Chasing Dragonflies

A Strange Night in Westwood

2009-07-12T18:30:00.000-07:00

June 25th was a strange night to be in Westwood, and I have to admit it got my journalist blood pumping.

Not only was there a fervent Iranian protest, but it was also the day Michael Jackson died at the UCLA Westswood hospital.

I went to participate in the protests, but clearly there was no way I could be just blocks from the biggest story of the year - the death of the most famous person in the world - and not go and check it out.

More on MJ in a minute, but first the protest.

The protests caused a storm of emotions to brew inside of me.

On one hand it was deeply personal: the regime is the same government that forced my family to flee Iran 30 years ago. I was six months old at the time.

But on the other hand, I have in a large part shunned the reality that I am half Iranian. I reject many of the cultural practices, the language is a second tongue to me, and I generally avoid large Iranian gatherings.

This confusion of rejecting a culture, yet longing to fit in came to the surface at this protest.

I separated myself from my cousin and waded into a crowd who had circled around a young man with a bullhorn.

The young man, his voice hoarse from several nights spent screaming into the bullhorn, lead the crowd in chants. My voice mingled with the rest of the crowd:

"Natarseed, Natarseed. Ma Hame ba ham hasteem!"

"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid! We are all together!"

As I said these words, I grieved for my family and my dad in particular, who feel such a tragic sense of loss over what happened to their homeland 30 years ago.

I looked around and saw people of all ages -- children, college students, working adults, grandparents. The crowd was probably 95% Iranian, but there were a few Americans as well.

By 11 p.m. the crowd began to disperse. People released their green balloons, a gesture for those who lost their lives at the hands of the regime.

The protest concluding, I decided to go over to the UCLA Medical Plaza where Michael Jackson had died hours earlier.

If a story in my city makes international news, I want to be there to see it for myself.

Anyway, just as I suspected, a large crowd had congregated outside the medical center. It was a much different crowd from those who attended the Iranian protests.

These were people of all different races. Some were UCLA students, others were older fans who probably remembered MJ from his heyday in the '80s.

To be honest, they were all a little bizarre--about what you'd expect a hardcore MJ fan to be.

And what a media spectacle it was. Probably a quarter of those assembled were journalists. I remembered thinking, God, I hope nobody sees me here on TV and thinks I'm one of these crazed fans.

Multiple helicopters circled overhead. Boom microphones and bright stage lights illuminated the grounds. Expertly-coifed men in suits interviewed those at the scene.

The energy was an odd mixture of party atmosphere and solomn reflection. It demonstrated to me the very different ways people grieve.

I wandered around and was shocked to see people wearing T-shirts that read "Michael Jackson: 1958-2009." The man's body wasn't even cold yet and somebody was already capitalizing on his death by selling t-shirts.

One man, a boom box on his shoulder, pushed through the crowd. His speakers blared Beat It.

Spontaneously, people in the crowd began to dance. Everyone sang the words to the song. Someone else in the distance led the crowd in a chant of "Michael, Michael, Michael".

My curiosity satisfied, I decided it was time to leave. Ten minutes later I was home, my mind swimming about what a strange, strange city I live in.

Life is Short, Live it Up

2009-07-12T18:08:00.000-07:00

A few years ago I was driving to work, counting down the days 'til the weekend. It was an early week day, Tuesday or something, and I was thinking, "God, I can't wait for Friday...I hope this week goes fast."

I started to think about how most people probably feel this way about their life rythym -- working for the weekend, so to speak.

Suddenly it occurred to me that so many of us are wishing our lives away. We pray for time to pass quickly so we can get to the good stuff, not comprehending that we are speeding through youth, vitality, and life itself.

In essence, we're missing out on the big and small treasures each day could hold, by zipping through them at mock speed.

It was an epiphanous moment, and since that time I've really tried to make each day count, as much as I could.

We're all invited to this banquet of life, and I personally want to try as many tastes as I can before they make me leave.

It might be a bit morose, but all this news of governments murdering their citizens, planes crashing, and celebrities dying made me think about just how short each life can be.

Work Last Friday

2009-07-12T17:44:00.000-07:00

All in a day's work:

Bridge to Nowhere Hike

2009-05-31T16:39:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I found myself knee-deep in chilly, mountain river water on the Bridge to Nowhere hike.

This nine-mile round trip hike is one of the best I've been on in California. You've got a little bit of everything - rocks and boulders, a mountain stream, gold panners, fly fishermen, and of course the innocuous Bridge to Nowhere.

Oh, and did I mention bungee jumping? It's the only site in Southern California where bungee jumping is allowed. None of us participated but it was fun to watch.

The Bridge to Nowhere was built in 1936 when there were plans to make a mountain road from San Gabriel to Wrightwood. The project was abandoned before it was completed due to wash-out from river flooding.

So you literally have this man-made arch bridge in the middle of nowhere that leads to nothing - a dead end. You can reach it only by hiking.

We started out at about 9:30. It was a temperate, grey morning - perfect for hiking. It wasn't long before we came to a river crossing -- our first of many.

I started out trying to gingerly step on slippery rocks, but the water was just too high, so I eventually gave up and made the plunge -- knee-deep into the river water, socks, shoes and all.

We had to cross the twisting river probably another 20 times that day. It was a lot of fun!

We reached the bridge around 12 pm and had a little picnic down below on the boulders near the river. A group of bungee jumpers threw themselves off the bridge - their screams and laughter echoed through the canyon.

Here's a shot looking down from the bridge.

These guys are panning for gold. Uh, didn't anyone tell them that the California Gold Rush ended 160 years ago?

On our way out:

More information: Modern Hiker

Celebrity Sighting: Taye Diggs

2009-05-31T16:18:00.000-07:00

This is an old one, but I forgot to post it. Saw Taye Diggs (the 'love interest' in How Stella Got Her Groove Back) coming out of the pit at the Earth Wind & Fire concert in New Orleans a few weeks ago.

I saw this girl earnestly trying to snap a photo of him. Me, being oblivious to all celebrities, had no idea who he was. "Taye Diggs" she told me. So I shouldered my camera and snapped this photo.

Now that's a good looking man.

Celebrity Sighting - Nick Lachey & Matt Leinart

2009-05-31T16:04:00.000-07:00

It was a TwoFer at the Parlour in Santa Monica on Friday night: Nick Lachey (Jessica Simpson's ex) and Cardinals' QB Matt Leinart.

Both were irresistibly handsome in person. They were watching the Lakers with a gaggle of what was undoubtedly USC sorority girls.

This raises an interesting question - are ALL celebrities friends? It appears so. It's like this secret society, like the Illuminati or Free Masonry. They all seem to know each other and party together.

The rest of us are like the great unwashed.

Anyway, we stood behind Matt at the valet later that night. He didn't take any of the girls home, at least from what I could tell.

Happy JazzFest

2009-05-03T18:59:00.000-07:00

JazzFest was an amazing experience. It's been awhile since music made me feel that good. During JazzFest the whole city seems to be swept by that feelgood attitude.

"Happy JazzFest!" strangers on the street will say, as if it's your birthday.

The fairgrounds in midtown are a 10 minute cab ride from the French Quarter where we were staying. Stages are erected across the grounds and dozens of singers and bands perform each day.

Our first day we took it easy and camped out at Congo Stage. This stage is named after a part of the city called Congo Square where freed slaves used to congregate 150 years ago on Sundays to play music and dance -- probably the birthplace of New Orleans jazz and zydeco music.

We saw reggae band Third World and later Erykah Badu. She was fro-licious. I'm still trying to figure out whether this is her real hair, or a wig.

The next day was a tough one because there were so many good bands to see. For instance, on Dave Matthews, Earth, Wind & Fire, and Etta James were all playing at the same time on different stages.

I was really torn about what to see, but my course of action actually worked out really well. I started the day in the Blues Tent where a local band called the Ebony Hillbillies were playing.

Then we caught a little bit of Better Than Ezra - they were somewhat disappointing so we didn't stay too long. We got some food, hung out at the Congo Stage listening to some local band, then made our way towards the throngs of people waiting to see Dave Matthews.

I wormed my way through the massive crowd until I was about 30 feet from the stage. The energy up there was amazing, especially while he was singing Marching Ants.

We stayed there for about an hour and then hustled across the fairgrounds to the Gentilly Stage to see Etta James. What timing...five minutes after we got there (and I again wormed my way to the front) Etta belted out "At Last". For being 71, she's still got it.

Etta finished up the song and then proclaimed, "Beyonce, that's MY song!" to the delight of the audience. She finished her set shortly thereafter, and I raced back to the Congo Stage to catch the end of Earth, Wind & Fire (by now my friends and I had gotten separated).

Now emboldened by my crowd-worming techniques, I decided to take it one step further. Actually, a woman standing next to me suggested that if I wanted to take pictures I should jump the fence and get into the photographer's pit right below the stage.

So that's exactly what I did. Nobody was looking and I pushed the fence open and siddled right through. I didn't have the badge like others, but I find if you act like you own it and you carry a large enough camera, people tend to believe you have a right to be where you are.

Earth, Wind & Fire were awesome. These guys have been around since my parents were in college and watching them on stage, you would think this was the first time they were performing for a big crowd. Such energy and passion.

The crowd was a mix of black and white, young and old. And everybody was getting down, having a good time. Their show ended and with it the fairgrounds were closing too.

I didn't want to leave, but I guess that's a good way to end anything....wanting more.

Adventures on Bourbon

2009-05-01T00:45:00.000-07:00

The aptly named Bourbon Street is the main strip through the French Quarter of New Orleans.

Loud, thumping house music bursts out of clubs with neon signs.

Broken beads lay unclaimed on the road. Some are stuck on electrical wires or trees. And as I learned, you don't really have to do much to get some beads.

Drunken revelers hooting and hollering from the balconies overhead throw beads at anything that moves.

Nothing seems to close, ever, and it's never too early for a morning eye opener.

Despite its fame, I found the main stretch of Bourbon Street to have the least soul of the city.

It's not horrible, but you'd do better to go off this beaten path, even just a couple blocks, where the drinks are cheaper, the clubs are more interesting, and the people are nicer.

We went twice to La Fitte's, a Bourbon Street bar, but far away from the main stretch. Named after the New Orleans pirate Jean LaFitte, legend has it that this is the oldest continuously operated bar in America.

The interior is lit solely by candles, illuminating the rustic brick facade in a hazy glow.

The candle flickers bounce off dark bottles of rum and vodka. You can almost imagine sitting beside Jean LaFitte and his rag tag crew downing pints of brew.

Big Easy

2009-05-01T00:27:00.000-07:00

New Orleans has the festive, all-hours debauchery of Las Vegas, but it's Sin City with a soul. As one traveller I encountered this past weekend explained, "The energy of New Orleans is pure."

It's not manufactured or sanitized. Layers and layers of history-some good, some bad-give it an authentic texture that new cities like Los Angeles and Las Vegas can't touch.

You walk down a street in the French Quarter and jazz music spills out of windows in dark bars and alleyways, regardless of the day or time.

Sometimes the bands set up shop righ tin the middle of the street. A single musician and his harmonica, or a four-piece band with tuba, trombone, fiddle, and drums.

Here are a few of my favorite street musician shots:

Back from New Orleans

2009-04-30T23:52:00.000-07:00

I must have been seriously PMSing on my last post, "People to Hate". So as promised, I will follow it up with something a little more light-hearted.

How about my trip to New Orleans for JazzFest??

That city inspired me. It was a sensory symphony of smells, sounds, tastes, and sights (I could add 'touch' in there too, but this is a family blog after all). And it all came together to create a perfect masterpiece.

Imagine savoring grilled oysters drenched in butter sauce while listening to the sweetest, soulful jazz musician standing on the corner of a 350 year old street. Beauty abounds, and you don't know what sensation to enjoy first, so you do it all at once. Pure bliss.

I can't decide what I liked more, the food or the music. Rest assured that I indulged in both until the mere mention of the word 'jambalaya' made me nausious, and I turned the other way when I saw a brass instrument.

Actually, I didn't really get sick of the music because it's so varied. But the food...well, let's just say I was happy to get back to a diet that included leafy items.

So with that introduction, watch for some New Orleans posts and pictures.

People to Hate

2009-02-14T01:58:00.000-08:00

It's been awhile, I know. I've had lots to say but fortunately for you, dear readers, I've been venting verbally to everyone around me (sorry, co-workers) instead of in the blogosphere.

See, the thing is, these are really fucked up times. And I sure wish everyone else around me would go ahead and get as mad as me. There are so many people to hate right now. This might end up being a negative post, so I promise I'll follow it up with something more positive.

1) Wealthy, Wall Street trash. I put these greedy bastards somewhere between the decaying pig's feet in the Chinatown dumpster and the sewer rats feasting on them. I say throw these elitist, arrogant, inept bankers and CEOs right into that trash heap, three-piece suit and all.

I hope and pray for a fast economic recovery, and I'm tired of seeing friends get laid off and good people lose their homes. But this country needs to take serious inventory of its values. All this consumerism and bling-chasing. I think the only way real change is going to happen is if we have real hard times and an economic revolution.

Obama slapping 20 executives at each bank with a $500k salary cap isn't going to cut it.

I'm not calling for a guillotine, but I think those French peasants were on to something 200 years ago when they booted the boujies out. Some of these men deserve prison time, or at the very least, a forced career change.

2) Cheaters. Bernie Madoff is a good example. How do you get away with a scam that spans 40 years and involves $50 billion? Abraham Lincoln was right. The bigger the lie, the more people will believe it.

Of course, the real inspiration for this "Cheaters" category is Alex Rodriguez, Yankees third baseman who admitted this week that he used 'roids. The entire sport of baseball has been sullied in my opinion by the dishonesty of its players.

Well, A-Rod isn't as dispicable as Barry Bonds who still thinks the world will believe his hat size doubled over the course of a year or two from a mid-30s growth spurt.

3) Octuplet Mom. I don't necessarily hate her, as much as I pity her 14 children. This just seems like a blatant disregard for personal responsibility. You have six kids and are living on food stamps...why would you purposely add to the mouths to feed?

And I get that she had a troubled childhood and was looking for stability by creating her own family. But is that the best frame of mind in which to raise children -- hoping they will fill your own emotional void? Seems kinda selfish to me.

OK, done venting for the moment.

Doc Brown as Ebenezer Scrooge

2008-12-22T23:53:00.000-08:00

When you go to see theater in LA, you expect it to be good, right?

It's not just because we're in the heart of the tinsel town, where everyone's a critic and standards are set high by a tough crowd.

But when the theatrical production you're seeing is being performed in the same theater where the Oscars take place, and includes a cast of noteworthy actors like Christopher Lloyd and John Goodman, you expect to get your money's worth.

So we went to see A Christmas Carol tonight at the Kodak Theater in downtown Hollywood. It was enjoyable but (and I'm being kind here) there were a number of mistakes and technical glitches that made the whole thing feel like community theater gone bad.

Props didn't operate correctly, stage backdrops were incorrectly placed, the sound from the speakers was fuzzy, and in at least one instance a character wasn't even on stage when his presence was referenced.

Doc Brown (aka Christopher Lloyd) played an okay Scrooge, and towards the end when a final stage technical miscue occurred, he did his best to ad-lib the situation to the delight of the crowd.

But honestly, most of the performances felt as though they were phoned in. It actually occurred to me that the play had only been rehearsed once or twice. The whole thing had no pulse, no vibe.

We attended the opening night performance, so that may explain some of the problems. I just hope they get their act together for the rest of the nights.

