-07:00

My Dearest Darling Metro,
You know I love you. I'm constantly bragging about you to my pals. I look the other way when you're late. I don't complain when you show up smelling like the gym. But your current behavior is simply unacceptable. Not once, not twice but three times this week you've stood me up. The first two infractions I overlooked. But today's? Well, it's just making me reconsider your level of commitment to this relationship.

This morning, there I was, waiting for you to pick me up. You've finally gone google, and that's just great. So, according to my iphone maps app, you'd arrive at my stop in two minutes. Sweet. However, five minutes passed (still no sign of you) and maps app informed me that you'd departed three minutes prior. Funny, because you're kinda hard to miss. But, you'd be making another appearance in another 10 minutes. Fine, fine. He's not Mr. Punctual, I thought, but he's still my guy. Then! Then, thankfully, I saw you approaching my stop. My heart fluttered. I stood up, expecting you to pull over. You slowed your roll. And then as I walked to the curb, you peeled out! What.the.f?!

Luckily, I was able to rely on my man on the side, the BF. He was happy to drive me to work this morning. See, if I'd waited for you to roll around again--not to mention run the risk (and embarrassment!) of getting stood up again--I would have most definitely been late to work. Thankfully, the BF had me there with a few minutes to spare.

I'm expecting a full apology, darling. And perhaps some chocolates. Or cupcakes. Or both. Until then, you should know that, in addition to the BF, you've got some other competition.

Yup, I scoped this guy out the other day while you weren't paying attention to me. Metro, you've got to treat your girl right, or her eyes might wander. I'm just saying. But anywho, this guy looks like he knows how to treat a lady. Or two. Which is more than I can say for you right now, buddy.

xoxo,
Rosemary

PS Currently reading Yann Martel's Life of Pi. Some time ago, I realized many of the book title's I've read start with "The." Silly, yes, but in an effort to mix it up, I made a conscious effort to go for books whose titles don't rely on such articles. When brilliant Joanna mentioned that her next book club selection was Life of Pi, I jumped on it. Plus, it's been on my reading list forever.

Just about 70 pages in. A few different narratives are going on. Principal among them, Martel's main character Pi Patel shares the details of his unique background. He grew up in a zoo. Seriously. His father was the zookeeper.

"I would like to say in my own defence that though I may have anthropomorphized the animals till they spoke fluent English, the pheasants complaining in uppity British accents of their tea being too cold and the baboons planning their bank robbery getaway in the flat, menacing tones of American gangsters, the fancy was always conscious."

Also, I'm madly in love with Life of Pi's cover. Yes, yes, don't judge a book by its cover. But come on. How beautiful is this?

Cover image from Amazon.

Picture This

2009-07-21T20:36:00.000-07:00

Such an odd day. First, I saw this minor fender bender.

Rather than turning off to a side street to exchange insurance information/wave arms madly about, these two brilliant gents decided to stop their vehicles in the middle of the road to carry about their business. With absolutely no regard for pedestrians, they blocked a crosswalk. And of course, their collision engendered this bit of gridlocked loveliness.

Then, while riding the rapid into the office, I had a Chicken Little moment. After ricocheting off my neighbor's head, an object from above hit my shoulder and finally landed on the floor.

Looking up revealed the projectile's source. In its former life, it functioned as a casing for bus advertisements. Though, if this was the propaganda you were holding up, a suicidal leap might be the only way to preserve integrity. I'm not even sure what's being advertised here. Phone cards? Reality show?

On the way home, my bus window looked a bit off. For serious. Well, at least these bad boys are double paned.

I was more than a bit freaked out. As evidenced by my wonky iphone photog skills. Clearly, I need a steadier hand. But, such conditions would make most woozy, right?

Thank goodness it's July. Despite the heat, July is hands down, my favorite month of the year. See, the BF works in education so he has the ENTIRE month off. And for reasons I refuse to question, not working inspires him to flex his culinary muscles. So practically every day in July, I come home to goodies like today's.

Yeah, we're what you might call meat and potato peeps. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Tomorrow I start my new book. I'm excited for this one!

Los Feliz Saturdays vol. 8

2009-07-19T07:13:00.000-07:00

The most boring/productive part of my weekend usually occurs super early Saturday morning when I get a jump on household chores. But yesterday's adventures in domesticity were anything but dull.

As the past few days have been unbearably hot, we've been forced to use our air-conditioner at night. It's one of those lovely jobs that hangs out of the window. But honestly, sleeping in a sweltering hot-hot mess of a bedroom is simply unacceptable.

So then, I woke up around 7am and started puttering around the kitchen. Putting away dishes, wiping down counters, cleaning the litter box and on and on. But here's where the fun starts.

I pulled a full bag out of the trash can, tied it in a knot, headed out of our kitchen and shut the door behind me. Made my way down to the dumpster and held my breath as I tossed the bag in. Hummed to myself as I walked back up to the kitchen door only to find it had locked behind me. And me without a key. Of course. And the BF sound asleep in the bedroom with the loud air-conditioner blasting away. Of course.

I knocked loudly on the door. And then tried shouting. Then I resorted to pounding on the door. And shouting even louder. Convinced the neighbors were suspicious we'd had some dispute and the BF had rightfully/cruelly locked me out I skulked around to the front of the the building until I reached our apartment's front door hoping (but knowing otherwise!) it would be unlocked. No such luck, of course. So I yelled and banged on the door and still nothing. Ugh. I looked around in frustration and suddenly I had a thought.

Throwing caution (and fears of misunderstood criminal charges) to the wind, I decided to break and enter into my own apartment. I pulled off a window screen and wiggled the antique wooden and glass window just so. I peeked through my creation and saw a confused Gabby the Tabby. After cooing at her a bit, I hoisted myself up and then I saw the BF round the hallway. Half asleep. My torso had cleared the ledge.

BF: (stretching, then) Ah! What the hell?!

Me: (balancing on the window ledge) What the hell?! I was locked out that's what the hell!!

BF: (yawning) But...why didn't you wake me?

Me: (pulling myself through the window and standing up) Uh, don't think I didn't try.

Here's my fancy work. I made the BF place the screen back on.

Minutes later and I'm sure to the confusion of our neighbors, the BF and I laughed loudly about the whole debacle.

In the evening, we met some friends for dinner in Chinatown.

See, we wanted to try dim sum and we were really excited. I mean, it's like a buffet except you stay at your table. How cool, right? However, much to our dismay, we discovered dim sum is not available for dinner. Boo. We settled on Empress Pavilion. Oh.My.Goodness. Crazy delicious and amazingly affordable. We ordered all of this:

Plus drinks and once the bill arrived....$23 a person. That's including tip! Everything was mouth watering. Especially the duck which they served with "Chinese pancakes." Though to me, they looked and tasted just like tortillas.

After dinner we walked around Chinatown and saw lots and lots of toy stores. Lots of them. Like this one.

Um, not to be all blatantly obvious or anything buuuut, I do have a birthday coming up next month. And I've got this empty space in my living room that I simply do not know what to do with. A life-size pink robot packing some serious heat might just fill that spot up perfectly. Or not.

There's also this toy store.

And this one. Truer words were never expressed through the cash-eyed sad face medium.

End of the Line

2009-07-16T21:04:00.000-07:00

A rather quiet and uneventful day of busing. Just the way I like it. However, as my friend R and I planned on heading to Joan's on Third for lunch, I needed to look somewhat presentable. Not to mention bus/work appropriate. I settled on a short dress, leggings (lest I shame myself by flashing bus passengers or co-workers), sandals and what my older brother not so affectionately calls "a weight-lifter belt."

You're wondering about the awkward arm dancing, yes? The ever fabulous Gabby the Tabby decided she needed to act as fashionable accessory for my outfit. Which meant holding her. But, homegirl's got some heft. So, I tried to keep her entertained from afar (thus, rendering her uninterested in being arm candy) by waving my arms about. Worked like a charm.

Joan's was super tasty. I ordered my usual trio salad. I'm still salivating over that flank steak...

As we munched away, R's eyes focused on a blonde woman perusing the daily specials.

R: I think that's Jewel.

I glanced over on the sly and yep. It was Jewel. Or at least her long lost twin. She wore leggings (very similar to mine!), a billowy, gauzy white top and a black bra. And aviator sunglasses. Of course.

After finishing lunch, R and I cruised over to the bakery area where I could not resist ordering two double chocolate cupcakes. One is for the BF. The other? It didn't make it home from the office.

While I waited for my goodies to be packaged, I noticed a bright flash of red. Really bright. I peeked over at the front doors, and who should I see? Everyone's favorite red-headed lush from The Office: Meredith. She looked lovely in a black strapless dress. Much, much better than her standard turtleneck/flask combos.

Whoa. Finished Song of Solomon earlier today. Whenever I read a really great book, I'm always so surprised at how emotionally involved I become. The people I'm reading about are fictional characters. Yet, with such intense histories and dramas and worlds, I can't help but get completely sucked in. I get to know these characters, these people. I grow to love, to hate and even to pity them. But most importantly, I care about them almost as much as if they were actual people. And it's so temporary. Getting to know characters in a fictional work takes a few days, tops. Then, reading the whole book, perhaps a week or so? Then. Then it's over. Very strange.

"Milkman turned in his seat and tried to stretch his legs. It was morning. He'd changed buses three times and was now speeding home on the last leg of his trip. He looked out the window. Far away from Virginia, fall had already come. Ohio, Indiana, Michigan were dressed up like the Indian warriors from whom their names came. Blood red and yellow, ocher and ice blue."

