Jay Bird

I approached a crosswalk today that had a few people waiting for the lighted red man to change. As I was assessing the "has anyone pushed the button yet?" situation, one of the guys took a step off the curb. He looked both ways, like any good citizen, and then turned to all of us and said, "Are we gonna do this, people?"

I sort of giggled and said, "I meeeann, if we all do it together....doesn't count right?"

Our little crew of 5 strangers quickly agreed to make the trek across the street even though the sign said we weren't allowed. And one of us made "tweet, tweet" sound effects the whole way.

Who needs a water cooler when there's a liquor store?

Late nights at work sometimes mean a much needed adult beverage to accompany me. It makes working long hours a little more worth it. (Maybe)

Tonight, I made the 1/2 block walk to the local liquor store and it was such a perfect break.

The couple in front of me was in desperate need of Butterscotch Schnapps. But the language and accent barriers between them and the store owner was a mission in itself.

"Do you have Butterscotch Schnapps?"
"Yes, we have scotch. Very good scotch."
"No, no...BUTTERscotch SCHNAPPS. Do you have that?"
"Yes, scotch. We have many."

This went on for minutes I suppose, but it felt like ages. In a good way. Ages of break that I needed from my computer.

The conversation ended in the couple writing down exactly what they wanted and the store owner promising he'd have it tomorrow because the truck was coming and he'd be sure to order it special.

My Shannon.

I walked into my house today and amongst the clutter of us still trying to figure out what we're doing with our living room, somehow, a photo jumped out and practically slapped me in the face.

It seemed brand new and (in my mind) had to have just appeared that day.

It was of my friend Shannon. Framed and beautiful.

Last time I saw her was Memorial Day and my guess is she secretly placed it then. But today was the first day I noticed it. Seems impossible. And amazing.

What's even more strange, just moments before, I was at the grocery store picking out a bottle of wine and really wanted to buy a bottle called Shannon Fields because it made me think of the lady named Shannon -- who apparently left a secret photo in my apartment.

Connect 4

I'm always so excited when LA feels a little like a small town.

I went to a friend's reading tonight and and ran into a few band members from Super Duper who have supported LA Guerrilla Gardening in the past. Love them.

Also, the band at the event had a drummer that I couldn't quite place. I finally figured out he's in another friend's band here in LA called Killsonic.

Love when friends are connected to friends and friends. And seeing it in real life, sans Facebook, ...so much better. So much.

Queue

Waiting in line is not a phenomena in LA.

But this morning, it was refreshing to see a line outside the library before they were open with people waiting to get in.

I just need guts.

This picture, unfortunately, will have to go without explanation. But if you've ever read my Twitter or perhaps hear me mention a certain whistler in my life....this was an amazing photo to come across today.



And it comes from this post, if you're curious.

Going under

My roommate and I used to race to be the first to jump in the pool. There's something so amazing about being the first one in to an untouched swimming pool.

You break the perfectly still surface and plunge into pure silence. Your mind becomes suddenly clear and you want nothing more than to hold your breath forever and avoid resurfacing to hear the bubbles and the break of the water and the world.

I was first in tonight. And I held my breath as long as possible as I glided through the silence and took a moment for myself.

Heaven.

Who has a joke? Or perhaps a piece of paper...

Man, I could use some laughter that makes me fall over. Why does getting older somehow require us to need more sophisticated comedy? I'm sure at some point I was this easily entertained.

Although, who am I kidding? It doesn't take much to get a giggle out of me.

Start Wearing Purple

I've been to see one or two bands in LA and I can't imagine having to play for LA crowds. We're pretty stuck up in general. But mostly, just not fun. Boo.

However, when Gogol Bordello comes to town, all the fun people come out from hiding. It's amazing to see the entire floor bounce as one. And there's hand-holding and friend-making and smiles. For miles.

I'm still high from the all the energy created in that space. And I think (even after a shower) I might still be little sweaty from dancing.

So. Much. Fun.

Like A Fat Kid Loves Cake

I imagine that title is a pretty accurate simile to describe your love for someone. But based on our research tonight, almost everyone loves cake.

Except hipsters.

We had some leftover, delicious cake at our little party at La Cita tonight and thought we'd offer it to strangers. The denial rate on the back patio chock-full of hipster/Rock-A-Billy clientele was pretty astonishing. But the with-out-a-doubt, eye-widening acceptance of free cake inside the bar was pretty great.

I never realized how much fun giving out free cake could be.

Next mission: Homemade T-shirts that say -- Hipsters Don't Like Cake. And show up at a random bar with free cake. Take notes.

I'll report back.

Thank you very much, sir.

I did the obligatory...drive-around-insistently-for-awhile-until-you-find-a-free-parking-spot...dance tonight. And it was waaay shorter than usual.

I did a half a circle based on where I wanted to be for the evening and as I contemplated actually paying the $10 to park, I made eye contact with the parking attendant.

With his awesome orange flag beckoning me to his lot, he gave me a "come here/wink, wink" look. And I realized there was a free meter spot available right in front of him.

I put my car in reverse and quickly parked my car. As I looked up, he gave me a quick thumbs up and then proceeded to lure the next unassuming driver into his lot.

Free Parking in LA is like 100 million times better than Free Parking in Monopoly. For the record.

An Average White Shark

I'm a sucker for good advertising. So much so, that if it moves me/makes me laugh/proves brilliance, I WILL purchase their product in honor of their successful marketing. It makes me feel like I'm rewarding the creative team for their hard work.