Anyway, it was cool to finally check out the Kodak Theater, where the Oscar Awards take place every year. I couldn't help but wonder whose famous ass had sat in my seat at last year's award ceremony.

P.S. And I finally found out what Daphne from Frasier is doing these days--she's playing Mrs. Bob Cratchit.

Auto CEOs should hitch-hike next time

2008-12-09T02:12:00.000-08:00

Is it bad that I hope Congress doesn't bail out the US automakers?

I mean, I definitely do not want 2.6 million Americans to lose their jobs. But neither do I want a single more Chevy or Ford on the road.

These corporations have been shoving gas-guzzling, poorly-made, and let's just be honest, fugly-ass cars down our throats for too long. That's what we have to choose from? I'll stick to Japanese or European, thank you very much.

The clincher for me was when one of the CEOs admitted in front of Congress last week that their business model for the last 20 years has been merely to compete with foreign automakers. Not to surpass, not to evolve, but just to play in the same league.

Oh, and they also fought Congress tooth and nail every time somebody suggested tightening fuel regulations. Now they want our money?? Ay, the arrogance.

But hey, at least this time they carpooled from Detroit together in one big, happy fuel-efficient road trip. That makes it all better.

As my 86-year old Grandma Nazima said in Arabic when we told her the news: "Next time they'll go by foot."

Everyone's an (art) critic

2008-12-09T01:06:00.000-08:00

What is good art?

It's a totally subjective question, I know. But sometimes I can't help but feel a bit inadequate when I fail to appreciate abstract works presented as "art" in a museum.

When I was back in Minnesota last week I made a trip to the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, and it was there that I realized something: the art that I like either tells an obvious story or has a fascinating history.

I don't get goosebumps from total abstractness, and if that makes me uncultured or not "new age" enough, then I guess I'll have to live with that.

Here's what I mean about history. Check out this painting above by Degas.

It's a beautiful painting of a young child, but when you learn the story behind the story, it becomes captivating (at least for me).

Apparently master Degas liked to visit his friend's family in the English countryside. On one visit he forgot his canvases. Not able to be without his work, the family provided Degas with the lining of a mattress, which he then used to paint young Hortense.

Years later, Hortense recounted this anecdote. Art historians scoffed at this story, saying it was charming but virtually impossible. It wasn't until the painting was being re-framed that blue stripes were found at the edges of the painting, consistent with a mattress lining.

Hearing that story made me like this paining even more.

It was fascinating to wander around the Mpls. Institute of Arts, a place I hadn't been in ages. So many of the works were nostalgic for me.

I remember studying them in elementary school through Partners in Art, a special museum outreach program teaching art history to young children.

Perhaps the painting that stirred the most emotions in me was Lucretia, this 1666 work by Rembrandt.

Lucretia was a noblewoman who was raped by an evil Roman ruler. To preserve her reputation and the name of her family, she told her husband and her brother what had happened and then committed suicide in front of them by plunging a dagger into her heart.

The gravity of her actions spurred her community into action and led to the overthrow of the Roman monarchy.

Can you believe that they presented this painting to 3rd graders at my elementary school?

I remember being so affected by the sallowness of her face and the defeat in her eyes. Our teacher decided to choose another painting to talk about when she saw how disturbed we were.

So it was pretty amazing to go back to the museum last week and see this painting that evoked such emotion in my 9-year-old heart. I stood near it for awhile, awed by Rembrandt's skill in conveying Lucretia's emotion. The angst and torment is palpable.

I'm not saying I'd want to hang that painting in my living room--it is a pretty depressing story. But moving nonetheless.

And I know some of you are wondering given my reputation, but yes, you can take pictures of all the paintings belonging to the Institute. I only got in trouble with the museum police once, and that was for taking a picture of a painting on loan (how was I supposed to know??)

Bond, James Bond

2008-11-17T00:38:00.000-08:00

I saw my first James Bond movie last night. Quantum of Solace was good, although it's unclear whether I liked it because it had a solid plot, or merely because Daniel Craig looks good in a suit.

I'm tending to believe it's the latter.

Now, I was a bit disappointed when they cast a blonde as Agent 007 a few years ago, but now I see why. Craig is every bit as handsome and debonair as any of the other Bonds.

And for comparison purposes, we rented a Connery Bond classic: Goldfinger, this afternoon.

I have to say, that movie sucked. And sorry, but Daniel Craig makes a better Bond.

I'll watch a Pierce Brosnan, Timothy Dalton and Roger Moore Bond movie too, and see how he stacks up against the others.

By the way, the Bond girl in Goldfinger is named Pussy Galore. They certainly weren't going for subtlty back in the '60s.

Post-Election Thoughts

2008-11-07T02:45:00.000-08:00

Election night was electric! I tried to get into the Obama California HQ party to watch the returns, but by the time we got there at 8 p.m. the place was already at its 5,000 person limit.

Severely disappointed, we ended up at Q's, a local bar near my house, and got there right as John McCain was about to give his concession speech.

Q's is a loud, crowded sports bar, but on that night every plasma TV they had was set to the news. You could have heard a pin drop as all eyes and ears in the bar focused intently on history in the making.

I actually got misty-eyed as Obama delivered a speech that will surely go down as one of the most stirring orations in recent memory. People in the bar cheered his words as though the Lakers had just won another championship.

I would have given anything to have been in Chicago to see the whole thing live and in person.

As it turned out, the victory of Obama and Democrats gaining several Congressional seats were the only positives of the night.

Minnesota appears to have re-elected Norm Coleman-R, and Michele "McCarthy" Bachmann-R; and Prop. 8 (gay marriage ban) passed in California.

Can somebody tell me how the hell we in California passed a proposition to give chickens more freedom and a mandated cage-free existence, while at the same time also voting for a law that in effect puts the shackles on gay peoples' happiness and freedom?

Ah, well. The gay people got there revenge by holding a massive protest today in West L.A. in front of the enormous Mormon Church on Santa Monica Blvd. (The Mormon church in Utah donated over $25 million for the passage of Prop. 8 in California...glad to see they have their priorities straight...don't use that money to help starving children or homeless families...let's keep the gays down!!).

The protest spilled into the street stopping traffic completely, and making me late for my tennis lessons, which of course made me all the more angry at the people and organizations who supported Prop 8.

I say if gay people really want to get the country's attention they need to take a page out of the Rodney King L.A. riots. Smash windows, loot businesses, set police cars on fire. That seemed to work when minorities wanted to get the LAPD back in line back in 1992.

Or they could take the Gandhi approach and go on a hungry strike.

But having a protest in the middle of a major street artery isn't exactly going to endear most Angelenos to your cause.

Everyone Get Out And Vote Today

2008-11-04T13:19:00.000-08:00

I'll put my own strong partisan feelings aside today on this blog to tell everyone, regardless of your political views, to get out and vote today.

Republican, Democrat, Independent, Socialist, Libertarian, or whatever...let your voice be heard!

My Election Predictions

2008-11-02T23:58:00.000-08:00

I can't wait for Election Day...not only so I can vote to put someone other than George Bush in the White House and strike down bigoted ballot initiatives like Prop. Hate (which would ban same-sex marriage in California), but also because it's so much fun to see who will win.

Here are a few of the issues I'll be paying the most attention to, and my predictions for their outcomes:

1) Obama will win the Presidency with more than 350 electoral votes. I think he'll take most of the swing states including Ohio and Florida, as well as states like Virginia that have voted Republican in the last four elections. Even states like Georgia and North Carolina aren't out of his grasp.

2) Proposition 8 will fail in California. But I think it's going to be uncomfortably close. Basically if this law passes, same-sex marriage will become illegal in California. It's probably the most talked about issue on the ballot this year, and the one that raises the most passions among people.

It will be a sad day if this Prop. isn't beaten back by Californians. We're supposed to be the most progressive state in the country and it would be a huge step back for human civil rights if it does pass. Don't these people have nothing better to worry about than what gay people are doing?? I say, anyone who votes Yes on Prop. 8 is doing so out of fear, and there is no logic behind fear.

3) Norm Coleman-R will beat Al Franken-D for U.S. Senate. This is a hotly contested race in Minnesota. Incumbent Coleman is a Republican turn-coat who used to be a Democrat back in his St. Paul mayor days. Al Franken is a goofball and I can't say I'd be thrilled to see him representing my home state. But then again, we did have Jesse 'the Body' as our Governor.

4) Michele Bachmann-R will beat Elwyn Tinklenberg-D for U.S. Representative in Minnesota. But give the guy credit...most people didn't know who he was until Bachmann went on Chris Matthew's Hardball show and spouted off about Obama being anti-American and the need to investigate other members of Congress. McCarthyism, anyone?

Tinklenberg has a shot to win, but unfortunately the conservative red-necks in the district I grew up in will probably choose to keep Bush's minion in her seat.

Ok, that's enough predictions. Now, if you'll excuse I need to begin studying the rest of the propositions and measures on the California ballot.

Another Political Rant

2008-10-03T00:16:00.001-07:00

I have to say, I was a little disappointed with the Vice Presidential debate tonight. Not because Sarah Palin did a solid job, thereby robbing us all of a comedic night (I was half-expecting Tina Fey funniness to ensue).

Alas, she held her own and preserved McCain's shot at the White House. But that's not what disappointed me.

What did disappoint me, greatly disappoint me, was Joe Biden's answer to a simple question: do you favor gay marriage?

Now all night long Palin and Biden were sparring. They disagreed on everything from the economy to energy to the war on terror, but the ONE point these politicians could all agree upon was that gay people should not have the right to marry.

It's kind of like 90 years ago when everyone agreed that women shouldn't have the right to vote. Or it's kind of like 60 years ago when everyone agreed that black people were inferior and that whites shouldn't be forced to mix with them.

I was watching the debate tonight with a small group of westside friends (the easiest way to describe us is by checking out the blog "Stuff White People Like"--organic food and co-ops, flip-flops, and liberal ideals--that's us).

All of our jaws dropped when Biden announced that he and Obama were against gay marriage.

I know many people in this country feel the same way, and I guess sometimes I forget that living where I do. They've made gay marriage legal in California, although Proposition 8, which we will be voting on in Nov. seeks to overturn that.

It seems silly now, the rights we denied certain groups of people thru history. When you see footage of politicians who stood in the way of the women's movement or the civil rights movement they look like bumbling neanderthals (Strom Thurmond, anyone?)

We take it for granted now--of course women can vote, of course segregation is wrong. Nobody questions it (unless you happen to fly a Dixie flag in your front yard and your name is Hank or Earl).

So how backwards are Barack and Biden going to look in 20 years from now for opposing equal rights for same-sex couples. You expect it from the Republicans, but the Democrats?? It's ludicrous.

My question to all those who oppose gay marriage is, how does it affect you?

I'm not married, but as a straight woman I will testify that the only affect it has on me is putting the best looking segment of the male population off-limits.

For those who are married, I ask you this: is the fact that same-sex marriage now in existence in some places causing your marriage to fall apart? Is it cheapening your own man-woman union? Is the sanctity between you and your spouse being destroyed by the "gay agenda"?

Of course not. How could it?

In my book, love is love when it's between two consenting adults. I can't understand why anyone would want to stand in the way of that, let alone make an amendment in the Constitution.

Phew, anyway, I don't know if these democrats are actually against gay marriage or if they feel like they have to say it in order to get elected. Either way, it's severely disappointing.

Why I (almost) Hope Barack Obama Loses

2008-09-29T22:13:00.000-07:00

Warning! Deeply cynical and pessimistic forecast coming up.

Let's face it people, we're heading for bad times in this country.

I don't care if Jesus Christ himself returns to Earth and gets elected President, things are not going to get much better in the next four-year term.

In fact, I believe that whoever is elected president this Nov. 5th is doomed to fail. There's just too much stacked against our next leader.

Will the situation in Iraq be stable and under control within the next four years? Unlikely. We've created so many enemies in that country it will take a generation at least to un-do the damage.

Think about it this way: there was no Al Qaeda in Iraq before we invaded. Now it's a training ground for young terrorists.

What will our economy look like in four years? Most economists are predicting we're heading for a recession. We're in for more job loss, more foreclosures, and more bankruptcies. It will take at least four years to put the wheels back on the cart.

Who would want to take the helm when the ship is about to sink? It's going to be a thankless job, and that's why I almost hope Barack Obama doesn't win. He'll be set up to fail and I don't want to see that.

On the other hand, do we dare wonder what McCain will do if he's elected, along with Sarah, "one heart-beat away" Palin?

Now some of the roots of this financial crisis began during the Clinton Administration, but it was exasperated during the Bush years with lenient corporate loopholes, wild Wall Street greed, very litle regulation, and well, overall stupidity.

He stole the election in 2000, but we were dumb enough to re-elect him in 2004. I wonder, do all Bush voters regret their 2004 decision or are they about to fall for it again with the McCain-Palin ticket?

If there's anyone else who reads this blog that voted for Bush in 2004, what is your opinion now? Do you regret your 2004 decision? Who do you plan to vote for in November?

I've been dying to talk to a Republican but I just can't find any in Santa Monica.

Craig's List...the only way to travel

2008-09-23T23:29:00.001-07:00

Who can afford to go to New York when two-star hotels in Manhattan are $400/night?

Certainly not me.

Enter Mr. Craig's List.

We found a decent apartment in the East Village (E. 3rd Street & 2nd Ave.) for $95/night.

Now, like you, I've heard the stories about Craig's List...for example, the nanny from Minnesota who was lured to a house by a Craig's List ad and then murdered.

So when we found this listing and responded, I was putting our chances of winding up on the streets of NY our first night at about 15%. We had little idea what to expect, but "Adi", who responded to our email inquiry seemed nice. And the price was certainly right.

Actually, everything turned out awesome and we couldn't have asked for better accommodations.

That brings my Craig's List score to Nicole 1, Murderers & Rapists 0.

To be honest, however, when we first arrived, things could have gone either way.

Our taxi pulled up to the address we were given at about 9:30 in the morning .

The first thing I noticed were half a dozen parked motorcycles and two shirtless men arguing on the sidewalk.

Upon closer inspection I noticed one of the nearby buildings had a huge "NYC Chapter of Hell's Angels" emblem affixed to it.

Curious.

Praying that one of these shirtless men wasn't "Adi" we rang a bell and someone from the next door down came out and led us inside to a spacious living room with hardwood floors, a cute kitchen, and the AC jacked all the way up.

Yes, the NYC Hell's Angels live next door, and yes, you should stay out of their way.

But our hosts were Hare Krishnas, peaceful, yoga-loving, religion observers who don't eat meat. Turns out they operated the whole building, renting 29 rooms out to travelers and guests.

The entire place was full of religious relics. A Star of David hung next to a photo of Jesus. Paintings of Krishna were everywhere, as were copies of the Bhagavad Gita, the Hindu holybook.

"We believe that you are a product of your environment," one of the Hare Krishna practitioners told me. "So if you are surrounded by faith and peaceful symbols, chances are you will be calm and tranquil."

It made sense, and honestly I have to say that when we stumbled into our room after long days battling NYC, the energy of our "home" made us feel comfortable and protected.

There was a kitchen for guests to use (although who wants to cook when you have the culinary adventures of New York to explore), and everything was spotlessly clean.

The only downside was that for our final two nights we had to stay in the loft, which was basically a matchbox of a space that you couldn't fully stand up in.

It didn't matter, because we were basically just there to sleep anyway.

It was a far cry from the first two nights, in which we got to sleep in a large room that opened up into a small garden.

Anyway, back to the Hell's Angels.