More Reasons to Bus it

2009-07-15T21:27:00.000-07:00

Literary recommendations-

During my afternoon commute, I sat next to a young woman with awesomely cool curly hair. Think Little Orphan Annie but hip. Miss Annie and I sat in silence. She fiddled with her iphone while I was completely engrossed in Song of Solomon. My stop approached and as I had my coveted window space...

Me: Oh, excuse me. This is my stop.

Annie: (hops up) Uh, sure.

I stood in the aisle waiting for the bus to come to a halt. Annie looked at me, briefly made eye contact and then looked away. Uh-oh. Did the bus seat leave a stain on me or something awful?

Annie: Um, I know it's really none of my business.

Oh crap. This wasn't looking promising.

Me: Yes?

Annie: But I couldn't help but notice your book.

Me: Oh.

Annie: I love Toni Morrison. She's such an incredible writer.

Me: (sigh of relief) Totally. She's great!

Annie: Have you read Sula?

Me: No, not yet.

Annie: (hand to her heart) It is fantastic. My favorite Morrison work ever. She has this thing with bathrooms--especially in Sula. Every character has a, a rather, um, unique experience in the bathroom.

Me: Oh. Well, thanks for the recommendation!

Annie: Sure! Have a great day!

Sports Insight-

A very loud dude in his early 20s stood next to our driver talking baseball, hockey, basketball and just about every other sport. Except UFC. He wore the jersey below, which I first thought was a Dodgers jersey. Silly me.

Loud Dude: Candace Parker. Candace Parker, man. She's a great player. Better than her brother, even.

Bus Driver: Really? How you figure?

Loud Dude: First of all talent. Her first year in the WNBA, she got rookie of the year and MVP for the league.

Bus Driver: So?

Loud Dude: So? So?! What'd her brother get his first year? Nuthin'. Not rookie of the year. And no way MVP.

Sigh. Song of Solomon. Earlier today, I came across a review that described the novel as a coming of age story. Now, I love coming of age stories. Though really, who doesn't? Oddly, though, it wasn't until I read the review that I thought of novel in this light. I guess there were so many other heavy issues going on that I failed to notice the most universal theme of all? During an impromptu hunt in the south, Milkman has a bit of an epiphany.

"What business of it theirs what he did with his money? He didn't deserve...It sounded old. Deserve. Old and tired and beaten to death. Deserve. Now it seemed to him that he was always saying or thinking that he didn't deserve some bad luck, or some bad treatment from others."

Classic coming of age stuff, right?

Lastly, an update on our wonderful cat Gabby. We love her more each day. Over the weekend, fashionable Ro and I spotted some cute cat goodies at Ikea and we got to talking about how Gabby sorta kinda looks like a cute version of Fat Cat of Rescue Rangers fame. Thoughts?

Jersey image from Shop MLB.
Fat Cat image from Ultimate Disney.

Smiles for Miles

2009-07-14T21:29:00.000-07:00

All too often bus drivers often get a bad rap. They're described snappy, rude, unsafe and even crooked. And, yes, there are a few rotten apples in the bunch. But every once in a while, I encounter a driver so wonderful, I can't help but sing his or her praises all day long.

This morning, still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I boarded the rapid and a booming voice greeted me. Startled, I looked up and saw such a happy face, I was reminded of this dude.

The voice was so rich, so jolly, I couldn't help but, well, smile. And though the voice's owner, the bus driver, looked nothing like our muppet friend, I think the moniker is rather fitting. So then.

Guy Smiley: Good morning!

Me: Um, morning?

Guy Smiley: Good morning!

Rider boarding bus after me: Hey.

Guy greeted every single person who boarded our bus. His unexpected cheerfulness garnered a few snickers early in the commute. But as we rode along, the mood on the bus grew positively upbeat. In fact, once I got off the bus, I was nothing by smiles.

Highlight of the ride? He also served as an unofficial tour guide. We approached The Grove and...

Guy Smiley: Coming up on the left, ladies and gents is what some call The Grove, some call Farmer's Market. But me? I just call it Fairfax and Third. Lots of fun there!

Guy Smiley image from Muppet Wiki.

What's Your Line?

2009-07-13T19:33:00.001-07:00

Horror of horrors. I left Song of Solomon at home this morning. Luckily, a friend whom I occasionally catch the rapid with took pity and let me borrow his current issue of Vanity Fair. The commute was a pretty quick one so I only had time to read two articles: a piece on Sarah Palin and a mildly frightening story about Politico.

I've been meaning to write about a rarely discussed bus practice for sometime. And my book free commute totally got my wheels turning on the subject. Lines. Yes, lines. Waiting in line for the bus is quite possibly the most stressful part of my day. Because clearly, my fellow passengers and I use completely different playbooks for the sport. Oh believe me, navigating the dynamics of a bus line is a sport. Full contact even. Perhaps I should provide a primer. As I've mentioned, I grew up in Orange County. In Anaheim. Which means, I cut my queueing up teeth here:

Yup, that's me, a few pals and Mickey in Toontown circa 1998. If you're a kid living in OC, Anaheim especially, you're at Disneyland all.the.freaking.time. The pricey cost of admission you say? Fiddle sticks! When you grow up that close to the Happiest Place on Earth, you're bound to know a Disney employee happy to sign you in. There are countless ticket giveaways from school clubs. Really, the list of freebies goes on and on.

Keep in mind the peak of my Disney days was in the mid/late 90s. Before this whole fastpass craze. So we waited in line the old fashion way. No cuts. No shoving. Perhaps some raunchy conversation too adult for our pre-teen selves. But very polite otherwise. If an older person or small child needed to pass through to join their party, no problem. Because, honestly, Space Mountain isn't going anywhere. Though this pic (not from 2009, btw) seems to suggest otherwise.

Perhaps it's the fixed location that's key. At Disneyland, visitors are pretty much guaranteed a turn. And should the ride break down? Usually, a ride operator will provide a pass that allows you to jump to the front of any other line in the park. Not at all the case while busing it. If you miss the bus because you were too passive while boarding? Too bad, so sad. Have fun waiting for the next bus.

While buses have official stops (Fairfax/Melrose, Wilshire/La Cienega, etc) where the bus driver actually pumps the breaks and pulls over is an entirely different story. Where to queue up? The driver could stop right at the bus bench. Before it. After it even. It's kinda a crap shoot. And who boards the bus first? On super busy days, it can be madness. The bus will pull up about 20 feet from where a mini line has formed. Those in line race to reach the bus. Is there even a point in lining up? Sneaky petes who hung back away from the line cruise over to hop on right away.

And once you get on the bus, more line fun. Those with paper passes (ahem, me!) don't need to wait behind peeps dropping coins into the meter. Nope, you can flash your pass at the driver and get busy scoping out the best/available seats.

Even still, people get pushy. I've been elbowed and shoved by riders trying to secure a spot. Very tricky business. Hopefully I've grown more line aggressive in my months of busing. I'll often lean in a way that prevents would be cutters from taking advantage. Swinging a gym bag just so can thwart even the trickiest of line jumpers.

But, there is one tactic that I will always fall for. Hustling Grannies. You may think I'm joking. Picture this. You're patiently waiting in line. A small, seemingly frail older woman hobbles toward you. She smiles at you and motions hopefully, so hopefully, to the space in front of you. She wants to cut. Well, for goodness sakes, why not give the dame a break? So you do. Then, once she's on the bus, she scrambles, sprints and hurdles over other passengers to score a primo seat. As you walk by her and grab hold of the arm bar--because at this point, it's standing room only, she smiles at you sweetly from her window seat. You've been played. By the best. And it will happen again and again.

But this sort of take down, I really don't mind. Older folks can take my seat (or line cut) any day of the week. What's the worst that will happen? I'll just grab the next bus.

Just for fun, check out one of my all time favorite Disney adventures. Here's the gang chowing down at Blue Bayou. Don't L and I look so chic in our paper pirate hats? If I had to guess, I'd say we were all about 19 or so in this one.

Los Feliz Saturdays vol. 7

2009-07-11T16:06:00.000-07:00

When describing my neighborhood, I often say I feel like I'm cheating. While officially in the city's limits, we're amazingly close to nature. From my apartment's windows, there are clear views of Griffith Park and the Observatory.

Everyday, I walk by trees other than palms. And quite often, I see real bona fide wildlife: mutantly large raccoons, frisky squirrels and packs of coyotes. Yup, that's right. Packs.

Today, the BF and I took a little stroll to "Silver Lake" for a bit of shopping. We stopped by Postal Works at the corner of Hyperion and Griffith Park. Now to me, this could qualify as Los Feliz, though the BF claims it's Silver Lake. Care to weigh in on the debate?

Postal Works is a charming little store that offers much more than postal services. We're headed to a friend's bday celebration later this evening and I thought I could find some adorable little goodies for her. See, she just started a fancy new job and I thought some hip office supplies would be perfect. Among the loot I scooped up was this hilarious set of file folders. Much more fun than your standard manila legal variety, no?
We noticed quite a crowd at Cafe Bravo, a restaurant in the same shopping center, and decided to give it a go. When our kabob plates arrived, we couldn't wait to dig in. I mean, come on, how tasty does this look?! The BF, not the hugest fan of hummus, loved Cafe Bravo's. In fact, he practically cleaned his entire plate. Not to mention some of mine!