Case in point: The new Miller Lite radio ads. Have you heard these? I couldn't find a link to my favorite one, but this one is good too:
http://millerlite.com/commercials.html
(you have to select RADIO from the pull down menu)

My favorite one is all about average:
--When's the last time you were scared of an average white shark?
--Bought your dad a mug that says World's Averagest Dad? Guess what? You're the World's Jerkiest Son.
--If the book Great Expectations was called Average Expectations, it wouldn't be worth Dickens.

They make me laugh. Every time.

Silly mascara

As a girl (who sometimes wears makeup) there's a sweet, sweet moment when your eye starts to itch and you carefully, strategically move your finger in close to lightly scratch without smudging... and then...Aha! you remember you don't HAVE any makeup on. Yesss. So you just dig in and rub the crap out of your eye.

What's it called again? The small things?

Language.

There are smells in your life that instantly bring up a memory...in a picture perfect way. There are also sounds that do that same.

But, for me, there are words that after a certain stint, will always mean whatever they insinuated in that meaningful moment.

I'm not sure how true this is for everyone...but I have three that I can think of right now, that make me giggle or smirk no matter what context they're mentioned in.

Area: I had a friend refer to a woman's private parts as her "area" and to this day, I can't hear that word and not think of him and women and private parts.

Too Much: I also have a friend who created a video for me where he was suddenly Mexican and suddenly an expert at making margaritas. He might have slipped at some point and put too much tequila in the cup. And so delicately and comedically said, "Oh, it's too much." And I'll never be able to hear those words different than the words that came out of his mouth.

Nine Times: Oh, Ferris. Of the Bueller variety. I can't hear those two words and not think of your movie. Of Dirty Harry tattle-tailing to your mom about your absenteeism..."Niiiine Times."

Commitment.

There are two types of people in this world:
1. Those who commit to a costume when it's suggested for a party.
2. And those who don't.

Both types are nice people. Both are sometimes funny. Both are typically well-mannered. Both clean behind their ears. But those number 1 types...well, there's a teeny place in my heart for you and you can stay there forever.

Big fat thanks (and infinity high fives) to my brother, Ms. Rita and Captain Denis.
We're awesome.
Arrgh.

Pasteles Individuales

Remember the little cupcake holder? Well not only did it get to carry delicious treats and make people happy; it went international.

To Madrid, people.

Strong play, blind date girl, strong play.

Tennessee does it right.

I'm sort of anti food photos. Ya know, when people post pictures of a meal they've cooked or some amazing dish at a restaurant. It's just weird to me.

And today, I'm anti this particular food photo posting by a family member because it's making my mouth water and leaving me pining for home.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I introduce you to:

The very famous pulled pork BBQ sandwich.
Carefully smoked (for hours upon hours) by the one and only, Harriet Pontius. (my mama)
And smothered with homemade coleslaw and top-secret recipe Hell Jess hot sauce.

Everything about this sandwich is spectacular and represents the southern roots I'm so proud of:

• Messy meals that drip onto your plate and beg you to lick your fingers.
• Passed down secret recipes: It's called Hell Jess, because my grandfather used to sit down at the table, sandwich ready to be devoured and would say to my grandmother (Jessie), "Hell, Jess where's the hot sauce?"
• Food that doesn't have a nutrition label
• and Family
  

Green Clown

I saw this guy waiting for the bus a few weeks ago and was so bummed I didn't get a picture. When I saw him again, I couldn't wait to share. But now that I've noticed him, I see him everywhere. At the bus stop, walking in my neighborhood...it's crazy.

My only guess is that he's a professional clown and he rides the bus to work (kudos!). But I haven't figured out what the orange bucket is for.

Tips?

The Elite.

Today, I threw myself the biggest pity party I have in awhile. You should have been here, it was great.

After a day of teary movies and pining over various missing elements of this 30-year-old's life, I opened my computer to put on just one more sad song. Well, low and behold, look what was in my inbox:



Goodness gracious. Online dating validation. Do you need much more in life? And, I mean, if I made it in the top half of most attractive users...boys will be knocking down my door soon, right? Or at least my inbox. Sweeeet.



And what an honor, I've graduated to elite status. So now they're going to show me all the hot boys they've been hiding.

Thanks for the giggle, OKCupid. Needed it.

It ain't gonna grow legs and put itself away...

I'm not sure if it stems from being a kid and being told what to do, but sometimes I hate putting things away. If you've seen my car, this is all making sense to you now. And for the record, sometimes having an eclectic mix of toys in my car makes for spontaneous fun. So shut it.

Right. So putting things away is especially irksome (yup, I used that word) when I've just busted my ass in the pool. The last thing I want to do is drag 25 meter lane lines back into the pool and fight that pokey metal end-piece to get it hooked to the wall.

Today, after the last goal was scored and I begrudgingly started swimming toward the pile of lane lines, my coach yelled, "No lane lines today. There's a game in the morning, so don't worry about it."

Yessssss. Made my day.

Face down, hands up.

Smart Phones are separating us as strangers. Bus stops and bars are filled with people face down, hands up...reading something super important on their hand-held devices. It's becoming less and less likely for small talk and random conversations with a new face.

However, lately, I've seen quite a few people put down their phones and engage with a stranger.

Four times this week, I've been at a stop light and seen someone ask a fellow car for directions. I'm not sure why, but that makes me feel like I live in a small town. Mostly because somewhere in life everyone must have been taught that it's bad manners to deny the eye-contact, motion-to-roll-down-your-window smile from a stranger.

I like that.