For those who don't know, the Hell's Angeles are the most notorious biker gang in the country. We were told this particular chapter on occaision gets raided by the NYPD. We were given a few tips to follow:

1) Don't talk to them unless they talk to you
2) Don't sit on their bench. They will yell at you
3) Do NOT, under any circumstances, mess with their bikes. You don't even wanna know...

On the plus side, the neighborhood is very safe because nobody wants to f*** around on the Hell's Angels turf.

Aren't the dichotomies of life strange? Hare Krishnas living next to Hell's Angels. Ying to the Yang, I suppose.

A word about homeless in NY

2008-09-22T22:55:00.001-07:00

One of the hardest things to get used to living in Los Angeles is the huge numbers of homeless people you see everywhere. When I first moved here it broke my heart every time I saw someone digging in a Dumpster or sleeping on a sidewalk.

Well, six years later with my heart hardened, I grew to see the humorous side of homelessness.

For instance, I had a good belly-laugh yesterday when the man outside Rite-Aid told me he accepted Visa and Mastercard when I said I didn't have any spare change.

And who can forget the "Nothin' but butt" story? If you haven't heard that one, be sure to ask me next time we talk. I've gotten so much mileage out of that story, the punchline has pretty much become an anthem among my friends.

So I thought I'd be ready to take on the New York homeless. Turns out, I'm not as seasoned as I thought.

First observations: the homeless in New York are a lot more mean and crazy, which roughly translates into more scary.

Take for example this guy:

My friend Brooke and I were waiting to cross the street on Park Avenue in Manhattan when he plows between us from behind and nearly bowls us over without saying a word.

It was so absurd, my friend and I both busted out laughing...the quintessential rude New York moment. So funny that we just had to take a picture of the infractor.

Of course, moments after we snapped this photo he sneered, "Go F*** yourselves!" causing us to double over in laughter again.

Ah, good times, but looking back, he could have killed us. I don't know if this picture does it justice but just look at the murderous gleam in his eye.

Two days later we were waiting for the subway in Brooklyn. It was about 2:30 a.m. and the station was nearly empty. This dishevled man sits next to me and starts talking...asking me if I'm Jewish, which denomination, and whether I would marry an Orthodox Jew.

I politely answer and try to avoid making eye contact. He won't shut up. Finally I tell him I need to stand up and get some air. He turns his attention to my friend, Brooke.

After telling him her name is Nicole, (much to my displeasure) she stands up and walks towards me with a scared look in her eye.

"Poor guy, he's crazy, but harmless," I tell her.

"Uh, Nicole," she begins. "He has blood on his shirt and his pants are down."

Then he started walking towards us. All Brooke in imagining right now is that scene in Beat City where the two characters get pushed onto the tracks.

Like an idiot, I stand still and he comes up and starts talking to me again.

Upon closer inspection I realized that Brooke was right. His shirt was speckled all over with dried blood (no doubt, splatter patterns from hacksawing somebody up in his bathtub the night before) and his pants were in fact hanging mid-thigh.

Yikes, that was all I needed. Crazy, yes. Harmless? More like homicidal.

Sorry, I don't have a picture of this one. It was a little too scary, even for me.

It's a shame there are people without homes in this country, but as a whole I'll take the mild-mannered homeless of Los Angeles over New York any day.

Recent Celeb Sighting

2008-09-22T22:24:00.000-07:00

The celebrities are literally following me everywhere I go. I can't get away from them. On Saturday morning it was Conan O'Brian and his wife.

I was eating breakfast at Cafe Montana when they walked in. He sat directly facing me at a table in the back of the restaurant.

At first I wasn't sure it was him (doesn't he film his show in NY?), but when I heard his voice it was a dead give-away. Also, I found out later that he made an appearance at the Emmy's this weekend, which would explain why he was in LA.

He's extremely tall--probably 6'4. His wife is very pretty.

Recent Celeb Sighting

2008-09-19T23:53:00.000-07:00

We interrupt the series of NY blog posts to bring this update:

I saw George Clooney Friday night. I was having dinner in the same Italian restaurant as he and his lady friend. It was Caffe Delphini, a small, dimly-lit restaurant in the Palisades.

George is extremely handsome but shorter than you would expect. His model girlfriend was taller than him.

We all left the restaurant at the same time, and outside he donned a gray felt hat. So adorable.

The one part that bugged me was that when we arrived at the restaurant, as we walked in this guy standing outside greeted us and then said, "please, no photos."

I didn't get it at the time. Later, a little birdie at the restaurant (our waiter) told us George Clooney was there. Then it all made sense. The man outside turned out to be George's driver/body guard.

That irked me. Who the hell does this guy think he is? Do we look like tourists? We weren't even in the restaurant yet for God's sake and he's acting all Secret Service. I thought it was kind of presumptuous of him to say that.

When I see a celebrity I admit that I stare. I don't mean to, but I can't help it. But never once have I taken a picture or approached them when they are in a public place eating or whatever.

Anyway, this sighting goes right up there with the Brad Pitt sighting from a few years ago as among the best.

Ground Zero

2008-09-17T23:19:00.000-07:00

We arrived in New York City last Thursday, which just happened to be the seventh anniversary of the Sept. 11 attacks.

Something in my old journalist's blood (which you never get rid of, by the way, even when you leave the profession) was stirred and I knew I had to go to Ground Zero.

I had spent a lot time covering the legacy of 9/11 on a local level during my time as a journalist.

I covered local reactions the day it happened and remembrance day events in subsequent years. I reported on L.A. County anti-terrorism measures, and wrote stories about local soldiers on their way to Iraq.

I spent one ThanksGiving with three young soldiers home on leave, and months later I attended the funeral of a local Marine killed in action.

It's no wonder I wanted to stand in the place where this age of terrorism and war began for America.

***************************

In New York, the subway sign on the way to Ground Zero still reads, "World Trade Center". The site today is nothing more than a huge hole in the ground. It's surrounded by a chain-link fence with heavy machinery and construction materials everywhere.

As we walked towards it, I tried to imagine what that day must have been like. It dawned on me that we were there around the time the second tower collapsed.

"Do you know, that seven years ago in this very place where we're walking right now, at this very moment, thousands of people were literally running for their lives?" I said to my friend.

She smiled and replied, "That's very dramatic, Nicole."

It actually was for me.

I was fascinated. I wanted to see everything. Every fire station we passed was filled with flowers and photos of those who had died that day. The event was clearly still fresh in the New York psyche.

There were many dignitaries, firemen, and police officers at the site on this day, including John McCain and Barack Obama.

We watched as John McCain's motorcade drove away. The old battle axe actually stuck his head and arm out the window to wave to everyone. All I saw was a shock of white hair as he drove by. We were hoping to see Barack too but he had already left.

A large memorial museum is planned for the site, but right now there's just one small space that houses some of the relics of that day including silverware from the Windows of the World restaurant (which nobody made it out of alive), firefighter apparel, and twisted metal columns from the builds.

The two most gripping items I saw were 1) the scorched window frame from one of the airplanes, and 2) a wall covered with snapshots of the victims during happy times in their short lives. I got a lump in my throat when I saw that and fought back tears.

Later that night after dinner we were walking back to our apartment in lower Manhattan. It was dark now, and we noticed two bright beams piercing straight up into the sky to the west.

We learned that the city does this each year on the anniversary of 9/11. Those lone columns of light were a tribute to the giants that fell that day.

Recent Celeb Sighting

2008-09-16T21:29:00.000-07:00

Joaquin Phoenix and I were on the same Virgin America flight to LA on Monday morning.

When I board a plane I always scan the faces of the rich bastards who dole out double fare to sit in first class. Joaquin was sitting near the back of the first class next to a window.

Our eyes met and it was love at first sight.

That's not true. Our eyes did meet, but whereas I did a double-take, he demurely looked back out the window.

It was 7:15 a.m. and he looked gorgeous.

Back from NYC

2008-09-16T12:00:00.000-07:00

Visiting New York is like the start of a new relationship. Everything about it excites you at first and you can't get enough. You overlook minor annoyances like its loud brashness, and the fact that it sometimes smells.

At first you think, wow, I could really see myself doing this long-term, maybe for life. But, then the novelty wears off and you realize it's a great place to visit but you couldn't do it forever.

It's more like the perfect antidote of cheap thrills on a lonely night.

So I just returned feeling fully satisfied from a 4-day trip to New York City. There are plenty of stories to share, but I'll have to break them up into separate blog posts.

A preview of what's to come:

1) My many encounters with crazy and in most cases toothless subway dwellers.
2) A visit to Ground Zero
3) The "do's and don'ts" of sub-letting an apartment next door to the NYC chapter of the Hell's Angels

That should be enough to get us started.

Recent Celeb Sighting

2008-09-07T23:40:00.000-07:00

I took a leisurely stroll with Woody Allen & Soon Yi a few nights ago down Canon Drive in Beverly Hills.

It was a beautiful evening-we had just finished a lovely dinner at Xi'an. Woody & Soon Yi held hands as we meandered down the sidewalk.

OK, actually I was walking in one direction and they were walking in another, but for a brief moment, we were walking together, shoulder to shoulder.

Woody looks like a doofus, but dammit that man is brilliant. A few days after my sighting Al and I went to go see Vicky Cristina Barcelona, which Woody wrote and directed. He's gotta be around 70 years old, but clearly, this man still has it.

At first, I wasn't sure it was him when I saw him on Canon. It could have been any other dorky older Jewish man with thick black glasses, a button-up shirt and a slightly stooped gait.

But when he passed and I heard him speak in his distinctive NY accent, there was no question. My cousin and I stopped and looked at each other and at the same time said, "That was Woody Allen."

And for the record, my favorite Woody Allen movie is definitely Manhattan, followed by Match Point.

Here's Something I Love About LA...

2008-08-07T23:30:00.000-07:00

We get the best of the best events here and it's a daily occurrence. There's always something going on, involving somebody important, and it's all there for our viewing pleasure.

You just have to know about it.

Tonight I went to see a round of the U.S. Open Series. It was held just a few miles down the street from my house.

We sat center court about 20 rows up and watched the No. 9 tennis player in the world, Andy Roddick, throttle his opponent. Then we sneaked down to the second row for the next match between John McEnroe and Mikail Pernfors.

It was an amazing match that went down to a tie breaker which McEnroe won.

But I have to say the best part was watching McEnroe's antics. This guy is pushing 50 so I thought advancing age may have softened him.

But nope. Turns out he's still the same old John.

He argued with line judges, yelled back at heckling fans ("can someone check the blood alcohol level of this fan?" he shouted), and threw his racket on the ground multiple times.

I loved every minute. We were sitting so close I could have spit on him. But then he probably would have ripped my head off.

He's a fierce competitor, and it's great to see that. When he eked out the final point on an Ace serve, I was on my feet clapping with everyone else.

A great night in LA.

Earthquake in California!

2008-07-29T12:10:00.001-07:00

We just had an earthquake! I don't want to sound cavalier, but it was fun!!

It was one of those good old rolling ones that kind of builds in intensity and shakes the walls and ceiling.

It was a 5.8, which I think gives me some earthquake street cred now. Up until now, the biggest one I felt was like a 4.3.

I was at work and things started to shake, which sometimes happens when a big truck rolls by. But it didn't stop, and got stronger and stronger. Everyone popped up from their chairs alarmed (one girl dove under her co-worker's desk).

Once the shaking stopped we all funneled outside. People tried to make phone calls but the lines were jammed.

It was a nice way to break up the monotony of the work day, at the very least.

San Francisco Crime Scene

2008-07-18T00:34:00.000-07:00

San Francisco police are nice...as I discovered at 4:20 a.m. last Saturday in the hotel lobby of Buena Vista Motor Inn.

Mary & Kate were visiting from Minnesota and we had rented a car to drive up to San Francisco. Our vehicle was a total gangstermobile....a black, bad-ass Dodge Charger.

Was it the car that attracted unwelcome attention or the $350 Garmin GPS device I left in blatant view on the middle console? In any case, some San Francisco junkie decided it was worth punching his fist through the window to get it.

We awoke to a phone call from the front desk, telling us that our car had been broken into and the police were in the lobby waiting to talk to us.

We went down to the car and couldn't believe what we saw...the passenger window was totally smashed, a big splatter of blood stained the cement, and streams of blood dripped down the middle console and dash.

It totally looked like someone had gotten whacked in that car...a drive-by shooting or something.

Oh yeah, and the GPS device was gone.

I don't want to say we were asking for it, but we really were, leaving the GPS in plain view like that. I later watched the surveillance tape from the garage. You see this skinny white guy going from car to car, peering in the windows. He's carrying a backpack for whatever goodies he can find.

He does his thing, and minutes later he's strolling out of the garage.

I hope his hand is broken, or as one of my friends suggested, maybe he bled out.

The good news is that we had actually purchased the supplemental insurance on the rental car, so we didn't have to pay for the window or the blood clean-up.

We had the car towed straight back to the rental agency free of charge too.

Anyway, that was quite an exciting finale to our trip up the coast. I'll have crime scene photos shortly, when Kate gets a chance to email them to me.

In the meantime, if you see a blood-stained Garmin GPS for sale on the streets of San Francisco (i.e. Craig's List), know that it was procured by ill-gotten means.

Top of the World - Kevin Garnett Championship Postgame Interview

2008-06-18T13:10:00.001-07:00

It's pretty rare to see raw emotion from a professional athlete. That's why it was so inspiring to see Kevin Garnett finally get his ring.

I have to admit, I got a little choked up when he gave a shout out to 'sota. Like every Minnesotan, we hated to see him leave but we all wanted him to win a championship and he was never going to do that as a Timberwolf.

And beating Kobe and the Lakers...it doesn't get much better than that.

Congratulations KG!

One side note, the reporter interviewing him is Michelle Tafoya, a native Minnesotan.

Gay Marriage and Police Pursuits...The news choices of Los Angeles editors

2008-06-17T00:34:00.000-07:00

Wedding bells were chiming all over California today as same-sex marriages became legal.

I've followed this story with minimal interest, which is to say I read enough headlines and lede sentences to get the drift of what was happening.

But I was surprised when I got home from work early today and flipped on the TV.

Every station was carrying live coverage of the civil ceremony between a lesbian couple which was about to take place outside Beverly Hills City Hall.

Not since Trista and Ryan has there been such a hullabaloo over a wedding.

It's definitely newsworthy, but hasn't this already happened in Massachusetts and San Francisco? Why do we need 30 minutes of live wedding coverage on every major network?

I don't even pay that close attention to the wedding ceremonies where I'm in the audience (kidding, J, J, and M!).

I had a sneaking suspicion that it was just another one of attorney Gloria Allred's clever publicity-grabbing ploys. She was standing right next to the couple and as usual was in every news station's shot.

But then I remembered that I am in Los Angeles, where TV news editors decide to follow police pursuits with a news helicopter and mercilessly hold viewers captive with live broadcasts for hours on end.

This is why I prefer to use the internet to gather my news. I choose what is important instead of some flashy TV journalist or stodgy newspaper editor deciding what's news for me.

A 30 second spot with some footage and voice over really would have been enough for me on the whole gay marriage thing today.

Instead I watched for a few minutes, got bored, and changed the channel to VH1. Rock of Love, anyone? Or maybe TilaTequila's Shot At Love would have been a better choice in light of today's event.

And don't get me started on CNN or FOX, with all those talking pundit heads just trying to fill up air space discussing what pantsuit Hillary wore for her concession speech or whether Michelle Obama once used the term "whitey" as a college undergrad.