The past few days of reading Song of Solomon have been incredibly productive. Isn't is such a strange feeling when this happens? You're really into the book so you're reading quickly. Yet at the same time, you catch yourself slowing up the pace so that you can milk the enjoyment. Maybe that's just me? I read this passage yesterday and was blown away. Especially since the Midwesterners (who hail from Michigan) were just in town.

"Truly landlocked people know they are...But the people living in the Great Lakes region are confused by their place on the country's edge--an edge that is border but not coast. They seem to be able to live a long time believing, as coastal people do, that they are at the frontier where final exit and total escape are the only journeys left. But those five Great Lakes which the St. Lawrence feeds with memories of the sea are themselves landlocked, in spite of the wandering river that connects them to the Atlantic. Once the people of the lake region discover this, the longing to leave becomes acute, and a break from the area, therefore, is necessarily dream-bitten, but necessary nonetheless."

My Grandfather grew up in Michigan as well. And were it not for this wanderlust phenomenon Morrison describes, I too might call soda "pop," among other things. When I was little, I asked Grandpa, as he drank tea out of his Semper Fidelis coffee mug, why he joined the Marines. His answer was brief: "To get out of Detroit."

I've never lived in a landlocked area. I was born in Hawaii, then lived in San Diego, Orange County and now Los Angeles. I've never felt the need to move from the areas I've grown familiar with over the years. Even now, in Los Feliz, where I'm not exactly coastal, I'm comfortable and don't plan on moving anytime soon. So then, is there any truth in Morrison's theory? Does coastline proximity contribute to the stay put/get out of dodge desire?

File folder image from Knock Knock Stuff.

Things We do for Love

2009-07-09T19:23:00.001-07:00

Yesterday on the local bus home, we pulled up to a stop in Los Feliz. A very haggard looking woman boarded the bus. She wore baggy mismatching, stained sweats. Her hair, the consistency and color of hay was pulled into a tight bun, almost flaunting her dark roots. She had a tattoo behind her right ear, either a peace sign or a heart. Her skin, a dark patina from time on the streets hung loosely to her skinny frame. Holding two fully stuffed trash bags, she made her way to the back of the bus. But not before swinging around and shouting.

Bag Lady: Babe! Don't forget my bike!

I looked up, briefly thinking she was talking to some imaginary friend. Sadly, that's usually the case. Not this time. A healthier looking dude with a mullet climbed onto the bus.

Mullet: Honey, it's all good. Your bike's cool. I put it on the rack.

Bag Lady: Someone could take it! Bring it on the bus!

He walked toward her and put his hand on her arm.

Mullet: No, Babe. Bikes go on the front in the rack. You know that. No one's gonna take it. Let's just get a seat.

He lifted the bags from her arms and carried them the remaining few steps to the last row of seats. I couldn't help but stare. She leaned her head on his shoulder and he kissed the top of her head.

At the end of the day, isn't that what we're all looking for? Someone who's not afraid of our baggage?

Love manifests itself wholly differently in Song of Solomon. The purest loves, the most unsullied in the novel are the least focused on. Morrison puts the nitty gritty uncomfortable, squirm in your seat love/lust/trust dynamics on the front lines. After Milkman kicks Hagar, his cousin/bed buddy, to the curb with a thanks for the spanks Christmas card, she stages a mini revolt. Of the "If I can't have him no one can!" variety. She stalks him around town. Carrying some serious weaponry. However....

"Luckily for Milkman, she had proved, so far, to be the world's most inept killer. Awed (even in the midst of her anger) by the very presence of her victim, she trembled violently and her knife thrusts and hammer swings and ice-pick jabs were clumsy."

Is it odd or even morbid to find the humor in this? She's hell bent on slicing Milkman's throat, she's given more than enough chances, but she just can't do it. I realize that yes, it's because she's so painfully in love with him that she simply won't finish him. But Morrison does lift the tension a bit. "World's most inept killer?!" C'mon, that's pretty funny. Perhaps Hagar can learn a few things from these guys:

Until then, Milkman wins! Flawless victory!

Local Motion

2009-07-07T21:46:00.000-07:00

While riding home this afternoon, my local bus lunged forward with such force, I briefly looked up from Song of Solomon to see what all the commotion was about. A knuckle head in an SUV cut off our bus. Because unexpectedly pulling in front of something so freaking gigantic completely makes sense. The metro driver pounded on the horn and used a few choice words loud enough that I was able to hear them from where I sat at the back. Before I settled back to Milkman's adventures and upsets in Song of Solomon, this caught my eye.

The lovely poster was above my window. Absolutely gorgeous, right? I'm kinda sorta shocked I'd never noticed these bad boys before. I mean, I've been busing it since October for goodness sakes--you'd think I'd notice something from the canon during my commutes. Anywho a quick bit of research revealed this from Poetry in Motion:

"The PSA inaugurated POETRY IN MOTION® in New York in 1992 and has since expanded the program to numerous cities from coast to coast. The program, which places poems in buses and subways, currently reaches over 10 million Americans on a daily basis."

I'm kicking myself for not noticing this deliciousness sooner. The poster is a wee bit small to make out the words so here's the good stuff. Romeo and Juliet 3.2 lines 20-28:

Come, night, come, Romeo, come, thou day in night,
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
Whiter than new snow upon a raven's back.
Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-browed night,
Give me my Romeo. And when I shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
O, I have bought the mansion of a love,
But not possessed it, and though I am sold,
Not yet enjoyed.

Yep, yep, I pulled out the good old Riverside beast to cross reference. Sigh. The bus continues to surprise me.

Uh, speaking of surprises. Holy moly. Song of Solomon is beyond heavy. Milkman, the dude we're rooting for, is so flipping realistic. Not a Milkman by trade so to speak, he's had it with his father Macon abusing his mother. During a semi-religious dinner conversation, Macon snaps and Milkman reacts.

"Milkman hadn't planned any of it, but he had to know that one day, after Macon hit her, he'd see his mother's hand cover her lips as she searched with her tongue for any broken teeth, and discovering none, tried to adjust the partial plate in her mouth without anyone noticing-and that on that day he would not be able to stand it. Before his father could draw his hand back, Milkman had yanked him by the back of his coat collar, up out of his chair, and knocked him into the radiator. The window shade flapped and rolled itself up."

I read the passage a few times. What's most interesting about this is that Morrison later explains Milkman's motivations. They're not exactly what I was expecting--does Milkman attack his father to defend his mother? Kinda. Or is he finally confronting his fears and insecurities about his own manhood? Maybe. Have his sexual experiences caused him to see women in a different light? Oddly enough, quite possibly.

P.S. If you dig Shakespeare, I highly recommend Fintan O'Toole's Shakespeare Is Hard, But So Is Life. An absolute laugh riot!

P.P.S. Apparently, select Poetry in Motion prints are available for purchase. I think I need a few of these--I may have to enlist an NYC friend to scope out the inventory first...

Romeo & Juliet image from Poetry in Motion.

Return Trip

2009-07-06T20:18:00.000-07:00

Today I rode the bus for the first time in what seemed like eons; in reality my absence from the metro has only been about a week and a half. Alas, I'm back!

During his stay in LA, my older bro offered to buy me an early bday present. Woo-hoo! This was the first item I grabbed off the racks at Anthropologie; clearly it was meant to be.

I planned to wear it my first day back (today!) at the office. But, here's the kicker. Wearing pretty clothes on the bus sometimes has its downfalls:

1. Unwanted attention. Though, some creeps* will spit sleazy comments even if you're rocking baggy windbreaker jogging pants.

2. Bus seats are like casino carpets. Their mysterious multicolor/wretchedly busy patterns disguise mementos left behind by less than tidy riders.

3. Turbulence. One of my transit foes. Often a bus will unexpectedly lurch forward or come to a halting stop. After a morning face plant a while back, I learned my lesson. And, no one wants to risk giving their fellow passengers a free peep show, right?

So then, the solution? Wear something to commute and then change once at the office.

A co-worker and I occasionally catch the same rapid to work. When he saw me this morning in my jeans and graphic tee, I think he was a bit surprised at my casualness. Later in the afternoon, when we passed in the hall, he did a double take.

Co-worker: Uh, were you wearing that this morning?

Me: No, I thought it might get dirty on the bus so I changed.

Co-worker: Aha. Smart move.

*So as I said, sometimes what you wear doesn't matter. You'll get attention regardless. This afternoon, I transferred to my local bus home. I took a window seat and pulled out the current book, Toni Morrison's Song of Solomon. A 40-ish man sporting one of those moisture-wicking running tops sat in the row in front of me. We briefly made eye contact. I thought he was going to ask me where the next stop was, or if this bus route went to the mall or something along those lines. But nope.

Moisture-Wick: Italian, no?

Me: (wary) Excuse me?

Moisure-Wick: You're Italian, yeah? You've got that Italian look to you.

Me: (deadpan beeyotch mode) No.

Moisture-Wick: (holds up hands) Okay, okay. No harm, no foul, right?

I summoned up my most heated glare.

Moisture-Wick: Alright, fine. I won't talk to you.

I continued to glare for a moment and then looked back down at my book.

Moisture-Wick: Well, can you just tell me where you're from?

Me: (practically growling) California.

He got up and found another seat. Now, I'm really not such an abrasive person. It's just that while busing, sometimes I've got to act tougher than I really am. If you give someone an inch, they chat and flirt and make you feel awkward for miles.