I hate having people tell me what's important and basically monopolize my TV or my newspaper front page with stories I don't care about.

Most editors think the American public is a) lazy, and b) stupid, and c) therefore need to be told what to think about and learn about.

News consumers, unite and take back the power!

Phew, okay, done with my daily rant.

For the record, I am all for equal rights under the law for same-sex couples, and I would staunchly oppose any amendment that seeks to ban this type of freedom.

But there should be a law against broadcasting anyone's wedding ceremony on all major news stations.

The Spanking Show

2008-06-14T16:40:00.000-07:00

When concerts and cafes get old and trite, try a spanking show.

Apparently, nothing sets the mood more when on a date than a little softcore S&M.

I attended my first spanking show on Thursday when I went to Perversion, a goth club in Hollywood.

Last week was a number of firsts for me: first goth club, first fishnet stockings purchase, and yes, first spanking show.

For the most part, I am a wholesome Midwestern girl, but I like to think I have an open mind. So I'm not making any judgments here.

For those who've never been, a spanking show is just as its name suggests--one person getting spanked and slapped in all various means by another.

A woman wearing little more than black thongs and black pasties basically allows herself to be tied with rope to a large metal apparatus, while a leather-clad shirtless man with a black mohawk lightly whips her.

The man made a show of it too, twirling the ship in his hand like a baton. It was almost funny as he danced around, whip in hand. Club-goers lounging on red velvet couches demurely watch the spectacle.

It doesn't even feel like a show really. In fact, it almost seemed like an impromptu intimacy watched by a roomful of voyeurs. (although I'm sure the club arranges for these performers). There's no stage, no announcer, no beginning and end time to the show.

At one point the man paused from the whipping and turned to the audience to snarl, "Get the f*** out of my bedroom!" That got everyone laughing.

I didn't know what to think. I was shocked on one hand but not appalled. It's probably the same kind of wonderment you feel if you were to go to the Amazon jungle and watch natives eat the brain of the monkey.

It seems like every where you go in LA people are putting on a show. In this "me" crazed culture, Los Angeles is the center of narcisim and attention-grabbing antics--or could be if these people didn't think the universe revolved solely around themselves.

Anyway, a spanking show. Crossed off the list.

Me and Fishnets

2008-06-14T11:30:00.000-07:00

I bought my first pair of fishnet stockings this past week. And something happens when you put them on. Suddenly I was transformed from jeans and flip-flops Westside girl to gothic sex minx.

I've been seeing Al, an artist and video producer, for a little over a month now. A fan of Industrial music, he had been to a few goth clubs around L.A. On Thursday, we made plans to check out a goth club in Hollywood.

Admitedly, my knowledge of goth culture is rather limited: black lipstick, black leather and lace, silver buckles, black nail polish, heavy eye makeup, and of course, fishnet stockings.

Al doesn't dress goth or even look goth at all. He assured me that as long as I wore black I would be fine.

I went with a black skirt, black lace top, the fishnets (purchased from Victoria's Secret) and dark purple nail polish (which I figured would be close enough to black). Combat boots to top off the outfit would have been perfect, but I so don't own anything close to that, so I wore black heels instead.

The look was sort of slutty secretary more than goth chick, but Al didn't seem to mind.

My friends found it quite amusing that I was going to a goth club. Hey, I might not try everything once, but I will certainly go anywhere once. I looked at it as an anthropological field study. Probably the journalist in me, dying of curiousity.

So this club, aptly named Perversion, is right off of Hollywood Blvd. down a side street. The entrance is inconspicuous. The inside is dark, lit by artificial candles. Plush red velvet couches are tucked away in corners. In the middle is a dance floor. Upstairs is a lounge where the spanking show takes place. More on that later.

We grabbed a drink from the bar and walked around so I could get a lay of the land.

The people all seemed pretty normal. Everyone (except some fool in a red t-shirt) was dressed in black. The girls mostly wore fishnets (good call, me!) skimpy skirts, lingerie-like shirts. Some were walking around in black underwear.

The guys were all in black. The true gothic man will be tall and waifish, with a pale white face, black long hair, eye liner and black lipstick, maybe a trench coat. I only saw one guy who totally fit this image.

Up Next: the spanking show.

Philosophy by Nicole

2008-06-10T01:45:00.000-07:00

There are two types of people in this world: Excel or Word.

Does swimming in Excel spreadsheets make you happy, or are you captivated by the blank canvas of a Word document?

The answer, I believe, speaks volumes about your personality.

I have a personal preference for Word. No ruly cells to stay within, no stubborn forumulas to uh, formulate. Just me, my thoughts, and a blinking cursor.

I pound out letters on the keyboard to make sentences...numeric values just seem out of place. Kind of like me in a spreadshet.

That's not to say that I'm a dummy when it comes to Excel. In fact, I spend most of my waking working hours swimming along, cell to cell, populated value to populated value. I'm touching brain matter that hasn't had to function since 9th grade Algebra.

Suddenly I'm performing analytics, a necessary part of my job as Search Editor. And it's kinda fun. Easy, I said, "kinda."

Of course, the smartest people will say neither. They refuse to be classified in one realm or the other because they don't have to be.

It's all really just a classic sham to make more money for Bill Gates and Microsoft anyway.

Downtown...another country but you don't need your passport

2008-05-20T00:00:00.000-07:00

Downtown LA is seriously part of the contiguous United States? It's just not possible.

I went to the Fashion district in downtown two Saturdays ago to try to find a dress for my cousin Arash's wedding.

There are a lot of trashy stores with knock-offs, but there are also high-class wholesalers who sell dresses and evening gowns you can't find anywhere else.

It's for this reason that I don't mind taking my life into my hands and making the 15-mile trek down there. Yes, it's only 15 miles from my home, but it might as well be Varanasi, India.

The streets are crowded and dirty, traffic is abhorrent, nobody speaks English, and all the white people who do find themselves down there look bewildered and lost...kind of like accidental tourists.

All that was missing were cows in the street.

Most of the shops are owned by Persians or Asians. The shopkeepers to the very last one are rude and obnoxious. They complain about customers to your face and they don't care.

We had been recommended a particular store. After driving around for literally an hour, we finally found it. There was a line of women outside with their noses pressed against the glass windows peering in.

A Persian man with his shirt unbuttoned to his belly button and the collar sticking up was working the door like a bouncer.

"Alo, you have appointment? No? Then I cannot let you in. Saturday by appointment only!" he barked over and over again to the women desperate to get inside.

Two sexy women approached the door and after speaking with him for a moment he let them in. This pissed off an older frumpy woman who had exchanged words with the "bouncer" earlier.

"Alo, why you let them in?" she asked in a thick Persian accent. "We've been waiting here an hour...why you just--"

"Because she's pretty, I like her," the bouncer deadpanned. "This is my business. I own it. What is it to you?"

I swear, I felt like I was at a club on Sunset.

And can you imagine owning a retail store that was so successful, you could literally pick and choose who you allowed to shop there? Obscene is the only word for the whole fiasco.

On girl exited the store and apologized to her friends who were waiting.

"I'm so sorry they wouldn't let you in, but I did find a dress," she said. "I love it, but I didn't even want to buy it from them they were so rude in there. I really hate that I gave them my money, but I just had to get this dress."

OK, now I was bound and determined to get in this place. What's all the fuss? Are their frocks lined with gold and magical?

We decided to check out some less exclusive stores and come back a few hours later.

This time the line was pretty much gone and the 'bouncer' let us in.

What we found was wall to wall, ceiling to floor of dresses. Every color, size, style, cut, and thing you could imagine. We saw a dress that we recognized from Saks 5th Avenue that retailed for $1100. Here, it was listed at $500.

I actually found several dresses that I loved for under $200, but I only had time to try one on. The shop keepers were ready to close, and it was do or die.

I couldn't be forced to make a decision without more time to deliberate so we left without the dress.

Next time I'll make an appointment.

Wedding Bells

2008-05-19T23:34:00.001-07:00

We now turn our attention to Memorial Day weekend and my cousin Arash's wedding. His big day is Sunday. They are getting married at Magiano's at the The Grove.

That probably means nothing to you if you don't live in LA. Don't worry, I'll have pictures and a full report after the ceremony.

A few weeks ago Arash's bride had a henna party. It's a Middle Eastern tradition and is meant to ward off evil spirits before the wedding.

Indians do elaborate designs and pictures with the henna, while Middle Easterners basically take big globs of the staining substance and put it on their fingers and palms.

All the women have the coin handkerchiefs tied around their waists.

Each guest takes the bowl of henna and dances around the couple (yes, even I had to shake my hips as I approached the throne...luckily I had mixed my drinks strong).

Then you take a dab of henna and smear it on the couple's palms or forehead (see the picture at right). They wipe it off right away so it doesn't stain the skin.

It was a fun tradition. The wedding will be a modern Jewish affair, not sure how much of the Middle Eastern part they will incorporate, but it should be cool.

Birthday Beach Bonfire for the Big 3-0

2008-05-18T23:55:00.000-07:00

Ok, technically I'm still 29 for another three days, but I had my 30th birthday party on Saturday at Dockweiler Beach.

I had a great time and it was awesome that so many of the friends I've made here in LA were able to make it.

Myself and a few diehards got there earlier in the afternoon. It was a scorching hot day and I wanted to make sure we secured a fire pit.

Dockweiler definitely isn't one of the top beaches in LA: to the north is the airport, to the south is Long Beach port, and to the east is Inglewood.

But it is the only beach in LA with fire pits, so it attracts a rather diverse crowd. Kind of like me. :)

People trickled in throughout the day and almost everyone was there when we lit the fire around 6 p.m.

For dinner we had Persian kabob, rice, and Shirazi salad. Christine made a delicious lemon birthday cake, adorned with the letter "N". How sweet.

It was totally cool to just kick back and chill at the beach. I had a great time, and a big thank you to everyone who came!

Happy Birthday, dear Minnesota...

2008-05-12T02:04:00.000-07:00

My favorite state in the country is turning 150 today. Happy Birthday, Minnesota!

In honor of the Land of 10,000 Lakes, I thought I would make a list of all the things I miss about it.

The people -- seriously, have you ever met anyone nicer than a Minnesotan?

The lakes -- My waitress at a restaurant this weekend was from Minnesota. She's lived here in LA for 15 years, but says the same thing as me: 'one day I'll go back.' Her reason? She wants to live on the lake...this coming from a woman who currently lives a couple miles from the ocean. You can't beat a Minnesota lake.

The sports -- Twins, Vikings, Wild, and even the Timberwolves. I love 'em all, and there are no Minnesota bars here in LA.

The stores -- Three words: TAX FREE CLOTHING.

The weather -- I'm not kidding. I miss the change of seasons.

The sanity -- OK, I know Philips and Frogtown aren't exactly safe, but to my knowledge neither one are mentioned in any NWA rap song.

The traffic -- Your rush hour is a Wednesday afternoon at 1 p.m. here.

The grass -- Homes actually have yards...and green grass!

The thunderstorms -- It doesn't thunder here, we don't get a lot of lightning...so what's the fun of a storm?

The accent -- I'm tired of being the only person out here who calls soda "pop" and who rightly knows that "bag" is pronounced "BAYG".

Back to the Blog

2008-05-12T01:38:00.001-07:00

I don't really know why it's been two months since I've updated the blog. It's not that I've been sitting at home eating bon-bons and watching re-runs of I Love Lucy. A lot has happened.

You can probably just chalk it up to the fact that I'm a Gemini and very fickle. Blogging is about the last thing I've felt like doing for the past two months (along with mopping my kitchen floor...I finally hired a maid to come in and do that. I could have asked her to blog for me too, but then it would have all been in Spanish, and only Melissa could have understood it).

Anyway, here's a re-cap of Nicole, March-May.

1) I totaled my car. The new one should be arriving tomorrow.
2) I've taken trips to Minnesota, San Francisco, and San Diego.
3) Dating life has been fairly active.
4) Still working.

That's pretty much all you need to know. Now, I would brace oneself for an onslaught of posts. I finally feel like chronicling my life again.

Things Aren't Always How They Seem

2008-03-10T02:02:00.000-07:00

I went walking back in the Venice Canals this evening with a friend. It's such a peaceful place, hidden like an oasis of solitude amongst the loud, obnoxiousness of Venice Beach.

Anyway, we were walking along the quiet sidewalks of the canal when we heard a man singing and playing the guitar on one of the footbridges. He was strumming away, singing his heart out to a girl standing in front of him.

It felt like something out of a movie, and for a moment I wondered if we were witnessing a marriage proposal.

So we kept walking and as we got closer we saw what was going on. The girl was actually a camera woman and she was filming him, no doubt for some kind of video that would probably winde up on Youtube.

I had a good laugh.

This is what L.A. is all about, folks. You see something from a distance and it looks so shiny, and pretty, and heart-warming. Then you get closer and you see that it's all fake and facade. Kind of like plastic surgery.

Things aren't always what they seem and nowhere is this more true than in California.

That's part of what gives this city it's flavor, for better or worse.

"Strip Club in Vegas" Crossed Off the List

2008-02-28T01:22:00.000-08:00

I am one step closer to living a complete life. I did the strip club in Vegas this weekend.

Spearmint Rhino. At 4:30 in the afternoon. It doesn't get much classier than that.

I say that tongue in cheek, but this places really wasn't that bad. The only other strip club I've been to was in Minnesota and I've never seen so much vajayjay in my life.

This one at least wasn't full nudity.

Some women might object to these types of places. I looked at it as an Anthropological field study. You have to watch people, watch how they interact with one another, talk to them, learn their stories.

As I was doing all this I realized something very fascinating. Men, you are not in control at the strip club. That woman writhing on your lap is.

She's an actress and a saleswoman, selling you your fantasy. She works it, and next thing you know, you've dropped $500 on lap dances and strip teases.

Need more evidence? Two of my female friends went to the ATM to get cash at the strip club. She swiped her card and the machine tells her there is a $30 transaction fee.

Thirty dollars. Not $1.50, or even $4.99 like most casinos. 3-0. Dollars.

Of course she didn't pay it, but how many guys do you think hit the yes button without more than a second of hesitation? It could very easily say $300 and many guys would pay it to get that cash.

The girls at this place charged $20 for a one-song lap dance. Or you could pay $100 for three songs in the private room.

I don't know what other services were offered, but I do know that it's strange to watch guys you work with get lap dances.

As for me and the other girls, we stayed about an hour and had had enough. It got boring after awhile. Seen one, seen 'em all.

Thoughts on Vegas

2008-02-28T00:54:00.000-08:00

It's a dirty, dirty place, folks, and I like it.

A huge group of us from work went there this past weekend and partied like rock stars. I got about five hours of sleep the entire weekend. Damn, I am getting too old for that crap.

Everywhere you go in this mecca of sin and good times people are living in excess whether it's gambling, sex, drugs, alcohol, eating, or shopping.

It's hedonistic and full force debauchery. It's a fun place, but seriously, who could do more than a weekend in such an environment? I really don't know how people live there.

Friday night we partied at Studio 54 at the MGM Grand Hotel (that's where this photo is from). It was cool--we had a private dance area upstairs complete with bottle service. Very nice.

Saturday night was the big party. We had the ultra VIP room at Body English in the Hard Rock Hotel. No line, no cover, private bar, and full bottle service.

This VIP room has one-way windows so you can see out, but nobody can see in. A big burly bouncer stands outside of the door. I liked it, but honestly it's kind of like sitting in box seats at a baseball playoff game. You want to be part of the crowd and excitement in the masses.

After the club a few of us sat down to gamble. I got back to the hotel around 7 a.m. and slept for maybe two hours.

When I woke up I was ready to go home. As in now, immediately. I wanted nothing more than to take a shower, snap my fingers, and be back in the sanity of L.A. (an oxymoron, I know).

The four hour drive from Vegas going home to L.A. is always the longest ride in the world. I'd rather fly to China. But I made it, and have spent the last two days recovering.

Viva Las Vegas.

What Does Stomach Taste Like?

2008-02-18T22:41:00.000-08:00

The Chickpea will tell you...

Valentine's Day with Tony Danza

2008-02-14T23:06:00.000-08:00

I went to Taverna Tony's, a Greek restaurant in Malibu, for a birthday dinner on Valentine's Day. I found my friends sitting at the bar waiting for our table when I got there and who happened to be sitting right beside them?

Tony Danza, of Who's the Boss? late '80s fame.

I know that's not exactly a cool celebrity sighting, but it gives me the opportunity to say, "Valentine's Day with Tony Danza."

Alas, there was no sign of Judith Light, or her crazy TV mom Mona.

I never spot celebrities on my own, but Tony Danza is hard to miss. It's not his appearance, but his distinctive Italian-American voice.

I kept expecting him to blurt out with, "Hey-oh, Angela...."

Does anyone remember if Tony and Angela ever ended up getting together in that show? If I had had my wits about me, I would have asked Tony tonight...or at least told him to go clean something.

Who's the Boss, now?

Climbing the Pyramid at Coba

2008-02-11T23:48:00.000-08:00

A definite highlight of the trip was our visit to Coba. At one time this ancient Mayan city was home to 40,000 people. The jungle landscape is dotted with ruins that are all connected by Pre-Columbian roads the Mayans built.

The really cool part is that unlike Tulum or Chichen Itza, you can climb on many of the ruins at Coba. Standing at about 150 feet, the pyramid is the second highest known Mayan structure (the tallest is Tikal in Guatemala).

This is a view looking down from the top.

It was hot the morning we went to Coba. I decided to two step it up the pyramid. Reminded me of doing the Santa Monica stairs off of Fourth and San Vicente. Suffice it to say I was winded by the time I reached the top.

I wish I could say that I felt the presence of Mayan gods and spirits at the summit, but quite honestly all I was thinking about was that I should have bought a water before I made the hike up.

There were several people at the top and nowhere to really go for quiet reflection. I admired the view of the jungle for a few moments and then started the descent.

Back from Mexico

2008-02-09T17:31:00.000-08:00

How can you go wrong with sun, sand, snorkeling, and cerveza?

Plus, Jami's wedding was really special--a traditional Mayan ceremony on the beach complete with banging drums, maracas, and a shaman who blew a conch shell.

And you can never have too much conch shell in my book. More conch shell!! Or was that cow bell?

The picture above was taken at Tulum beach, a place I last left my footprints on 12 years ago when I was a senior in high school. Pretty amazing that I was able to return there with two of my best friends from high school who were also on that band trip.

(Insert "one time, at band camp" joke here).

This beach was very European-friendly. See the lady in the right side of the photo who is about to sit down? She was sans bikini top moments after this picture was taken.

In fact, the whole beach was a mine field of middle-aged topless women.

Anyway we spent most of our time in Akumal, a beautiful cove of sanitized Mexico, where the streets are paved and clean, the drinks are cold, English is readily spoken, US dollars are readily taken, the toilets flush, and there are more gringos than Mexicans.

I loved our accommodations--rented houses right on the beach. I went to bed each night to the lullaby of the Caribbean Sea. Another highlight was professional massages on the beach, and professional mango Margaritas at the bar. And don't forget satellite TV so we could watch the Super Bowl in English.

Not my usual sort of vacation at all, but it was a blast.

Up next, how dos cervezas and the stomach of a Grouper almost made me miss my plane home, and what it's like to climb a Mayan pyramid.

P.S. Confidential to J Boo...last count was veinte-tres--that airport ride was a doozy.

Next up: Mexico

2008-01-30T00:48:00.000-08:00

Only two more days 'til I take the show (and by show, I mean myself) south of the border to Mexico.

I'm thinking I will take my laptop with me so I can write at will. Hopefully the house we're staying at has internet access.

If I do bring the laptop, I'll be trying to post at least once or twice, so check back. If not, I'll be returning Feb. 6 and will hopefully have some good stories to report.

A Mammoth Weekend

2008-01-26T01:14:00.000-08:00

I think the Sierra Mountains--specifically Mammoth Mountain--has had enough of me.

I was up there again this past weekend. Second time in three weeks.

The 30-year-old founder of my company had invited a few people from work to go up to this ski village five hours north east of Los Angeles.

He has an amazing condo just steps from the mountain gondola, and a staff that will cater to your every need.

I got the IM invitation at 3 p.m. on Friday, and by 8 p.m. I was on my way to a weekend of awesome skiing, drinking wine in the rooftop hot tub with nothing but the stars above us, an amazing gourmet meal at Whitebark restaurant, karyoke, and plush accommodations.

But, as I said, this mountain had had enough of me.

I took a nasty spill the first day skiing and landed hard on my left shoulder. I couldn't really raise my arm that night, but I didn't take the hint. The next day I decided I needed to go skiing again and that I'd just "be really careful and not fall."

That plan worked for most of the day. But by 3 p.m. I was tired and hungry. The photo above was taken at the top of what would be my last run of the day.

About two minutes into my run I cut left and skidded on a windblown patch of ice. Next thing I knew I was looking up the mountain and going down backwards.

As it was all happening, a crystalizing thought ran through my mind: "This is not going to end well."

My left ski snapped off and sure enough, I went down directly onto my injured shoulder.

And that's when I knew I was done skiing for the weekend.

When a doctor looked at it later, I was so relieved to learn there was no torn muscle-just a minor shoulder separation.

OK, ok, Mountain 2, Nicole 0. But just you wait, Mammoth. I'll be back.

A New Dating Tactic

2008-01-15T22:40:00.000-08:00

For those keeping score at home, I have a new dent in my car. That's a new dent, not to be mistaken with the already-existing rear bumper dent, the broken side mirror, the duct taped turn signal reflectors, the keyed body paint damage, and the side scuff.

It happened on my way to work yesterday when my foot slipped off the break pedal on the 10. (nobody seems to know what I'm talking about when I say my foot slipped off the pedal. has this never happened to anyone else??) Anyway ,I rear-ended the car in front of me, a Land Rover.

So the two of us pull over, and out of the Land Rover pops this extremely handsome man, about my age or a little older. He was tan with sandy brown hair, a nice smile, wearing jeans, a black jacket, and sun glasses. And so nice!

But I didn't really notice at first. I was too preoccupied with the damages.

His car didn't have even a scratch. Mine, on the other hand, now has a dimple in the hood front and center. I kept apologizing, and he just smiled the whole time and told me not to worry about.

I was already late for work (what's new) so I was anxious to go. It was about the time that I buckled my seat belt and pulled away that it dawned on me how cute that guy was.

Maybe I should have rammed him again and this time, be sure to dent his car so we'd have to exchange information? That would be one way to get a date in this town.

Why is this girl so happy?

2008-01-13T20:52:00.000-08:00

The Chickpea will tell you...

Burt's Bees and Clorox

2008-01-08T22:55:00.000-08:00

The folks who designed the packaging of Burt's Bees beauty products weren't making shit up. Check out the real-life Burt's Bees founder Burt Shavitz, and his likeness on his line of products.

Uncanny, isn't it?

What you probably didn't know was that Mr. Shavitz lives in a 20'x 12' turkey coop somewhere in the Maine wilderness. Somehow that little detail is missing from the product packaging.

Not that it matters to me. I love Burt's Bees products, which are made from natural ingredients like bee's wax, eucalyptus, thistle, and all kinds of other organic products currently en vogue.

So imagine my dismay when I found out after reading a NY Times article that Clorox now owns Burt's Bees. What's more is that good old hugable Burt was basically bamboozled into selling his share of the company to his former lover and business partner for a paltry $130,000 house.

Burt missed his turkey coop so much, he sold the house after a few months to move back into the coop.

Meanwhile his former lover turned around and sold the company to Clorox for something like $300 million.

Check out of the whole sordid article, "Can Burt's Bees Turn Clorox Green?"

AND...did you know that Tom's of Maine (the natural toothpaste I rave about) is 80% owned by Colgate-Palmolive?

It's like finding out Santa Clause and the Tooth Fairy don't exist.

Hillary Wins!

2008-01-08T20:46:00.000-08:00

"I listened to you. And in the process, I found my own voice."

That's going to be the lead in every news story about the New Hampshire caucus tomorrow (Wednesday morning).

Yesterday it looked like Hillary's campaign was all but over. Barrack Obama thrashed her in Iowa and was predicted to do the same in New Hampshire.
But somehow the pundits and polls got it wrong.

Hillary pulled off a major upset over Obama and lived to fight another day.

It's pretty incredible that 90 years ago women couldn't vote in this country, and tonight, a woman took one step closer towards winning her party's nomination for president of the United States.

The talking heads are already, um, talking about how she did it. Was it the uncharacteristic display of emotion she exhibited during a coffee roundtable discussion with a dozen New Hampshire women? Was that even real?

I think we've all seen the clip--tears welling up in her eyes, voice slightly wavering as she answers the question from a 62-year old New Hampshire woman: how do you do it.

The Clinton campaign has no doubt been carefully planned and staged, but I don't know how anyone watching her at that moment can see anything other than a raw genuineness. It was a moment of honest expression, that perhaps came out because of exhaustion..a fighter's last gasp.

It worked. It resonated with people, I think.

And whoever wrote her acceptance speech was brilliant.

"I listened to you," she told voters. "And in the process, I found my own voice."

The New York Times is saying that women are shaping this campaign. Female support helped Hillary win New Hampshire. And in South Carolina, it is said that black females will decide the outcome in that all-important caucus. Will they vote by race or gender?

I love election years!

Happy Belated New Year

2008-01-08T01:38:00.000-08:00

I was up at Mammoth to ring in 2008 for a long ski weekend. The weather was great, the crowd was great, and the skiing was awesome.

I snapped the above shot in Mammoth village, which strangely counts down and celebrates the New Year at 9 pm PST, when the ball is dropping in New York. We got there around 8 pm, which was plenty of time for Osama Bin Laden (see picture below) to serve us some Vodka'd up Hot Chocloates (or as we called them, "Ho Cho".)

They launched small town fireworks at the stroke of nine. It's nice because then you can go back to your lodge and celebrate again at midnight, which we all did with a PG-13 rated game of strip poker.

I think it's going to become a New Year's Eve tradition.

One of my favorite things about going back to MN

2008-01-08T01:22:00.000-08:00

Men wearing Twins baseball caps to bars. I absolutely love it. Melts my heart.

The irony here is that when I lived there I thought it was really tacky.

The guy in the picture was sitting behind us. The more I drank, the more I became enamored with the back of his head and his backwards Twins cap. This was probably baseball cap photo number four or five.

To be honest, I don't even remember what the guy looked like. But I do remember announcing to my friends that I was feeling a strong urge to tell him just how cool I thought it was that he was wearing a Twins cap. So I tapped him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me," I slurred. "I'm from California and I just want to tell you I love the fact you're wearing a Twins hat. It warms my heart."

He smiled the biggest smile and reached over and shook my hand. My friends later told me that his girlfriend was glaring at me the whole time.

She was probably from Wisconsin.

2008-01-04T02:42:00.000-08:00

For the first time in about six years I got to go ice fishing. My brother and I went to Lake George one day, pushing his portable fish house about 1/4 a mile off of shore.

It was fun, just me and him. We only caught a few, and they were pitifully small. But it was like old times.

Yes, that's the fish I caught--not the bait--in the picture above.

The morning after Christmas we headed up past Cambridge to Rush Lake. The crappies were biting there. So Nate, Mollie, three of Nate's friends, and I punched some holes in the ice and dropped down.

We had a bite before the lure had even settled. Unless you've fished, it's a thrill I can't explain to feel a tug on your line. I get so excited I jerk up on the pole and usually pull the hook right out of the fish's mouth.

After a couple hours we had caught and kept 41 crappies altogether.

We were using Vexilar radars to help us find where the fish were. They happened to be about three feet off of bottom. You drop down the ice hole, and the Vexilar, which picks up shapes and movement in the water, shows you where the activity is.

We only had two of these gadgets so we had to share. Towards the end of the day, I wasn't using one. I dropped down and sort of guessed where the fish would be and sure enough I caught one. I overheard my brother tell his buddies, who were fishing several feet away, "look at my sister. she's catching 'em even without the Vexie."

Later that night, Nate and I took them down to my dad's house that evening and fried them up in a beer batter for dinner.

Snow, Snow, Snow

2008-01-04T02:31:00.000-08:00

This is what I woke up to my first morning in Minnesota

And this is what I went to sleep to that night

It snowed every day I was in Minnesota, and the temperature was a balmy 20-25 degrees. I loved it...for five days...but I don't think I could handle it for five months.

Oh Yes It's Ladies Night

2008-01-04T01:55:00.000-08:00

It can be sad when an aging great tries to reclaim past glories by stepping back into the scenes of their youth.

Think of all the pathetic athletes you've seen who play the game way too long--(although these days a good helping of 'roids is all you need to stay at an eternal 23...just ask Roger Clemens).

Well I didn't have my syringe with me last Friday, but when we decided to do downtown Minneapolis like the "good ol' days" six years ago I think we kept up pretty good.

Nevermind that one of us has a baby, and two of us are engaged. I'm the only one who technically still has a license to party.

Anyway, we walked into The Loop, a Minneapolis hotspot now totally off the radar for any of us. Jessica's brother who works there, set us up with a reserved table and $100 for the bar tab.

At first we sat in rather subdued silence, almost as if we were anthropologists observing an aboriginal tribe. Some field notes:

A trio of young women hold hands as they weave their way to the bathroom (that was us six years ago)
Couples freaking on the dance floor (that would be me in two hours)
A rather astoundingly favorable guy-girl ratio.

"Where were all these guys six years ago when we were down here?" Jami asked.

In junior high,no doubt.

Once there was enough alcohol in our systems we stepped out on the dance floor. The funny thing is that it was exactly the same music--I'm not saying the same genre--I mean literally the same stupid songs.

"Biggie, biggie, biggie, can't you see...sometimes your moves just hypnotize me..."

It felt like the land that time forgot.

Back in those days, we were all on a man mission. This time we were just out for fun. So when I felt somebody siddle up behind me, I didn't care, as long as he could dance. And I figured as long as I didn't turn around, he could be any age I wanted him to be--instead of the more likely 23.

So it was good times, and just like back then, we closed the place down at 2 a.m.

Yes, I like the think the downtown Minneapolis legends of yesteryear showed these kids a thing or two.

Chickpea Project

2007-11-18T12:34:00.001-08:00

I've created a new project for myself that combines two of my greatest loves in life:

Writing

and,

Food.

It's my new blog called, Chickpea to Cook. Bookmark it and visit often.

I'm going to write about all of my culinary adventures, whether in my kitchen, the market, or the restaurant.

There will be plenty of pictures too. I've already embarrassed a number of my friends by pulling out a camera mid-dinner. Luckily I bought the pocket-size Canon SD850.

Anyway, it should be fun. Feel free to leave comments and suggestions about your favorite eats.