Song of Solomon--f-ing amazing. Let's be honest, though. Toni Morrison's got more than a few accolades under her literary belt so of course, any of her works will be stellar stuff. When I read Beloved ages ago, I was engrossed and frightened--I think I slept with the light on for a week.

Her prose is killer; I tried to think of an apt comparison and settled on this: reading this book is like a slice of deliciously rich cake. The intensity is almost too much. While downing a glass of milk will cut the overwhelming feeling, it will also end the sensation. What to do, what to do? Keep on reading (or enjoying cake!) of course.

"Her voice made Milkman think of pebbles. Little round pebbles that bumped up against each other. Maybe she was hoarse, or maybe it was the way she said her words, with both a drawl and a clip. The piny-winy smell was narcotic, and so was the sun streaming in, strong and unfettered because there were no curtains or shades at the windows that were all around the room, two in each of three walls, one on each side of the door, one of either side of the sink and the stove, and two on the farther wall. The fourth wall must back on the bedrooms, Milkman thought. The pebbly voice, and the narcotic wine smell weakened the boys, and the stayed in a pleasant stupor, listening to her go on and on..."

Wowzers, right?!

Los Feliz Saturdays vol. 6

2009-07-04T23:22:00.000-07:00

Not much time spent in LF today.

Baseball in the afternoon at Petco Park.

Then an evening of fireworks at the BF's parent's house. Hooray for sparklers and something called Hexagon Magic.

Happy Fourth!

How I Spent my Summer Vacay

2009-07-03T15:58:00.000-07:00

Fantastic time in Reno. A few highlights:

A cruise on Lake Tahoe aboard the M.S. Dixie II. The best part of the cruise: a older gent gave the Midwesterners some serious stink eye as they told a rather scandalous tale from their dorm days at Western Michigan University. Whoopsies. Go Broncos!

And here's me disapproving. Apparently, I'm what the kids call a "square."

Later we toured Vikingsholm Castle. Maybe I'm just sounding like a jaded OC kid, buut, it completely of reminded me of a Fantasyland crib at Disneyland.

I've never been much of a gambler. In fact, after losing $5 at this uber complicated Wolf Run machine, I threw in the towel.

We jumped at the chance to check out a Roller Derby game in Downtown. I really think I could get behind this sport, even if only for an excuse to dress scantily while knocking other peeps to the ground.

Plus, I can usually handle Bud Light (clearly the older bro disagrees), which seemed to be the drink of choice around the track.

Now then. The Poisonwood Bible. What a knock out. I've mentioned how much I dig the multiple narrators but what's truly epic is that Kingsolver chronicles the ups and downs of these gals for decades!

I thought the book would only provide narratives of the Price ladies during their tenure as missionaries but no. By following the women for such a long time, we see what a profound and lasting imprint Africa has left. In fact, imprint, impact, impression, none of these words seems remotely strong enough to describe the transformation each of Kingsolver's characters undergoes after their missionary days.

The daughters, while in Africa, longed for the everyday convenience of a grocery store. Now back in Georgia, a truly new Adah is embarrassed of the excess. "Why must some of us deliberate between brands of toothpaste, while others deliberate between damp dirt and bone dust to quiet the fire of an empty stomach lining? There is nothing about the United States I can really explain to this child of another world."

Adah, clearly my favorite of the Price hunnies, experienced the most surprising transformation of all the women. Miss Adah, Miss Crooked, Miss Silent, Miss Lame. Whoa. She's changed quite a bit.

Snobbish and shallow though she may be, Rachel does have some moments of sagacity, especially after describing their mini family reunion. "The trouble with my family is that since we hardly ever see each other, we have plenty of time to forget how much personality conflict we all have when it comes right down to it. Leah and Adah and I started bickering practically the minute we met up in Senegal. We could never even agree on where to go or stay or what to eat."

Thankfully, thankfully, thankfully, this family reunion of mine was nothing like the Price family's. Interestingly though, my mama and I showed up with the same hair style.

I return to busing on Monday. And I'm due to start a new book. Top contenders: Toni Morrison's Song of Solomon, David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest and Anna Quindlen's Blessings. Thoughts?

P.S. Happy fourth! :)

Wolf Run image from 24-hour slots.

Let it on out!

2009-07-02T18:47:00.000-07:00

Wow! Such a day.

I'm currently enjoying a lovely staycation and nursing a rather painful sunburn. Way to go, UV rays of Huntington Beach.

Hopefully I'll be able to share my closing thoughts about The Poisonwood Bible tomorrow--I've been acting as mini tour guide to the Midwesterners. Did you know Ray was filmed at The Dresden?

In the meantime, whoa! What a shout out! And here too!

Back on the Wagon

2009-06-29T17:24:00.001-07:00

Just got back from Reno and boy are my reading eyeballs tired. I finished up The Poisonwood Bible on this morning's flight. Amazing. And! Guess who flew on Thursday's connecting flight from Las Vegas to Reno? Penn and Teller.

But. An exciting announcement. On Thursday before the BF took me to the airport, I drove home from work! A co-worker who lives in my hood asked me to drive her car home; she also had a trip planned and as her hubby was scooping her up on the way to LAX, she didn't want to leave her car in our office's parking garage over the weekend. So, I got to roll in style in her very luxe station wagon--seriously, when I've got little bookers of my own, the station wagon just might have a place in the driveway. Driving was of course a blast. And I got home in 20 minutes, opposed to my usual hour and a half busing. However, the best part of driving was...listening to NPR. Heaven. Though most of the news involved Michael Jackson, it was still news.

I've got the KPCC app on my iphone* so I suppose I could listen to NPR while busing home. But, I'm not sure I'm willing to give up my free reading time just yet.

More on Poisonwood and Reno tomorrow!

Awesome plane image from Southwest.

*Actual screenshot from my phone; I still don't know how I took this. One day, I was trying to turn off my phone and--boom--it took this image. Weird, right?

Happy Birthday L!

2009-06-24T21:20:00.000-07:00

Happy birthday to my wonderful BFF L! When I decided to start busing, she was the only one to respond "Cool! You'll be such a city girl!" Love her to pieces.

Surfin' Safari

2009-06-23T18:38:00.000-07:00

For this first time, in a very long time, I had to bus it while standing. Thankfully, this was just for a short stretch on the way home. In the past when forced to ride vertical, I always found myself near the middle of the bus, smushed between riders, with little more than disgruntled faces to look at. But what can you do, right?

So then, my afternoon transfer rolled up and I hopped on. I flashed the driver my crumpled up pass and realized I could not move any farther into the bus. See, buses have this yellow line you're not supposed to cross while the bus is moving. I imagine the hallowed ground acts as a safety/annoyance buffer for drivers. Because after driving in circles around the city for more than 10 minutes, who wants to listen to small talk such as "Hey Boss, how you livin'?" Which is exactly what a 40-ish caucasian dude rocking a Hawaiian shirt asked our driver today.

Usually, drivers will shout at you to get back behind the yellow line if you're in violation. But, as our bus was painfully crowded already and I seriously could not move an inch back, he let me stand my ground. While I cruised along at the front of the bus, I looked out the huge windshields. Mostly because I couldn't look anywhere else. I was oddly reminded of the beach.

There I was, standing on two feet, trying to maintain balance on an unpredictable element below. Bus surfing, USA! We'd hit a bump and I'd have to shift my weight forward or to the side or the turbulence was so jarring, it'd send me back-stepping to avoid falling. I imagine my appearance or performance if you will was not nearly as graceful, though quite possibly more humorous, than real surfers.

Though I was quite the beach bum when I was a kid, I'll be the first to admit I know very little about the mechanics of surfing. I've been on a board, twice, maybe three times? So who knows if my comparisons are even accurate. And nowadays, what do my beach trips* consist of?

Yes, tomfoolery in the highest. In an abandoned hole in the sand at Huntington Beach. Left to right: Brilliant Joanna, Me and BFF L. While this pic was taken a bit ago, I think it's safe to say were we to find another such gem, we'd jump right in.

The Poisonwood Bible is pure bliss. Seriously, I've found no fault with the novel yet. With Kingsolver's ever changing narrators, I know everything that's going on. Who's secretly pissed at whom. Why is the youngest sister really sick? What exactly is the mute girl thinking? It is all fabulous.

Most of all, I think this narration style allows Kingsolver to go into amazing depth with her characters. She shows in painful detail how this hopeless situation effects the Price women uniquely. Sure, they're all bummed that they're stuck in an isolated village when they'd rather be sipping sweet tea in Georgia. But.

Their exile (indeed exile, imposed on them by the preacher father) forces each to realize their own vulnerabilities. Mother Orleanna--great name by the way--grows so desperate to get her family (minus that crab of a husband) back to Georgia that she unsuccessfully strikes up a deal to pay their passage home by pawning her wedding ring and promising to fish up another grand once in the states. And poor Rachel. Once conceited about her looks, the family soon discovers that the polygamous chieftain wants to add her to his collection. And it's kinda hard to turn the suitor down. And the hardships of the other Price girls...oh, worse and then some.

Yet, despite this somberness, Kingsolver remains witty and funny as hell. The hilarious Adah is super fed up that their salvation happy father leaves the family with no food, no money, no anything while he traipses about saving souls.

"The Reverend seemed unconcerned about this. He forged ahead with his mission work, leaving his three older girls in charge of hearth and home for days on end while he sallied out to visit the unsaved, or to meet with Anatole about imposing Bible classes upon boys of tender years. Oh, that Bible, where every ass with a jawbone gets his day!"

*Here's hoping I'll have some more traditional beach outings with the Midwesterners. Or at the very least, let's hope I get a little color on my ghostly legs.

HB image lifted from BFF L's Facebook page.

Cute as a Plug

2009-06-22T12:29:00.000-07:00

Got some free time today? Why not head on over to Green LA Girl to read my contribution to the Car Free Mondays series? Check it.

Thanks for reading and commenting! :)

Los Feliz Saturdays vol. 5

2009-06-20T16:53:00.000-07:00

Travel news! On Thursday, I'm flying into Reno to visit Mom and the Midwesterners who arrive there on Wednesday. The boys and I plan to live it up Biggest Little City style for a few days until we head back to LA. Then of course, more shenanigans on home turf.

Since I'm leaving pretty much midweek, I had to use today to get all of my ish in order. Laundry, packing, tidying up the apt. You know, ultra fun stuff. I was actually pretty bummed about losing my Saturday to errands because my brilliant friend Joanna invited me over for the inaugural meeting of her new book club. Guess what they're reading? The House of Mirth--the first book I blogged about! So regretfully, I had to pass it up. But I'm definitely in for the next meeting. Perhaps they'll read one of my other books?

After spending my entire morning (and some of the afternoon) wrestling laundry, the BF and I decided to grab some lunch. Hands down, his favorite spot to chow down in the hood is Yuca's.

If he could go there everyday, I'm sure he would. Thankfully, I dig it too; the carne asada burrito is killer. One of the few downsides about Yuca's: the joint is CASH ONLY. Luckily, there is an Albertson's across the street to grab some dough when you're low. As we walked through the Albertson's parking lot, two 20-something hipsters (though I wonder...do hipsters of a different age group even exist?) strolled in front of us. Yes, strolled. One was smoking, of course. I coughed loudly and obnoxiously. Right before they entered the store, the smoker threw his Parliament on the ground. I scoffed and made some very snarky comments. The BF half smiled and raised his eyebrows at me.

Here's the thing. Sometimes, I get kinda mouthy. Especially if someone is as inconsiderate as these tools. The BF stresses out because if I offend someone--a guy--the wretch will likely take up his beef with BF. "You better learn that b$tch to talk," or some nonsense. And of course, my love, being the champ that he is will say something like "She can say whatever she wants," and then some silly fight will ensue. It's only come close to happening once. But that's another story.

So then. The BF wiggles his eyebrows at me and I couldn't help myself.

Me: (loudly) What?!

BF: You know what.

Me: Oh please. You know those hipster's can't fight.

BF: Huh?

Me: Really. Those guys were puny. You couldn't have taken on both of them?

BF: (chuckling) Well, I guess I so.

Me: Right. Heck, I could have taken on the smoker. They were just so rude.

BF: Hey, well then, what is a hipster line of defense?

Me: Not a clue.

BF: Maybe they'd want to beat us down intellectually?

Me: (giggling) That could be fun. Let's hope they try.

Thankfully, or unfortunately depending on your opinion of hipsters, they did not cross our paths again. We headed over to Yuca's where the BF ordered a double chili cheeseburger and I went with my usual burrito. We scarfed down the goods before I could snap a pic. But perhaps that is the best evidence of Yuca's deliciousness?

Later, while packing, I realized that I do not own a swimsuit. I know, I'm such a bad Californian. So the BF and I took the bus to the Americana in Glendale. I almost never bus it on the weekends. But, parking there can be a real drag; it sometimes takes longer to find a space than the 10 minutes spent driving there.

Since we only have his car, the BF is always the one to drive. Always. As we cruised along Los Feliz Blvd., he mused about the many things he's never really got a chance to look at: Quinceañera photo shoots near the Mulholland fountain, all the great little shops and bakeries in Atwater. Sadly, a bathing suit was not in the cards for me today so after about an hour or so of searching, we headed back to the bus stop. But not before swinging by this lovely spot. Sigh.

The ride home was super packed which was rather surprising as the bus we took to the Americana was practically empty. Our seats were near the front. Although I usually prefer cruising near the middle of the bus, I was content with today's arrangement because I got to hear a guy with a Hawaiian accent (swoon) spit game at the cute bus driver. Oddly, our Romeo looked very much like Anthony Bourdain:

Side note: how does Bourdain stay so freaking slim?! Have you seen him throw down?!

AB twin: How's it different driving one of those segmented buses compared to a ride like this?

Cute Driver: The accordions? Oh, they're so easy. I was scared at first but they're fun.

AB twin: Is that so? You must be a pretty good driver, then, huh?

Cute Driver: (giggling) Well, I guess you could say that. I just keep my eye on the back of the bus--the butt. See, it turns just like the front. So if the front's in good shape, the butt is too.

AB twin: (rakishly) I'll bet.

Cute Driver: It's just like driving a Cadillac.

I've taken accordion buses just a handful of times--they are pretty intimidating. They actually have seats in the bendy section. When the bus turns the corner, you can't see the front. Spooky.

Have a great weekend! And hooray for the official start of summer! And Happy Father's Day to Dad, Papa and BF's Dad! :)

Yuca's image from Yelp.
Anthony Bourdain image from Time.
Bus image from Wikimedia Commons.

The Good Books

2009-06-17T20:16:00.000-07:00

This morning's rapid was pretty crowded. I was lucky enough to score the last available seat. An aisle chair near the back of the bus. Next to me rode an attractive dude likely very close in age to me. He appeared relatively sane--and yes, crazies most certainly have a look. I figured it'd be a safe and uneventful ride. Which, happily it was. Unless you count his odd odor. He smelled exactly like gas station beef jerky. Which made me simultaneous hungry and nauseous.

He read a book for the duration of our shared commute. No eye contact. No small talk. My kind of rider. Except, his reading material was apparently wildly hilarious. He giggled softly, at what I'm assuming was every other word. The sounds he emitted were not unlike those provided by an asthmatic 5th grader during a particularly raucous game of nation ball. So yeah. He's got the looks, he's environmentally friendly by busing it, but he smells of peppery bovine and has a funky laugh.

I tried peeking over at his pages to see what book could elicit such hilarity and the only telling phrase I could catch was Michael Pemulis. Of course I googled as soon as possible and found out it was David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest. Thoughts? Should I add this to my booking it queue? Because, sometimes a busing girl really needs a laugh.

On the way home, I stopped by For Pets Only to pick up a toy for Gabby. Of the many, many toys we've purchased for her, she likes zero. A friend suggested one of those feathery jobs as most cats seems to love them. Here's the thing. I know cats like these. But I've avoided them thus far because, well, I think they look like...erotic toys. Am I right?! So I picked out the least questionable feathers and headed to the register.

Minutes later, I went to The Alcove to grab some dinner to go. As I walked in, the tell tale hot pink doodad shouted out my sordid ways to non-cat folks. Epitome of sexy, no?

The Poisionwood Bible just gets better and better. While reading, I usually dog-ear pages when I come across touching passages. More pages than not are folded over. Good stuff. Adah Price listens to her father's sermon on Babylon's lawlessness. Joakim's smoking hot wife Susanna's turns down the advances of some oafy horn dogs and Adah's commentary of the situation is perfect:

"Naturally the righteous Susanna refused them, even though this meant she would be accused and stoned for adultery. Stoning moaning owning deboning. We were not supposed to wonder what kind of husband was this Joakim, who would kill his own lovely wife rather than listen to her side of the story. No doubt the Babylonians were already out scouting around for their favorite rocks."

And then. It gets better. Adah rules. "Oh, hooray. Daniel to the rescue. Our Father loves Daniel, the original Private Eye."

And, thanks to yesterday's post at Green LA Girl, I learned that tomorrow is Metro's Official Dump the Pump day. Of course, I'll be participating but you know I prefer the rhyme order "PUMP AND DUMP."

P.S. Gabby loves her new toy. More embarrassing purchases in my future to be sure.

Catching Up

2009-06-15T19:03:00.000-07:00

After weeks of haranguing from my friend R, I finally picked up Barbara Kingsolver's The Poisonwood Bible. Boy, it is awesome. The novel follows a missionary family from the comforts of suburban Georgia as they spread the "good word" in the Congo. And! Kingsolver uses multiple narrators, which I love. The first time I encountered this fantastic narration style was years and years ago. With this book.
Don't act like you don't know. :) I'd been a fan of the BSC and when I discovered I could read the accounts of all BSC members during a fab beach adventure, ooh-wee, it was on. Way to go Ann M. Martin. For a hilarious recap of the above book (not to mention all things Claudia Kishi), click here.

So my weekend did involve events other than the charming Gabby. I mentioned the bachelorette party, yes? Nothing too rowdy except. One of the girls was nursing. She was kind of bummed that she couldn't join in the drinking festivities. When suddenly smarty pants L (who has tons of new mothers as friends) opened her mouth and.

L: Uh, hello, just PUMP AND DUMP!!

She explained the concept to us (pump out milk produced after consuming alcohol and toss it) and we were in stitches! Then she said that milk test strips are available to make sure that your kiddo doesn't get too tipsy.
Anywho, the nursing girl was thrilled with the idea and celebrated by downing a scooby snack. Our chant for the entire night was PUMP AND DUMP, PUMP AND DUMP!

BSC cover image from Amazon.
Test strips image from Target.