Oh, and what's with the name, "Chickpea to Cook"? I swiped it from my favorite Rumi poem. Click on Who is the Chickpea to read it.

An Update

2007-11-18T12:16:00.000-08:00

I've been neglecting my blog for most of this fall, but I'm hoping to start up again with at least a once a week post.

So to catch you all up, here's what's been going on.

First, Shahar and I broke up about a month ago. I guess you could say it was mutual (isn't that what everyone says?). We both hoped we could remain friends, and I think we will, but I needed some time away so we haven't really talked since the break up.

I've been on a date or two since then, but honestly it feels kind of weird. And too soon.

I met this guy at the Wilshire (a restaurant/bar near my apartment). He asked me out even though I had told him that I had broken up with my bf four days before.

He looked about 35, so I was shocked when he said he was 40. And....here's the best part....he's a psychiatrist. When he called, or rather texted, I thought what the hell, I'll get back on the saddle. And maybe I'll get free anti-depressants out of the deal. (kidding!)

So we went to this romantic Italian restaurant in Brentwood. It was nice, but in the end I'm glad it didn't work out. A tad too old for me and I just didn't like the idea of telling people, "I'm seeing a psychiatrist."

LA is a dating mine field. I don't feel there's any shortage of single men my age who are on the prowl. But finding one who is serious and genuine and down-to-eath and not LA-ified...now that's a trick.

Now I can't promise that I'll be divulging all my dating habits on this blog, but I'll let you know if anyone special, or 'evening news crazy' comes along.

What's in Solvang besides Clogs?

2007-09-17T00:32:00.000-07:00

I really couldn't tell you because for the two hours I spent in this picturesque Danish-inspired village, I was in the Solvang Shoe Store.

Buying $110 clogs.

I know what you're thinking...I don't seem like a clogs kind of girl. You would be right. I, too, never felt that my wardrobe was lacking because I didn't own a pair of clogs.

At least not until Saturday when I found myself in fucking Solvang.

It's such a cutesy place, where every building looks like a gingerbread house, with windmills and shit all over. Something happens to you there. You start to realize that you don't own nearly enough Scandinavian products. (IKEA doesn't count).

So there we were in Solvang Shoe Store, tearing it up. The poor sales girl who helped us...when we finally walked out, I think I saw tears of relief well up in her eyes. Here's a sampling of the clogs my cousin Orit and I tried on.

It took forever to find a pair that fit right that I liked. After a lengthy deliberation both my cousin and I walked out with a pair. Mine are black leather with a holed pattern cut into one side. Orit's are white with bright red flowers painted on them.

Will I wear mine? You bet your ass. Will they be my style? Only time will tell. I'll report back after the first wearing.

Where were you?

2007-09-11T00:28:00.000-07:00

Six years ago...From the moment those planes crashed into the World Trade Center, Pentagon, and Pennsylvania field we would never be the same.

Where were you?

I was working as a city reporter for a newspaper in Elk River, Minn. at the time--barely a year out of college.

I remember that Tuesday morning was beautiful and sunny. At about 9 am I was driving to work listening to B96 radio station when I heard the news: two planes had crashed into the World Trade Center and another plane was unaccounted for and flying somewhere over Pennsylvania.

I knew immediately it was terrorism and the first person I called was my dad to see if he had heard the news.

Tuesdays were always a hectic morning because it was the day we put our little weekly to press.

At about 10:30 am my editor's phone rang.

The caller was a man who used to work at the newspaper as a journalist before he quit and became a priest. He was in New York City that day and had called to give us a local connection to the tragic events.

My editor said it was an eerie feeling to see what was happening on TV and then to actually hear the chaos of sirens and screams in the background of his telephone call as he interviewed the priest/journalist who was not far from Ground Zero.

It was just before press time, so my editor quickly threw a story together based on what the caller had reported.

It might sound strange, but I would have given anything to be in Manhattan on that day to help record these historic events.

I felt like I had to do something, anything, to be a part of this unfolding story.

I went to the local schools to see how they were handling the events. I called the Elk River mayor, the police chief, and other city officials to get their comments. I even talked to people from the Red Cross. It was too early, but in the days to come people would come by the droves to donate blood.

The local connections were weak at best, but it was all I could do.

Later we found out that just hours after the attacks, federal agents were at the county jail in Elk River taking custody of an inmate housed there. That inmate: Zacharias Moussaui, the alleged 20th hijacker.

For weeks to come those horrific events were all we talked about, and all we wrote about in the newspaper.

Sept. 11, 2001. I'll never forget that day.

Dispatches from the Edge

2007-09-05T00:24:00.000-07:00

I just finished reading Anderson Cooper's memoir, Dispatches from the Edge. I really couldn't put it down.

He was one of my inspirations when I graduated college and became a print journalist.

I've always admired Anderson Cooper--I remember him from 9th grade when we used to watch Channel One news program to start our school day. He was the 25-year-old correspondent who went to the coolest, most dangerous places.

Of course, now he's a famous, world-renowned TV journalist with CNN. He covered the Indian Ocean Tsunami, Iraq, and Hurricane Katrina--and that was just in a nine-month time span.

I never experienced the level of intensity that he chased on all of his stories, but I definitely related to some of what he talks about in his book.

That feeling of adrenaline that courses through your body when you're in the middle of action--it's like he says, a natural high. I remember covering the California wildfires for three weeks one summer. Going behind the fire lines as other people were fleeing, helicopters roaring overhead, all around you the earth is scorched and smoking and the fire can double back at you at any moment.

Or talking to someone who has just been through a nightmare--the violent death of a loved one, the destruction of a home, or perhaps a harrowing story of their own survival.

When a complete stranger opens their heart and pours it into you, you just have to let it bleed onto the paper and hope you can capture just a fraction of that emotion in the story you write.

That delicate part of themselves that they shared will nestle under your breastbone and you can't get rid of it if you tried. I remember their names, their faces, their homes if they let me in, and the emotions.

Most of the time I thrived off of the tragedy of life I witnessed just about everyday.

After awhile I realized that I could take these intense feelings from complete strangers, have them share their emotions and never have to give anything of myself.

It started to feel kind of like a one-night stand. Many of these people I interviewed felt so close to me afterwards, but it wasn't like I was going to remain a part of their lives. I was an interested listener, and maybe that's what many of them needed at the time.

Sometimes it did become too much. And towards the end I was starting to become a little jaded. That wasn't good.

But I always considered it a great honor to tell other people's stories. And I think that's the message Anderson leaves readers with as well.

It isn't often I have sympathy for Republicans...

2007-09-04T23:24:00.000-07:00

but I gotta tell you, somewhere deep in my heart, I feel pity for Senator Larry Craig, R-Idaho.

He's the ultra-conservative U.S. senator who got caught allegedly soliciting sex in a men's restroom at the Minneapolis airport. Turns out the guy he was hitting on was an plainclothes police officer. Ooops.

Soliciting sex in a public bathroom is an interesting concept--and is clearly a topic deserving of its own entire blog entry--so I won't go there now.

What I do want to say is that I feel sympathy for anyone who has as tormented a soul as Senator Larry Craig. Here we have a 62-year-old man who is married and repeatedly votes against gay rights, but yet apparently likes hooking up with unknown men for homosexual "toilet trysts".

Larry, you're gay.

Rumors about his sexual orientation have been swirling around long before this incident--his hometown newspaper was even investigating gay rumors before this scandal.

How painful and repressing must it be to live a life denying who you really are? Sexuality is at the core of our identity.

I'm sure this whole situation has been excruciatingly embarrassing for Craig and his family. But I suspect that this man has been suffering his entire life with deeply conflicting feelings.

This incident might ruin his career, but if it helps bring him inner peace and acceptance, than maybe it's a blessing in disguise.

Everybody likes Beisbol

2007-08-12T22:39:00.001-07:00

I love going to baseball games in Los Angeles for the simple reason that the baseball crowd is so un-LA in many ways. People are nicer, happy, and more down-to-earth.

As Benicio del Toro says in the movie Traffic: "Everybody likes beisbol."

The Minnesota Twins were in town this weekend playing the Anaheim Angels, so Shahar and I went down to see them Saturday night. This was his first baseball game ever.

After horrendously misjudging how long it would take us to get to Anaheim, we showed up at Angels stadium an hour after the game started only to find out it was sold out. And not a scalper in site.

Dear reader, don't think that this deterred me. Oh yes, we were going to get in to this ball game. We did not drive an hour and a half in gridlock to Orange County only to be turned away at the gate.

In the words of my former boss, "I'm Nicole fucking Jacob. Watch me."

So I started asking other fans who were just arriving (hmm, maybe these people are a little LA if they are showing up to an event an hour after it starts) if they had extra tickets. The second guy I asked had extras and he gave them to us for free! Score.

He didn't even seem to care that I was wearing a shirt that said, "Minnesota Twins".

Actually nobody cared. I would say 25% of the crowd was MN fans.

By the time we took our seats it was the 5th inning. The Twins were ahead 1-0. We got there in time to see them blow the lead in the 8th inning and lose the game.

As we walked out of the stadium and I exchanged grimmaces with other fans who were sporting Minnesota clothing.

Shahar seemed to like his first baseball experience. I know he would have gotten bored if we had arrived on time, so seeing half the game seemed to work out perfectly.

How punctuality kept me off the bridge collapse

2007-08-03T10:22:00.001-07:00

I was back in Minnesota earlier this week for a visit. On Wednesday evening, I was traveling down I-35W shortly before 6 p.m. to get to my dad's house in Edina.

I had told him I would be at his house around 6 p.m., which everyone knows really means 6:20-6:30 in my 'always late' world.

But this time, I was not late. I had dropped my mom off in Roseville so she could meet up with my stepdad. The two of the them were going to a show later that night in Minneapolis, so I was on their schedule.

So at about 5:40 p.m. the wheels of my car were carrying me onto the I-35W bridge and over the Mississippi River.

Twenty minutes later, that bridge was no longer standing and dozens of cars and lives were in the river or buried under concrete.

When I got to my dad's house--right on time and not my usual 20 minutes late--nothing was out of the ordinary. Then my brother's girlfriend's phone started ringing and she answered it when she saw it was her dad.

"The 35W bridge just collapsed!" she said.

We turned on the news. By this time it was about 6:30 p.m. and helicopter images showed us what had happened. It took a minute for me to realize this was the bridge that I had just crossed over minutes before to get to my dad's house.

Then I thought of my mom.

I tried calling her cell phone and there was no answer. A feeling of dread sunk in.

They were behind me, and usually they stop to grab something to eat before going to their concerts in Minneapolis. They could have easily been on the bridge when it collapsed.

I can only imagine this is what people in New York felt like on 9/11 and they knew family members were in the vicinity of the attacks. The waiting, the anxiety, the worry...

Thankfully, I only had to experience that feeling for minutes because my mom called shortly thereafter. They were at a restaurant in Minneapolis and had heard the news. When she saw three missed calls on her cell phone from my grandma, my dad, and my brother, she was worried that I was on the bridge.

I mourn for the Minnesota families whose loved ones did not come home that day. But it also reminded me how lucky I am to have such wonderful family and friends around me.

Later that night when I arrived in Los Angeles, I took a cab home and struck up a conversation with my driver. This cabbie had survived close calls in Vietnam and a horrendous car crash that broke dozens of bones in his body.

"If it ain't your time, it doesn't matter what happens," he said. "It ain't your time."

Being punctual doesn't hurt either.

The Presidential Candidate Debates...sponsored by YouTube

2007-07-25T17:53:00.000-07:00

I mean, really.

For those who don't know, CNN and You Tube joined forces to put a twist on the latest Democratic presidential candidate debates. You Tube users could post video questions for the candidates. The video clips were shown and then the candidates responded.

It's actually a very cool idea, and many of the questions were quite good.

But it's such a blatant corporate plug. They might as well say, "The 2008 Presidential Election....brought to you by You Tube" which everyone knows is owned by Google.

And don't say I didn't warn you multiple times, people, but Google is taking over the world. Which incidentally is fine with me, as long as George Bush is no longer president.

Anyway, back to the debates. I watched a good portion of the latest debate. And let's just be honest, but who the hell cares about Christopher Dodd, Dennis Kucinich, Joe Biden, etc.?

Hillary vs. Barrack. End of story. Sure, maybe throw John Edwards in there too. His accent is kind of cute. But these other candidates are just taking up air space.

And for the record, I'd like to announce my endorsement for Hillary Clinton as Democratic candidate for president. It was a tough choice between her and Barrack, but overall I think Hillary has the right experience for the office.

And I'm not gonna lie. It's high time we had a woman president.

What I've been doing with my time off

2007-07-25T17:26:00.000-07:00

So it's been a week officially since my summer sabbatical began. At first it felt really weird--so many changes in my daily routine--but what can I say....I'm quite adaptable.

There is one thing I need to get off my chest however. It really pisses me off that I cannot for the life of me sleep past 9 a.m. I guess it's good in a way, but it makes me feel old. Remember during summer vacation as a teen-ager you would sleep until noon or later, and then be up all night? Well, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've come to the realization that I'm not a teen-ager anymore.

So usually, I am out of bed and dressed around 9:30, I go for a walk (another old fart activity), and then see where the day unfolds.

Yesterday I took my new surf board to the beach and battered my body in the ocean. Today I rode my bike to the Santa Monica Farmer's Market and let some vendor talk me into buying different species of grapefruit. Stopped by my cousin Orit's place for afternoon coffee, then hooked up with my friend Ashley to play tennis.

Now it was as I was sipping my coffee in the sunshine on Orit's balcony that I realized I could get used to the life of the unemployed. Of course, I do want to go back to work, and I am excited about my new job, but I just need to slowly...indulge...and bask....and luxuriate...in my new-found freedom.

L.A. really is the best place in the world to be unemployed because you never feel like the only one not working. The coffee shops are full on any given week day at 2 p.m., there's always people at the beach, and at the Promenade.

And you'll always have at least one friend who is also between jobs. It's a sweet life.

Travel Update

2007-07-17T22:38:00.000-07:00

It looks like Europe is out of the picture for now. Flying at peak travel season is never a good idea. Just to give you a frame of reference, a ticket to Australia is cheaper than a ticket to Madrid.

So that got me thinking. There is so much of this country that I haven't even seen. Maybe a domestic road trip would be fun.

Traveler's something or other

2007-07-11T01:37:00.000-07:00

In an ideal world, I would have a job in between trips, instead of taking a trip in between jobs.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I quit my job on Tuesday. I will finish up, and then have a few weeks before I start my new position.

Look out Europe, here I come!

Now, most of you who know me are probably saying, 'this bitch likes to go to third world countries and get food poisoning or be attacked by wild monkeys when she travels. What's with Europe?"

It just feels like Europe time. Shahar is going to be in Israel, so he came up with the idea of us meeting in Spain or maybe Portugal.

But here's where it gets really interesting.

My passport has expired. I'm planning to leave in about two weeks. It's taking about 10 weeks to get a passport processed.

Which means I'll have to do an extra-special expedite. So after calling about a thousand times and getting a busy signal, I got lucky and got an appointment at the So. Cal. Regional Passport Agency, which just happens to be five minutes from my house. The earliest appointment? Friday, July 20. My travel plans? Tuesday, July 24.

Think I can get a passport in-hand in what amounts to 48 hours?

Oh yeah, and did I mention that I will be trying to purchase a plane ticket using my frequent flyer miles? So my destination in Europe might be based on what flights are available for frequent flyers.

I hear Krakow, Poland is lovely this time of year.

Stay tuned as my travel document drama unfolds...

As Free As...