Keyboard Cat

2009-06-14T18:12:00.000-07:00

Finished The Piano Tuner the other day while busing. But I've been so occupied with our new cat I can't think of much else!

So then. The Piano Tuner was quite a different read from most of the books I've read since starting the blog. It's sort of...clinical, maybe? While author Daniel Mason goes wonderfully in depth with his descriptions of the the lush jungles, the accounts of character thoughts are quite the opposite. But perhaps Mason's approach is deliberate. Stripping down the internal comings and goings of tuner Edgar Drake forces the reader to develop their own conclusions. On the surface, it was easy to view Edgar and then Colonel Carroll as not terribly pensive. However, his actions: Edgar remaining in Mae Lwin instead of going home, putting the moves on Carroll's girl and trying to run from trained soldiers provide tremendous insight into the kind of person this "timid" piano tuner is. I must say, I was kind of cruising through it on auto pilot until the last few chapters. Whoa! What a change of pace. A nice surprise and definitely a thumbs up from me.

Now then. Our cat. We love her. For awhile now, I've been looking at different animal shelter sites to view their available cats. Our requirements were pretty minimal. We wanted a female short hair adult cat. And that's about it. On Thursday or so, I emailed this listing to the BF, with the subject line " CUTE!!!"

We were in OC Friday night; I was out until the wee hours for BFF L's little sister's bachelorette party. Whew. Let's just say I can't rally like I used to! Instead of heading back to the hood after the festivities, L and her wonderful husband M dropped me off at my Grandma's house to crash. The BF stayed at his parents house--just about 20 minutes from Grandma's. We met in the morning, grabbed a bite to eat at In-n-Out, stopped by PetCo for some basics and then headed to the shelter.

I was shocked that the cat I emailed the BF days earlier was still available. She's so adorable that I was certain someone who have scooped her up.

Me: She's it, she's the one. I don't have to look at any others.

BF: (laughing) Holy sh&t. She's huge.

And she is. She took up more than half of her kennel. All the other cats looked like kittens compared to her girth. She weighs 15.9 pounds. A bit of a heifer, I suppose.

The shelter employee in charge of the area informed us that visiting hours would start up again in an hour and we could play with her then to see if she was a good fit for us. She explained that we should go to the main office to request a visitors pass so that we could meet her as soon as possible. I spied a family cooing at her cage and had other plans. We walked up to a window in the main office and.

Me: I would like to adopt the cat in kennel C-31.

Office Guy: Oh, did you want to visit with her first? You guys can play with her and

Me: No, we're cool. We'd like to just take her home.

Office Guy: Alright. Great. I'll just need to see your ID. And it says here she doesn't do well with kids. Do you guys have

Me & BF: No.

After what seemed like hours of paperwork, in real time it was about 20 minutes, Office Guy handed us our official adoption folder. Since at 5 years old, she's considered an older cat, there was no adoption fee--we only had to pay for some recent vaccines and the transfer of her microchip. Sadly, she was a return to the shelter. A family had adopted her in May and then brought her back soon after claiming she was shy and didn't get along with their kids. I'm willing to bet this family had some monster brats who were mean to poor kitty.

Unfortunately, there was lots of traffic on the way home. So once we finally walked through the door, she was a bit frazzled. She hid under the bed for about an hour. Then, she just made herself at home. She doesn't like to play with toys too much--she can't stand the guitar! And she runs from toy balls. I have a feeling her former kid owners tormented her with these. She's most content cuddling between a warm body and the arm of the sofa. Which is perfect with us. We've made a little cat cave in the corner of our living room and she spends non-cuddling hours in this spot burrowing and making herself comfy. Such a doll.

Last night when we went to bed, we were still unsure what to name her. Some of the names topping our list were Flaca (ironically, of course), Clementine, Enchilada, Maria, Tamale, Gordita, and Burger (aka Burgie-Burg). We knew we had to come up with a name quick otherwise she'd think her name was Kitty or Baby, both of which she was already responding to.

All night long, our new cat meowed. She's got a great meow, if you ask me, but I'm sure I'm biased. Half asleep, I lifted her up on to the bed.

Me: Maybe we should call her Gabby?

BF: (yawning) Yeah, she's such a talker.

And so Gabby it is. We may have to get another litter box though, she barely fits inside.

Los Feliz Saturdays vol. 4

2009-06-13T20:09:00.001-07:00

Adventures and Announcements

2009-06-11T19:37:00.000-07:00

Whew! I literally walked through my door half an hour ago.

After work, I planned to ride the rapid bus all the way to Glendale. I wanted to visit the massive, three-story Target that I'm still unable to navigate, even after shopping there more than a handful of times. Why the extracurricular field trip? Well, I had hoped I could keep our big news underwraps for a little while longer. But really, it's just so exciting that I can't stay quiet. We're taking the plunge and...

Adopting a cat!* Though I didn't purchase any cat food, I perused the toy section for some fun goodies for the future member of Chez Booking it Bus Style. Now look here, Target, normally I have lots of love for you. But your selection of kitty toys is pathetic. Meanwhile, the dog toy aisle (yes, aisle compared to a measly 2 bays of cat toys) offers a diverse selection. Not fair.

So unfortunately, my nearly 3 hour round trip public transit commute was not terribly fruitful. The toy I did pick up produced quite a few stares on the ride home from Glendale. Stares that turned into angry, mean glares. Here's the toy.

Cute, right? Except every time you shake it, squeeze it, heck breathe around it, it lets out a loud guitar riff. Even buried in the deep, muffled recesses of my bag, it was still super loud. I could see how it got annoying.

More big news. At the end of this month, my older brother and his best friend are heading out to LA for a visit. I'm beyond thrilled. The last time these two Midwesterners were here, the BF, Fashionable Ro and many of my other pals went out just about every night. The BF and I joke that our livers still have not recovered. Since I'll be cruise director, I'm welcoming any suggestions for LA shenanigans to keep the boys entertained. So far, I'm thinking: Dodgers game, beach days, visiting some tasty restaurants for celeb watching (Father's Office, Joan's On Third, Little Dom's) and that's all I got. As you might be able to guess, I'm a bit of a homebody--recommendations are obviously needed. Thankfully, they'll be renting a car while in LA so I'll be able to enjoy a much needed break from busing. Just for fun, here are the guys during their last LA adventure. Bonus points if you can guess where the picture was taken.

*What? Not the big news you were hoping for? The big news BF's mom and I have been hoping for? Yeah, we're working on that one. But in the meantime, how thrilled are we?!

Kindness of Strangers

2009-06-08T19:16:00.000-07:00

While I waited for my transfer this afternoon, I spotted the best dressed bus rider I've ever encountered. Her short hair was flipped out in tight curl with a couple bright yellow barrettes beautifully sweeping back the sides. She wore gray leather driving gloves, gray peep-toe Mary-Jane pumps and she held a gray leather clutch. All three grays matched perfectly. And don't get me started on her belted plaid dress. Ooh-wee what a stunner. Not unlike this L.A.M.B number:

Remember that dress? I'm certain it's been unavailable for sometime. But, when I first saw it, I thought, well, heck, Gwen's got something going on after all! I really wish that I could have taken a pic of this awesomely dressed gal, but, le sigh. Iphone camera...and...busing it...and--oh, wait, that's right. I did manage to snap a pic on the DL. Check it:

Yup, Li'l Mama fashionista is, in all likelihood, more of a Li'l Grandmama fashionista. Don't you just love it? I wish I could be this fashionable now! As if things couldn't get any better, she was also incredibly kind. She smiled at just about every passenger that joined our little fashion wagon. Also, she made funny faces at the little kiddos cruising with us. Adorable.

At a stop near my house, a man using forearm crutches started to climb on our ride. She hopped, yes hopped, out of her seat. Thinking she had forgotten to exit sooner, I worried that she and the man would have some awkward tango of boarding/exiting the bus. But no. She stood up and made her way to the front door to help the gentleman on to the bus. They sat down next to each other where he thanked her profusely. She sort of blushed and waved her hand as if it were no biggie. Then! He proceeded to tell her how gorgeous she was (and, believe you me, she was!) and she--get this--batted her eyes and playfully touched his shoulder. Okay, ladies, is this not Flirting 101?! How much do I adore this woman? Luckily, I was able to capture their love connection.

Yes, look past the Cesar Milan lookalike in the yellow polo to see these two love birds straight up macking. I'm positive there was an exchange of digits. But actually, given the coolness factor of Li'l Grandmama, perhaps she instructed him to follow her on Twitter?

If only every bus ride were so romantic and inspiring!

L.A.M.B. image from Nordstrom. Alas, sold out!

Los Feliz Saturdays vol. 3

2009-06-06T21:27:00.000-07:00

A special treat today. The BF's parents drove up for a visit. It's going to sound cheesy, but I truly love love love his parents. When I first met them (over 5 years ago!) I just knew we'd hit it off. At the time, they reminded me so much of my own family--warm, generous, funny, open minded. And really, now they are family. I feel so fortunate; I've heard some rather frightening stories about overbearing in-laws (sidenote to BF: did you get that link I sent?) but I'm certain that we'll continue to be close pals well into the future.

The four of us walked to Mexico City for lunch. I notice that some reviews don't speak too highly of the joint. But I've been here numerous times for lunch and dinner and have always had a wonderful experience. In fact, our first time there, the BF and I sat two booths away from none other than Emilio Estevez. Fun times.