2007-07-11T01:19:00.000-07:00

Big news from earlier today....I QUIT MY JOB!

It doesn't matter how much you like your job, when you turn in that letter of resignation it's the closest most of us will ever come to understanding the concept of LIBERATION.

It reminds me of something that I witnessed this past weekend. I was standing in line to get into the Edison, a trendy bar in downtown LA, and there was this homeless man asking those in line for spare change.

"This is my boss right here," the beggar said, pointing to the bouncer.

The guy behind me started laughing. "Are you kidding, man?" he said to the homeless dude. "You're the only free man here."

He couldn't have been more right.

Now I'm not saying that I'll soon join the ranks of the homeless. I'll be starting a new job in August, but until then I am as free as....a homeless man on L.A.'s skid row?

It's a Chopper, Baby

2007-07-05T23:23:00.000-07:00

They call these things "choppers" but to me they look like over-sized tricycles. We rented them on Venice Beach yesterday for the Fourth of July.

Personally, I think they call them choppers so that guys don't lose a piece of their masculinity when their girlfriends cajole them into renting one.

Anyway, it was a good time, cruising down the Venice Boardwalk on our tricyc...er....excuse me, choppers.

Around dusk time we met up with a few friends on the beach for a little picnic and fireworks display. It was great--yummy food, and three bottles of wine.

But unfortunately, we didn't properly plan our fireworks locale. The closest display was partially obstructed by buildings, and the Palisades one was way off in the distance.

The locals lit of illegal fireworks, and this is where it got scary. Darkness, sand, and whistles and explosions are going off all around us...all that was missing was the rumble of a tank and the rat-tat-tat of an M-16 rifle and I would have sworn we were in Baghdad.

Incoming!

State Fair on 'Shrooms

2007-07-05T22:02:00.000-07:00

Given that last Saturday was Shahar's birthday, I let him pick whatever he wanted to do to celebrate (for those of you reading for gratuitous sex and salacious gossip, sorry to disappoint, but this is a family blog).

But for those of you who like to hear about drug binges and all-night raves, read on!

Yes, we went to a rave. The 11th annual Electric Daisy Carnival to be exact, which was held at the Coliseum in downtown L.A. from 4 p.m. to 4 a.m.

We were easily among the oldest and most sober people there. Most of the crowd was 17-24 and stoned out of their minds. They all had these glow sticks they waved in each other's faces.

Check out this kid in the picture below.
"Why hello, ladies. Let me fascinate you with my magic wands."

There were also kids walking around with surgical masks on their faces. I found out later that when you're rolling on Ecstacy, you're so sensitive to touch that even your own breath feels amazing, hence the surgical masks.

These are our modern day hippies. There must have been about 50,000 people who came to watch electronica/house music artists perform on five different stages.

If you got bored of the repetitious music, you could go eat fair food like hot dog on a stick, or go on any number of rides like the scrambler, swings, tower of power, or slide.

I'm telling you, it was the State Fair on 'shrooms.

Very different from other concerts I've been to where there's always some rowdy fans who had a little too much to drink and start fights. This whole outdoor park was one big happy love-in. Everyone was smiling and having fun, and polite!

When Shahar first told me he wanted to go to this event in order to see this Israeli band called Infected Mushroom, I have to admit my response was a little bit less than enthusiastic.

But two factors persuaded me to go: 1) it was his birthday, and 2) I have one year left of my 20's and I've never been to a rave before.

So it was actually a lot of fun, and by the way, Infected Mushroom? Fucking awesome.

The B is Back

2007-07-02T02:40:00.000-07:00

I know it's been a few weeks since I've written, and it's not that I have a lack to say. Because, oh, do I have a lot to say...

But it seems when my personal life (which by the way, could include love, work, or family, or any combination thereof) gets crazy with drama, I tend to duck out of the "public internet eye".

There's a great Farsi saying that goes, "Deevar moosh daray. Moosh ham goosh daray." Which roughly translates to, "You never know who is reading your blog."

So anyway, I am back in the blogosphere now.

Free Paris

2007-06-10T01:50:00.001-07:00

I've been trying to refrain from commenting on the Paris Hilton jail saga all week, but I can't keep my mouth closed any longer:

LET THE GIRL OUT OF JAIL.

Two reasons for why I feel this way, one based on emotion, the other based on credible, cold-hard logic:

1) my younger brother went through almost the exact same situation last year (minus the paparazzi). For 'normal', law-abiding families, it's like experiencing a tragedy no one is expecting--a very scary nightmare you can't wake up from for both the person serving and their family.

I can't describe the feeling of powerlessness watching a good person you love lose their freedom and be taken away from you. I know exactly what her parents and siblings are going through right now.

Now for the real reason:

2) In LA County, if you are convicted of a NON-VIOLENT crime, you can bet the bank that you will only be serving 10% of your sentence due to overcrowding/understaffing in the jail system.

I've interviewed Sheriff Lee Baca and his spokesman Steve Whitmore on this subject MANY, MANY times when I was a cops reporter here in LA County. If you are sentenced to 40 days in the slammer, like Paris was, you will be out after only serving four days.

So there was no celebrity justice being doled out in her early release. In my opinion, it was business as usual for the LA County Sheriff's Department.

Why doesn't the judge and the prosecutors summon every inmate released early from jail? They acted surprised that Paris was released, when this very thing happens every day, has been well-documented and reported on for at least three years.

I don't like the fact that non-violent offenders don't serve the time they are sentenced and I personally know it really pisses off the judges and prosecutors to see people they send away back on the streets in a matter of days.

So they seized this highly-publicized opportunity to make a stand. Paris is a victim of her own celebrity in this case--she's actually being treated WORSE than any other regular citizen, and that is why she gains my sympathy vote.

Pass the Kimchi

2007-06-07T16:30:00.000-07:00

I'm putting Koreatown on my "must-visit" list for LA tourists.

See your Hollywood Walk of Stars and Rodeo Drive, but in the middle of all that, take a slight detour to Koreatown. Go have dinner at the first hole in the wall restaurant you see and let the fun ensue.

I've been many, many times and although I have my favorites, I like to try new places each time I go.

The dingier the better--and only once have I had an awful digestive experience.

Those who have been to Koreatown might be asking how you can possibly choose from all the tiny restaurants on every corner. Well, in my opinion, you've gotta go with the one that has the best name.

For example, last night Shahar and I wandered into "Toe Bang".

Now I'm not sure what that means in Korean (a little help James?), but in English it obviously isn't the most alluring of names. What can I say, I live for cheap thrills.

In a lot of these places, the menu is totally in Korean, and none of the waitresses speak English. You find yourself either pointing at pictures of the food, or asking a table of Koreans to translate and recommend. If you're lucky, one of them will speak half-ass English.

That's how you make international friends, I guess.

And nothing pleases the Koreans more (as noted in Loughrie Does Korea) than seeing foreigners heartily eat their cuisine.

"Thank you for loving our Korean food," one waitress with an enormous smile said to us on our way out of one Korean BBQ.

Indeed.

Idiot of the Week

2007-05-31T17:42:00.000-07:00

This award is definitely going to 31-year-old Andrew Speaker, an Atlanta attorney who knowingly exposed hundreds of people on international flights to a very contagious, drug-resistant strain of tuberculosis.

I don't want to sound like a Doomsdayer, but this is totally how the human race is going to end one day. All it takes is one infected idiot who happens to have a plane ticket, and that's it.

The Center for Disease Control--which is pretty much tasked with helping our population avoid massive epidemics--warned him to stay put after he was diagnosed with TB.

But Speaker was planning to get married in Europe in mid-May and made the trip anyway. He later told journalists that health authorities never explicitly barred him from leaving the country and that they only said they "preferred" he stay home in the Atlanta area.

Speaker told the Atlanta Journal-Constitution that despite warnings not to board another flight, he flew home from Rome anyway, fearing he wouldn't survive if he didn't reach the U.S.

So you expose hundreds of world-travelers to this deadly disease?

There were 480 people on one of his flights alone, likely from every corner of the globe. By this time, the disease could have spread to countless cities and villages across all continents.

Anyway, I hope he recovers and won't be responsible for a world epidemic. It just goes to show that level of education is not a substitute for common sense and smarts.

Brit Milah at Tiffany's

2007-05-29T17:08:00.000-07:00

My cousin's baby had his brit milah (male circumcision) ceremony yesterday.

Poor little guy. That's gotta hurt.

This age-old ritual is a joyous occasion for everyone involved, except the baby, who screams his head off.

But for those who have never been to a brit, it's kind of a like a little wedding.

Sweets, photographers, people dressed up, moms and dads crying, and at the end somebody ends up naked. There's also a certificate, then food and presents. All that's missing is a pre-nup.

Anyway, it's the presents that I want to talk about. Maybe these are my humble Minnesota roots showing, but does anyone else find it obscenely extravagant to buy the baby toys from Tiffany's?

I'm not kidding, turquoise bag after turquoise bag was opened: silver rattles, silver teethers, silver spoons, etc.

This is a picture of one of the rattles. Can you imagine a small baby playing with such an object...you know how they're always banging themselves in the face with things...we're talking blunt force trauma to the head, and next thing you know you've got Child and Family Services knocking on your door.

Anyway, I understand the concept of keepsakes, but $160 for a teether the size of a paper weight? Now that's obscene.

Out to Sea

2007-05-23T17:08:00.000-07:00

Last year on my birthday I went to Chaya Venice and dined on Red Snapper...this year I caught one.

My birthday was yesterday and Shahar took me deep sea fishing off the California coast. It was really fun--a beautiful, blue-sky day--out in the middle of the ocean.

We caught Grouper, Sea Bass, Red Snapper, Melinda, and some other types I don't know. The best part is that you could keep whatever you caught, so we went home with tons of fish and cooked a few filets for dinner. DELICIOUS.

I grew up fishing the lakes of Minnesota with my grandpa, so after moving out here I always wanted to try ocean fishing.

My first observation was the depth of water: we were in about 180 feet. Do you know how long it takes to reel up a fish that lurks at 180 feet? By the time the fish surfaces, both you and it are exhausted. Fortunately, I get to walk away and live another day. The fish...well, I'll enjoy him with lemon and a nice glass of Chablis.

The second thing I noticed is that these ocean fish are UGLY. Here's a picture of the Red Snapper I caught (my first ocean catch). All bug-eyed...how can something so ugly taste so good?

In Minnesota, the prettier the fish, the better it tastes. See the following equations: sunfish and walleye=beautiful=delicious. Dogfish and Bullhead=ugly=disgusting. You know what you're getting just by looking at the fish. Not so in the ocean, apparently.

Ocean fishing was a great experience and it definitely made for a memorable birthday.

Strawberry Pizza Forever

2007-05-21T17:00:00.001-07:00

It's strawberry season in Southern California so yesterday my cousin and I traipsed up to Oxnard for the annual Strawberry Festival.

Before I go on, let's get one thing out of the way: Community Festivals SUCK.

And I feel quite qualified to offer my opinion on that subject. For two and a half bloody years, I worked Saturdays for a community newspaper where the editors loved to lavish coverage on every po-dunk festival that came to their attention.

There were Almond Festivals, and Cherry Festivals, and Fall Festivals and 49er Days, and Juneteenth Celebrations. I attended each and every one, every goddamned year I was there. Oh, and lest I forget to mention the parades which always accompanied these festivals. I had to cover those fuckers too.

And I realized that if you've been to one community festival, you've been to them all. Follow the clogged traffic, park a mile away from the gates, pay an admission fee (sometimes, but not always), eat corn on the cob and french fries, walk past the vendor booths selling arts and crafts, and listen to a shitty cover band.

I knew all of this and yet I willingly went to the Strawberry Festival yesterday. I ate strawberry pizza, drank a strawberry smoothie, and after about 45 minutes, I ran screaming for the exit, past the ladies selling embroidered shirts and homemade soap, and the cover band wailing an awful Bon Jovi song.

Once safely in the car, I said a quick 'thank you' prayer that I no longer worked for a newspaper that covered such events and secretly laughed inside at whoever is working Saturdays there now.

Luckily, the day was not a total waste. On the way back, we decided to stop at a U-Pick strawberry farm and hand-picked six baskets worth of strawberries.

Suffice it to say, I'm done with strawberries for awhile.

Downtown Renaissance

2007-05-16T15:18:00.000-07:00

You get lazy living in Los Angeles. When a friend is having a party 10 miles outside of your neighborhood it seems too far to drive. That's because with this L.A. traffic, 10 miles can literally be an hour's commute.

But then you get bored...staying in your own neighborhood, that is. Same bars and restaurants, same people...snobs in flip-flops. So I've been making more of an effort the past few months to get out of the Westside.

And it's funny because these efforts always pay off.

Last Friday, some friends and I made our way to downtown L.A., a place known for its fine array of hookers and sidewalk homeless encampments. Downtown is 15 miles--or basically an entire world--away from my Santa Monica apartment.

City planners are doing their damnest to clean up downtown and its reputation. Abandoned brick warehouses are being converted into sparkling yuppie lofts. They even took the old Electric Company building, gutted it, and converted it into a cool retro club called The Edison.

We ended up there on Friday. It's pretty strange to see a velvet-rope club entrance flanked by door men in three-piece suits, when one block down the street a homeless man is passed out in his blue tarp tent on the sidewalk.

Well, in any case, the place is cool. You enter, go down three flights of stairs into this huge open area. Feels like you're partying in a factory...they even have cascading rows of old-fashioned light bulbs. The place smells like leather and brick.

Every hour or so burlesque dancers costumed in 1920s garb take the stage and perform. It's probably the best club I've ever been to in L.A. Who knows, maybe in another 10 years they'll transform the Kenneth Hahn County Government Building into a new club as well.

What's missing from movies today?

2007-05-09T10:13:00.000-07:00

I feel like I've become jaded when it comes to movies. I can't stand Hollywood blockbusters like Spider-Man 3, or Pirates of the Caribbean. Everything seems so formulatic and well, "produced."

The clever movies like Memento, The Sixth Sense, and Pulp Fiction are few and far between.

That's why I am still talking about a movie Shahar and I watched last week. It's a 90-minute French thriller called "13 Tzameti" and its impact will stay with you.

It's better if you don't know anything about it when you sit down to watch. I definitely wouldn't have watched it if I had known the premise. But that makes it all the better. The idea behind the movie is so riveting, it doesn't need great dialogue, sex, or pretty people--in fact the whole thing is shot in black and white.

That's what is missing from movies today--great, unique ideas that can hold their own without a $350-million budget.

Mama Said Knock You Out

2007-05-07T18:20:00.000-07:00

I watched the big fight Saturday night at my old roommate John's apartment. I miss living with John sometimes, and not just because he has the coolest toys and gadgets. Everybody likes John--he's a cool, laid-back guy.

But back to his toys...he has a 72-inch Sony HDTV and a killer sound system. He should charge admission--it's almost as good as a movie theater.

Anyway, despite the high-level acoustics and screen resolution, the fight between Oscar de la Hoya and Floyd Mayweather was kind of boring. How exciting can a boxing match between two 150-pound guys get? Nobody got knocked out, nobody even got knocked down.

As an aside, I was once on a parole sweep as a newspaper reporter in which Oscar's troubled half-brother, who lives in the Antelope Valley, got arrested for violating parole.

The cops were asking him if he ever gets tickets to go see Oscar's fights.

"Na, man," he said. "I was in jail for the last one."

Poor guy. He was kind of dirty and unkempt. I wonder if he can fight like his brother when he's in jail.