We arrived right at noon and were greeted by a CLOSED sign and a locked door. The BF suggested Little Dom's across the street where a hungry hipster mob was already crowded around the overwhelmed hostess. But magically, the imposing door of Mexico City opened and a cool young gent welcomed us in as the first customers of the day.

Like many Mexican restaurants, MC gives you chips and salsa to start. But, oh. They provide two salsas: a red and a green number with kick. The red is unbelievable; some of the best salsa I've tasted. Ooh-wee, is it tasty. Kinda smokey, just enough heat and fab consistency.

The BF ordered the shredded beef tacos, his parents each went with chicken tacos and I tried the chicken flautas in tomatillo sauce. Our server kindly asked if I was okay with having them topped with cotija cheese. Well, um, yes, the more the better.

Holy moly, right?! After our delicious lunch, we headed back to the apt. We watched the Dodger game for a bit. But mostly, we just laughed and joked--much of it was at the BF's expense. Lately, he's been getting more than a little pressure from his mom and me for a bit of bling (ahem) I've been expecting for quite some time.

Thanks to the BF's parents for a fantastic visit. They're seriously great peeps; can't you just tell how fun and cool they are by scoping them out in the oldie but goodie pic below? Here they are with a few other loved ones at my college graduation. Left to right: Cousin Z, BF's dad, BF, BF's mom, Aunt J, Aunt T and Fashionable Ro.

Happy Weekend!

Mexico City image from Yelp.

Let's Go Lakers

2009-06-05T18:35:00.000-07:00

When I left for work this morning, it was overcast and dry. While I waited for the bus, running back to the apt for an umbrella crossed my mind. But, nooo, I decided. Big mistake.

After transferring to the rapid, the clouds grew a bit more menacing. By the time I exited the bus, it was pouring. The block I walk from the bus stop to my office--which is usually quite a lovely stroll--was no fun at all.

Normally, I avoid the coffee shop on the ground floor of my office building. Mostly because it's horribly overpriced. However, after arriving soaked and somewhat frozen, I deserved a bit of a treat. This breakfast burrito and cappuccino, though yummy, set me back $9.50. Completely worth it, though.

Later, in the afternoon, I waited for my transfer home. A man wearing a Lakers Three-Peat shirt approached me. He flicked his cigarette and...

Three-Peat: Miss, you got a smoke I can bum?

Me: Huh? I don't smoke.

Three-Peat: Don't be stingy. Just gimme, like, seven.

The funny thing is, I wasn't scared a bit. It was about 1pm and there were loads of people around. And, most importantly, he was interrupting a gripping passage in The Piano Tuner.

Me: I told you, I don't have any. Go away.

Three-Peat: Yeah, yeah. C'mon girl, just like, one, maybe?

Me: (yelling, of course) F-OFF!

Three-Peat sighed and rolled his eyes. As he finally f'ed off, he looked to some of the witnesses of our exchange as though implying, "Man, some women, huh?" He didn't find much sympathy. Sucker.

So about that gripping passage. The higher ups of the British Military informed Edgar (our beloved piano tuner) that operation: tune the Erard of crazy a$$ Surgeon-Major Carroll, has been cancelled. Edgar writes a letter to his wife about how the ish has hit the fan and he'll return to London shortly. When suddenly, dreamy Burmese speaking Khin Myo hands him a letter from Dr. Crazy A$$ himself explaining that, duh, a fine tuned piano is essential to their colonial efforts.

"In the attack on our camp the strings belonging to the fourth-octave A key were snapped by a musket ball. As you know, it is impossible to play any meaningful piece without this note, a tragedy that those in the War Office cannot fathom. Please proceed to Mae Lwin immediately."

Well, for Pete's sake. Bullets are flying, violent bandits everywhere and skirmishes are throwing wrenches in their plans. But, hello! Some strings have been damaged, so get your non-military trained booty to the battlefield tout de suite to remedy the situation. Hmm...is it too much of a stretch to say that Dr. Carroll sorta reminds me of another ficitonal military officer gone off the deep end?

Finally, as the BF is chilling in the OC with some pals, I was on my own for dinner. I headed over to The Alcove, home of yummy food and wonderfully cool 20 somethings. I've been on a bit of an avocado kick lately so the pretzel roll BLT with avocado and pesto sounded delightful. Totally hit the spot.

Interestingly, this was just about as much as my meal this morning. Also! The Alcove's got Lakers cookies for all of your playoff needs. Sugar cookies in the shapes of Kobe jerseys, basketball/net combos and for some reason purple/gold dachshunds. Be sure to stock up. I'm certainly not the biggest basketball fan, but these commercials may have converted me.

Ricki the Raindrop image from The Discovery Science Center.

Quickies

2009-06-02T18:58:00.000-07:00

Standing at a busy intersection waiting to cross, I looked south to see if a bus approached. When suddenly.

Strange Voice: Mmm hmm.

I turned to my right. Turned to my left. Then noticed the voice belonged to a person circling me. In a wheelchair. Strange Voice was in his mid 20s and rocked a straw fedora.

Me: Excuse me?

Strange Voice (continuing his mobile surveillance): Yeah, I see those legs girl.

Me: What?!

Ugh, if I punch this guy, will I be attacked by passers by for picking on someone in a wheelchair?! Luckily, the light turned, he left and I crossed the street before we could find out.

I suppose the more important question is, where are dudes getting their pick up lines from these days?

Movie poster from imdb.

June Doom

2009-06-01T20:26:00.000-07:00

This morning, a friend sent me a story about an undercover transportation method of sorts. As a cost cutting measure, the Federal Bureau of Prisons (BOP) allows some unescorted prisoners to bus it between correctional institutions. Say what?! According to the BOP, most of these individuals are transferring to half way houses or minimum security facilities where they'll be in contact with the public anyway. Um...not really comforting, BOP. I think the most upsetting issue is that these prisoners travel incognito and unannounced. The BOP failed to give transportation authorities a heads up about this. Seems to me there is a reason they wanted to keep this all under wraps? And were the busin' it higher ups ticked off? You betcha.

Now, before I come off as a super conservative "lock 'em up and throw away the key" type, I must assure you that I'm not. Seriously. Ask around. I'm one of the most liberal people you'll meet. But my main concerns are:

1. These are incarcerated individuals whose sentences have not been fulfilled. To achieve freedom, you must repay your debt to society by completing a prescribed time. As they have not yet done so (because, hello, they're transferring, not catching the bus after release), they should not be allowed the freedom to ride a public bus unescorted. I'm certain prisoners not allowed such liberties are none too pleased about this.

2. The BOP kept this operation hidden from bus authorities. Uh-huh. If they really felt this was a safe system, why keep those in charge of buses in the dark?

Buses are pretty hectic as it. I've often wondered if having security personnel aboard each bus would help keep the peace. Not just with some of the crazier situations I've encountered but also to provide backup to the lone drivers. Almost everyday, I observe sneaky petes boarding the bus clandestine-like without paying the fare. More often than not, these peeps are teenagers. Figures. What's most telling about all of this, however, are the comments those reading the article leave. Most berate the publication and the bus authorities. A term that's been tossed around more than a few times is "fear mongerer." I'm curious to know the percentage of commenters who are (like me!) daily bus riders.

Am I being too harsh about all of this? Thoughts?On a much lighter note, I've moved on to a new book: The Piano Tuner by Daniel Mason. Unfortunately, I've not made the biggest dent yet; I'm only about 50 or so pages in. But, it's quite engaging so far. Exotic travel, passion for music, doing the Crown's bidding...what's not to love? Plus, the main character Edgar is a public transportation advocate. More out of necessity than want but still...

"He boards an omnibus, wedging himself between a portly gentleman in a thick coat and a young, ashen-faced woman who coughs incessantly. The bus lurches forward. He looks for the window but the bus is crowded, he cannot see the streets pass."

Man after my own heart, no?

Toy image from Cats Play.

Los Feliz Saturdays vol. 2

2009-05-30T21:50:00.001-07:00

The BF and one of his guitars on the roof of our building, photographed by Denise.

Earlier today, I tried to emulate this image. I had the lofty idea of contrasting the gorgeous weather pictured above with the humdrum gloominess of today. Failed for a few reasons: 1. I'm not the most gifted photog (evidenced by most of the pics on this blog!). 2. I shoot with an iphone. 3. No light combined with the previous factors = wretchedness.

Despite it all, I adore days like this. Is there anything better than curling up on a chilly day with a book and a bowl of hot soup? I'm on a bit of a soup kick these days. My latest adventure in soupin' was delicious and crazy easy; I brought one box of chicken stock, frozen veggies and random herbs to a boil. After letting the pot get hot and heavy for about 10 minutes, I added a package of refrigerated tortellini and let it cook for another 10.

Meanwhile, Earthly Joys is not giving me much joy. Funny, because I scooped up this book thinking its style would be similar to Gregory's other novels, but tragically, not the case. The book is not overly engaging; I devoured most of her other goodies--The Constant Princess took me two days. Earthly Joys is one of her earlier works. Perhaps this early in her writing career, Gregory was still working out the kinks? Whatever the case, I remain a huge fan. However, I'm growing a wee bit tired of reading the phrase "Tudor charm and guile."

Lastly, I'm having some issues with Gregory's main character, John. He's a bit wishy-washy and loves to travel even though it means leaving his wifey and son behind. Plus, he's named his child after himself. Not a big whoop, no. But the kid's got a nickname: Baby J. Whenever I read about the tot's shenanigan's, one image comes to mind.

This gent is BJ Penn, one of my fave UFC fighters, for obvious reasons. For those not all up in the minutiae of MMA, BJ stands for "Baby Jay." Granted, it's been sometime since I studied 17th century British literature, but I'm not terribly convinced that these folks gave their kiddos such cutesy hip names. Am I wrong on this one?

Reaction to our appearance on last night's episode of What Not to Wear:

Aunt J: (via email) Hey! Saw you both on the show! Cool! I want a credit card with 5k to spend on it!

Grandma: Saw you guys on the show. Looking good!

BF's mom: Wow, you guys are movie stars.

L, my BFF: (giggling uncontrollably) Were you guys following the camera around? And why did you always have a drink in your hand?

C, BF's BFF: (replaying the DVR'd episode for us, much to our chagrin) Look, there you are! And again!

D, BF's BFF's wife: (watching above DVR'd material with us) Hey, it's Rosemary's arm! And BF's head!

I don't think we have much of a future in reality television. Good thing we had a blast while it lasted! :)

BJ Penn image from BJPenn.com.

In My Opinionation

2009-05-29T13:25:00.000-07:00

For the sixth grade class picture, I dressed up in a floral empire dress and pointy jeweled flats--worn with socks, I'm sure. The crowning glory of this ensemble, however, was my hat. A faded denim bucket beauty with a Gerbera daisy just above the rim, which cruelly, school administrators forced me to remove due to a strict no hat policy. Alas. My fashion inspiration?

Yup, that's right. Blossom portrayed by the fantastic Mayim Bialik. I love love love that show. Do you remember the episode where Blossom imagined she was all fancy and on tour like Madonna? Epic.

Anywho. Imagine my surprise, two years ago (and new to the office) to find out that a coworker is one of Mayim's closest friends. What?! Hold the iphone. Fortunately, this coworker is a pal and was not weirded out by my Blossom love. And, how sweet is this--for my 25th bday, she had Mayim send me a signed headshot. Precious, no? It's displayed rather prominently at my desk--meant to snap a pic before I left the office but forgot. I promise to post it ASAP, though.

Update 5/30: Here it is!

So then. When this pal whispered a few months back about the possibility of Mayim going on What Not to Wear, I flipped! And of course begged for an invite to the reveal party. Happily, she obliged and a little over a month ago, the BF and I ventured over the hill to the charming Ca' Del Sol in Toula Lake for the reveal party's taping! Holy moly. We enjoyed yummy (free!) drinks and tasty (free!) appetizers until. THE REVEAL! I don't want to give away too much but Mayim looked smokin'.

Be sure to watch tonight! You might be able to catch a glimpse of me and the BF in the background shots. I was wearing a blue/black color block dress and the BF wore...oh, who gives a Six! It's all about Blossom!

Old school Blossom image from Fox News.

For a Girl

2009-05-28T18:23:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, I wish I could be more like Madonna.

Yesterday afternoon I took an aisle seat next to a pleasant woman in her mid 30s wearing a teal terry cloth track suit. Ordinarily, we would not have exchanged a word. We should have just been able to ride in silence. However.

The rapid bus we rode pulled up to a stop near a Whole Foods. Looking back, of all places for such a thing to start. The 9-5 passengers on their way home and surely some on their way to domestic servitude filed onto the bus. A youngish girl in a black flared skirt, white blouse and knees high socks sashayed past the driver without paying the requisite $1.25. Of course, the bus driver called out her infraction and encouraged those holding passes to move along.

A man stood behind the youngish girl. I glanced up and noticed his arms were wrapped around a large parcel. Assuming he was carrying groceries, I looked back down to Earthly Joys. No sooner had I finished reading the sentence "The earl shrugged," did the Parcel Man catch my eye again.

He stopped right next to me in the aisle. There was ample room for him to continue on to the rear of the bus. However. He planted himself there. I looked up again and saw that the loot he held did not boast fancy grocery store origins. Blankets, once ivory were now patinaed salmon from constant street exposure, black trash bags of varying sizes, crumpled jeans, and shoes without mates or laces. He held all of this and probably more. Until. He dropped his entire stash on the floor. Next to me.

At this point, the bus had moved on from the Whole Foods stop. We were bounding along rather apprehensively until he showed his hand. Then we got straight up frightened. Holding on to the aisle's hand rails, he leaned into the open space above the indie rocker girl who sat across from me.

Parcel Man: (grumbling, mostly incoherently) What the f-is that? Grass? Sky? Can't tell no more, nope nope. I sees it but it don't see me.

Indie rocker's magenta bob was all I could see. I looked over to offer a sympathetic look but she had turned her body completely the other way, looking out her window, practically sitting on top of her neighbor. At the next stop, she managed to slickly exit the bus without notice. Once he realized her seat had been vacated, he pointed to a 20-something girl standing near the front of the bus.

Parcel Man: Missy, you take this seat here. Imma not goin' sit, cuz Imma gentleman like that.

20-something (nervously): No, no. It's fine. I'll just stand, thanks.

Parcel Man: Well, f-you, you f-ing b*#ch. All y'alls b*#ches. And I killed before. And I kill again. See, I ain't a gang banger or nothin', but I kill a gang banger no problem.

My track suited neighbor and I shared a silent conversation punctuated by worried brows. I looked down at Earthly Joys, focusing. Acting like I was focusing but really reading the same word over and over. Track suit looked down at her hands and then pretended to concentrate on something outside. Anything to avoid attracting attention.

Parcel Man: (pointing outside the window) What the f-you lookin' at, you mother f-er? I kill you. All you. I'm not scared.

But we all were. A dozen scenarios ran through my head simultaneously. If I sneezed, could that set him off? Would my fellow passengers protect me? Would I extend the same courtesy? Of course. The spine of Earthly Joys is relatively meaty and blunt. What else? The can of hairspray in my gym bag could be useful, but how to access the trigger quick enough?

It's almost too cliche, but his left hand held a brown paper bag that he lifted to his mouth several times during our ride. Just about every time he raised his arm for a drink or returned it to its resting place at his side, he collided with my shoulder. I inched and inched closer to Track suit until we were both crowded against her window. When our eyes met again, she gave a warm, kind look and nodded to scoot even closer.

Parcel Man had fully engaged in a battle of words with a phantom rider. Apparently this non-existent instigator had insulted one thing or another. I began calculating how I would exit the bus. I'd get off at the next stop, even though my own was about 5 stops away. When he swung around to hover in the still empty space across from me, I could scoop up my things and silently slip away. Hmm. Opportunity vs. risk. Hmm.

Our bus pulled to a stop. Parcel Man fussed over his things. Oh, hell, there goes my chance. Suddenly, he swept everything up and sprinted off the bus.

Every single passenger looked around and half smiled. I swear I heard a collective sigh. Track suit and I looked at each other.

Me: Oh my God. I was totally going to get off the bus if he didn't.

Track suit: Me too! That was really scary.

Me: Yeah, I was literally planning my escape but-

Track suit: I know, what if he noticed you and, I dunno, picked a fight? What then? I just, I just...

She and I had a lovely (albeit adrenaline charged) chat until I reached my stop. Before I exited, though, I noticed most other passengers were doing the same. Animated expressions, quick hand gestures and an impressive number of relieved smiles.

Wanna Play a Game?

2009-05-27T19:34:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, the BF and I met up with my talented/smart/kind/fun/creative/generally awesome photog friend Denise. I wanted to get some busing it pix that weren't taken with my iphone, which is a real life changer (how did I survive prior to the I Can Has Cheezburger app?!) but the images it takes leave something to be desired.

See if you can identify any of our shooting locales. A hint: none of these stops are ones I frequent. Bonus points if you can identify the book I'm holding, should be pretty easy for fashionable Ro and francophone K.

On location #1

Need a hint? Here's the view to my left.

On location #2

On location #2a

On location #3, hint, there's an Indian restaurant AND a 7-11 behind me!

And just for fun. The BF in front of a random red wall in Los Feliz. Aw, what a cutie.

Aaahh!!! Real Monsters

2009-05-26T18:29:00.000-07:00

Apparently the buses of Los Angeles have been taken over by slimy monsters. Gross. Though I hate these sorts of PR schemes, I couldn't resist and checked out the website. Turns out these posters are promoting a film due out this summer. I found the trailer a bit misleading; it starts off looking like a movie about immigration, national security, political spending power and the like. Wow, an interesting art house type film with an important message and a budget sizable enough for promotion. Then, psych! It's about aliens or giant insects. I'm not really sure which. But, wtf, right?

It's odd that my bus adventures and literature selections often intersect, isn't it? My latest book is Philippa Gregory's Earthly Joys. The gentry of England are adjusting to their new king: James I. Scottish James has been doing the king thing for quite some time in Scotland and Ireland. But when his new British peeps hear his royal voice, holy smokes, are they in for a surprise.

"'You can get up,' the new kind said gruffly, his accent extraordinary to those subjects who had only ever heard a monarch speak in the queen's ringing rounded tones."

In addition to shocking the Brits with his brogue and manly ways (to say the least), James rolls with a full Scottish entourage. The English are fascinated, and perhaps just a teenie bit grossed out by the recent imports.

What is it about the new, foreign or other that fascinates us so? I suppose I should explain that I'm what you might call "of mixed heritage" and I get the question: So what ARE you? all.the.time.