Back to my viewing experience Saturday night. The best part was picking out the celebrities in the first three rows of seats: Sen. John McCain, Jennifer "my fans call me J-Lo" Lopez and Marc Anthony, 50 Cent, etc. etc.

There was also some chick sitting in the third row who was on her cell phone for at least half of the match. If I was sitting next to her, we would have had our own little boxing match right there in the third row. Seriously, how rude and obnoxious is that?

Well, boxing isn't exactly a sophisticated sport anyway. Which is probably why Queen Elizabeth who's over here visiting, decided to go to the Kentucky Derby on Saturday instead of the MGM Grand for the big fight.

America's Most Disgusting Man

2007-05-01T14:51:00.000-07:00

This is Mr. Joe "Girls Gone Wild" Francis--the mastermind behind all those soft-core porn videos of drunk college girls getting wild on spring break.

I don't think this guy is repulsive because he peddles porn--that's not my issue. I think he's disgusting because of the way he treats women and his smug attitude while doing it.

Add to that the fact that he is a 33-year-old man preying upon barely legal (and sometimes not legal) teenage girls. Grow up, man. You should have been done with spring break 10 years ago.

Don't see what I mean? Read this amazing article written by LA Times writer Claire Hoffman, who hung out with Francis for an entire day and night. You'll see just how loony and dangerous he is. I hate the fact that he lives in my city--Santa Monica--we could even be neighbors.

Strike that...he used to live in Santa Monica. Right now he's in a Florida jail on tax evasion charges. He's also recently been charged with some sex-related felonies and could face years in prison. Reports say he's having a nervous breakdown behind bars. He might be gone from Santa Monica for a long time....

Which leads me to a closing question: Is it possible to be a porn-peddler and NOT be slimy? I try to keep an open mind on these things, but it just seems that the two are mutually inexclusive. If one produces and sells porn is it just an innate fact that one will also be a revolting human being?

Joshua Tree

2007-05-01T14:34:00.000-07:00

Sorry it's been awhile since my last post. I've been incredibly busy...and by busy, of course I mean lazy.

Actually it has been a chaotic couple of weeks with lots of stuff going on. The highlight would have to be a weekend trip to Joshua Tree National Park and Palm Springs (I'll try to post pictures tonight).

S. and I went offroading in the park on broken, unpaved desert trails that required four-wheel drive. It was amazing. We really had the whole part of that park to ourselves, lurching over boulders, gazing at the bizarre Joshua trees, squeaking through narrow Berdoo Canyon.

I had gone offroading once before, but it was a completely different experience. I was covering a story for the newspaper about this offroading club who finally got permission to play with their monster trucks in a muddy open field. The only way to write it was to do it, so I met up with them one Saturday.

Those offroad guys were really cool, despite the fact that they had Confederate flags on the backs of their jackets or on their trucks. I rode in one of their trucks, with the windows all the way down so the mud and muck could fly in. By the end, my notepad, my hair, and my clothes, were a muddy mess.

That was fun, but the trip to Joshua Tree was even better because we weren't just spinning out our tires in a field...we were bossing through a national park. He did most of the driving (he bought his Toyota 4-Runner exactly because he likes to offroad...apparently it's big in Israel) but I also got to drive for a little bit.

I think he was holding his breath as I drove, but we emerged from the park without a scratch on his car. When do we get to go again?

Ask and ye shall receive

2007-04-10T18:22:00.000-07:00

UPDATE: Moments after posting my last entry my Google ads changed and now reference turtles. Guess Jesus decided to take his ball and go home.

Ad(non)Sense

2007-04-10T18:12:00.000-07:00

Has anyone checked out the Adsense ads that Google is deciding to place on my blog? Actually, I know the answer to that is a resounding NO, since I have yet to receive any clicks on them.

So take a look, over on the right, just below my "Friends in the Blogosphere" list. At the time of this writing, the ads read, "Deployed to war in Iraq?" "Blood of My Brother - DVD" "Mission Accomplished" and.....my personal favorite....."Jesus Christ Loves You".

That's right.

I thought it would be an interesting experiment to put Adsense on my blog to see what ads Google would decide to place on good ol' Chasing Dragonflies. For those who don't know, Google summarizes the content of your site and selects what it determines to be relevant ads.

Sure, I've sounded off about the war on Iraq a few times, but what's up with that? I've also talked about Harry Potter, the Persian New Year, turtle racing, great-grandma, and oh so much more. I don't see nary an ad referencing any of these posts.

And I don't ever recall brining Jesus into the equation. Where did he come from?

Never point at a Turtle

2007-04-09T14:41:00.000-07:00

You know how they say it's bad etiquette to speak in someone's backstroke in golf? Well, apparently it's also bad form to point at a turtle race.

Allow me to explain.

Last Thursday S. and I went to this Irish bar in Marina del Rey called Brennan's. We were in the mood for some excitement, and really, what could be more exciting than a turtle race?

Brennan's is one of those rare L.A. bars where you don't feel like you're in L.A. It's dark and dingy with a bad cover band, and they serve your beer in plastic cups.

Oh, and did I mention they host weekly turtle races in their back patio?

There were maybe 150 people crowded back there to watch the races. For $6 you can actually rent one of the Painted turtles and if your turtle wins you get a prize. Last week's prizes included a home pregnancy test kit, a Scary Spice action figure, and other equally tantalizing trophies.

The turtles are put in an enclosed circle in the center of a ring (kind of looks like a wrestling mat). When the enclosure is lifted, the turtles scurry and the first one to get out of the ring is the winner.

Now there aren't many rules, but there is one important one and that is once the race starts no spectators can point at the turtles. They repeated this rule, along with visual aids, at least 10 times.

If somebody points they stop the race, embarrass that person and make them pony up $10. A second offense is $20 and the third offense is $50.

Sounds like a good way for the bar to make some money off of drunk people.

Anyway the first race starts and not five seconds into it, some white trash lady points. So they stop the race and collect from her. Meanwhile I'm thinking to myself, "What dumb ass forgets the rule and points? What an idiot." Actually, I think I said that out loud.

So the race starts again. And it's high drama. The turtles start to scurry and then the lead turtle inexplicably stops short of the finish line. A late-starter catches up just as the other one starts to move again. Who's going to win?

In my excitement I throw my hand outward and point at the ring. Oh shit! I'm not supposed to do that! I wheel around and bury my head in S's shoulder. I'm so embarrassed! And he's laughing at me.

The officials blow the whistle and stop the race. They come over to my area and I brace myself.

"OK, I saw you and you pointing, fellas," the official says to two guys who were standing a couple feet away from me. "$10 each."

Somehow I had escaped detection. So the races continued and I wish I could say that brush with danger helped me mind the rule, but a few races later I found myself pointing again.

Again the officials didn't see me and busted some other poor slob.

S. made me hold his beer glass for the rest of the races with both hands.

It was a fun night all in all. But if you're an idiot like me, I just recommend two-fist drinking during the races to avoid the pointing penalty.

I Can't Wait

2007-03-28T18:09:00.000-07:00

So they've released the book cover for the seventh and final novel in the Harry Potter series. It's beautifully done, in my opinion, but I have to admit a bias.

The illustrator, Mary GrandPre, was educated at the Minneapolis College of Art and Design, and I am proudly biased towards anyone from my homestate.

Prince? I know he's a freak, but he's a Minnesotan first. Bob Dylan? I don't like his music much, but how can you not love a guy from the Iron Range? Who else? Josh Hartnett, Vince Vaughn, Judy Garland, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Charlie Brown (or at least his creator, Charles Schulz), and Jesse Ventura.....eh, forget that last one.

Anyway, the new Harry Potter book comes out July 21. I'm not saying I'll be one of those people waiting in line, but hey, if I happen to be at a Borders at 11:59 p.m. on July 20th, I might just stick around...

A Word of Caution...

2007-03-26T16:09:00.000-07:00

DO NOT go see "I Think I Love My Wife".

I don't care how bored you are or much you think you're in the mood for a light-hearted comedy. Just put your $11 back in your pocket and go buy a fancy yo-yo or something else instead.

I saw it Friday night. Easily the worst movie I've seen in the last five years. Chris Rock isn't funny anymore. How very sad for his career.

The Trouble With Mom visiting....

2007-03-19T17:56:00.000-07:00

...is that I eat like a Grizzly bear about to go into hibernation. She comes into town along with my pseudo-stepdad Jerry, and I end up being plied with food and wine at every turn.

We go to the tastiest restaurants, order 3 courses, and don't forget the pre-dinner drink, the wine to go with dinner, and the coffee and dessert afterwards. In between restaurants, maybe they'll do a little sightseeing, all the while being mindful of what to eat for the next meal.

They left this morning so I am back to foraging for my own food.

My First Char Shanbeh Suri

2007-03-15T11:31:00.000-07:00

I had a great time Tuesday night jumping flames on the beach with about 1000 other Iranians.

There was music, food, laughter, and of course, an Iranian-style disregard for any form of authority. Maybe it's the American half of me, but I'm thinking it's a little strange that the lifeguards and police had no idea that this massive gathering was going to occur. They showed up halfway into the event scratching their heads and asking what was going on.

None of the event organizers thought to tell anybody in charge? How very Persian.

Anyway, I was as excited as a 5-year old child who's just old enough to really understand and participate in Christmas and Santa Clause. My cousin stood at the end of the fire with a camera ready as I leaped over the flames, grinning ear to ear. I must have run through the line about 6 or 7 times just for the fun of it.

Most of the flames were contained in big pits up and down the beach but someone decided to build a line of small fires on the sand so people could leap over them. Well, when the police came they doused the fires outside of the pits.

I talked to an LAPD officer who said, "We're just trying to figure out what exactly is going on down here. We heard all this noise and saw all these people. Do you know what this is?"

It's an ancient ritual that goes back thousands of years, when Iran was inhabited by Zorastrians who worshipped fire. The last Tuesday before the New Year, which always falls on the first day of Spring, people leap over flames to take on the energy and vitality of fire and leave sickness and bad tidings to burn in the flames.

And also in Persian style, there was a DJ, a makeshiftdance floor in the middle of the sand, and some guy who showed up with coolers and homemade sandwiches. He was selling them for $5 a piece. I was half-expecting to see a carpet salesman hawking his wares too, but I didn't. Maybe he came later.

By the end of the night, we all reaked of smoke and campfire. But for me there was no place better than being at the edge of the Pacific Ocean under the stars, feeling the cool sand squish between my feet as we participated in an ancient tradition that still has meaning today.

Char Shanbeh Suri

2007-03-13T17:15:00.000-07:00

Tonight I'm going to my first ever char shanbeh suri celebration in honor of the upcoming Iranian New Year. On the last Tuesday before the New Year, Iranians everywhere light bonfires and jump over the flames. It's supposed to give you the vitality and health of fire and allow you to leave sickness and bad things behind.

The Iranians in Tehrangeles organize the festival every year at neighborhood beaches. The largest gathering is in Orange County--too far to drive so we're going to Dockweiler Beach by LAX.

I hope flip-flops will be appropriate flame-jumping apparel. Also I'm bummed I forgot the marshmallows.

I'll try to write a post and get some pictures up tomorrow.

Great-Grandma

2007-03-09T12:57:00.000-08:00

I wish the circumstances of my visit home this week were happier...and I also wish that if great-grandma had to pass away this year, why couldn't it have been in June?

Kidding aside, I am very glad I made the trip. It was important to me to pay respects to such an amazing woman who has been the matriarch of my family for my entire life.

Ethel Wallace was 102 years old when she passed away and when you think about everything she saw in her lifetime it's staggering: the invention of automobiles and planes, the sinking of the Titanic, 17 presidents, two World Wars, and if you count Iraq, two Vietnams.

They mentioned at her funeral that she had 7 children, 27 grandchildren, 55 great-grandchildren, and 33 great-great grandchildren. That's quite a legacy. And the crazy thing is she remembered all of our birthdays.

I remember getting cards from her every single year. She knew I liked poetry so she always sent me prayer booklets with Christian prose. Of course the religious aspect of it fell on deaf ears for me, but I always appreciated her thought. As the years passed her perfect cursive loops and slashes became wobbly and uneven. She could barely hold a pen anymore but like clockwork the cards came every year.

She was a soft-spoken woman who you sometimes had to strain to hear. Her mind was more sharp than most 20-year-olds. She kept up on current events. During quiz competitions at her nursing home, she always beat other contestants in a landslide.

She was ready to go when the time came. The last time I saw her awake and conscious was this past summer. I was home for a visit and like always, I went to see her for a few hours. I unknowingly came at the exact time of the weekly devotionals, and grandma never misssed a church service, so I joined her in the front row.

She had told me several times that she was ready whenever God wanted to take her, and this time she seemed more than ready. Life wasn't fun anymore, and I think she figured she had put in more than enough time. Her religious faith sustained her and I think she was excited to go to Jesus.

I don't really have much religious faith myself, but I do believe in the afterlife, and I know that just as grandma kept track of us all during her life, she'll be watching over us from up above.

Two feet of Snow and Ice and Not a Ski Slope in Sight

2007-03-09T12:49:00.000-08:00

I must be home.

Minnesota Bound

2007-03-06T16:37:00.000-08:00

I'm making a surprise return to Minnesota this week. My great-grandma passed away Monday morning, so I'm taking a red-eye flight and will be back for the funeral on Thursday. I'll be in town until late Saturday, so for anyone who's going to be around back home, let's talk...

A look back on February

2007-03-01T02:11:00.000-08:00

My Miami trip was two weeks ago, and I'm thinking it's too late to post anything about it. The moment has passed. So for the countless readers who have been waiting on pins and needles, I hate to break promises, but...oh well.

Anyway, as we usher in March, let me just reflect on February for a moment.

For being the shortest month of the year, I certainly did my best to pack as much action in as possible. There was, among other activites, the trip to Miami, another skiing jaunt, a Roaring '20s Murder Mystery birthday party, and perhaps the greatest adventure of all, the furnishing of an apartment.

Yes, my new place finally looks and feels like home and I am loving it. I've never had to furnish an apartment from top to bottom (my roommate didn't have anything either) and the whole process has been quite a growing experience for me.

There is always some anxiety attached when I accumulate things. That might sound strange, but buying a bed was a big deal for me. It means there's some permanancy behind all this. Same thing with a kitchen table...it's like, oh I actually live here. These are my things and if I decide to leave, it's going to be a bitch to move all this stuff.

I guess you could say I'm a minimalist. But it does feel good to make a home your own, no matter how long you call it home for.

Back from Miami

2007-02-15T11:40:00.000-08:00

I just got back from Miami yesterday--I'll be posting a few stories/pictures in the next couple days including a quest for food in Little Havana, what to do when it rains in South Beach, and how to handle 12 21-year-old sailors partying at a club.

Super Superbowl Weekend

2007-02-06T15:23:00.000-08:00

...mostly because I watched the big game on a 70-inch Sony TV, complete with a top-of the-line sound system. I think it was probably better than being in the stadium.

It was hard to know who to root for: I find the entire Manning family completely annoying and pompous, but I like Tony Dungy. And I never really found a compelling reason to care about the Bears.

I'm all about the backstory. Give me a heart-warming tale of a competitor battling against all odds to win a championship, and that's who I'll cheer for. I don't care if it's the Superbowl or the Scripps National Spelling Bee. I need that backstory and I feel like it was kind of lacking this year.

So I was content to sit in a warm living room with about 30 other people, eating chips and salsa, laughing at the commercials and congratulating my friend on his mammoth home theater purchase. The game was just an afterthought.