And It’s All Ghetto!

We chose this apartment by process of elimination. As in: we eliminated the possibility of living anywhere else located between his office and my office, because its all ghetto!

Don’t get me wrong, I love this neighborhood. People cut and water their grass, sweep their porches, decorate for holidays, the whole nine yards. The few blocks surrounding us are all very pleasant, you know: houses, trees, sidewalks, warehouses, railroad cars, houses, trees, sidewalks… Oh, wait! See, that’s the thing. Its an industrial town. Every few blocks there’s the remnants of what used to be a familiar chain super market, ice-cream shop, video rental store. There aren’t enough residents in this town to support the familiar favorites that you can find in a half-mile radius in other suburbs. This is the last Los Angeles suburb that only has ONE “Fourbucks” coffee joint within the city limits. Not that I’m a fan of “Fourbucks,” but come on! Fourbucks is everywhere, why not here?

Where does a 20-something newlywed meet her girlfriends for a chat in this town? The local cocktail bar with the Grandpamobiles parked out front? I think the secret handshake involves a Pompadour comb-over!

There’s a high school down the street, we could smoke cigarettes and be melancholy behind the gym… except that I don’t smoke!

Like, we could like so totally go hang out at the mall in the next town, that would be like so totally righteous… but I like stopped saying “like” like six times in a sentence when I was like eleven years old. That’s like so like 1987.

Chinese food? Sure, we got that, its the restaurant with the big blue B on the front window! Not the kind of place you take a friend!

There is one thing that this town does right, and that is Mexican restaurants.

So: Who wants to meet me down the street for a hot cup of taquitos?

Dear Moron

Dear Moron,

I noticed that last night, you indulged in a great deal of recreational vandalism. While I admire the perseverance you displayed while trying to break into my car, I have a couple of suggestions to help you be more successful in your career of nonviolent crime:

I believe I am qualified to speak on this subject because I had to call the Auto Club to come and unlock my car FIVE times in the last 6 months. I’ve seen the professionals break into my car enough times that I could rig a tool and break into my car in ONE try, all by my girly self.

Three separate professionals who know all of the effective ways to break into a car have dubbed you a Moron All three of the professionals who examined your handy-work have separately exclaimedMoron! They didn’t even do it right!”

From the artistic reshaping you have done to the doors of my sedan, it is apparent that you made three separate attempts to get Bessy to uncross her legs. Its also apparent that you study under the criminal masterminds behind the UPN and FOX television networks. In real life, if you are targeting the make of car that I own, a crowbar and screw driver are not the tools of choice.

It appears that you were interested in gaining access to the cabin of my sedan. I’m not sure why you would do this, as the vehicle I own is by no means a Pimp-Mobile. I drive an economy car with low-technology gadgets like a single-disk stock cd player and a cassette deck. It would be much more worth your while to swipe a new, boxed, mid-range CD player from WalMart.

If you had taken the time to look in the window, you would have seen said cassette deck. As a matter of fact, there was nothing else in the car accept a bag of pine cones flocked with artificial snow. If its really that important to you, you can have the stinking bag of pine cones, but it would have been a lot less stressful for you to just walk down to the end of the block and pick some up off of the ground.

There appears to be a direct correlation between your timing, and the start of the retail holiday season. I understand that the sounds of the season are enough to make anyone want to pick up a crowbar. On my lunch break this afternoon; I was forced to endure the sound of Amy Grant screeching Jingle-Bell Rock. Believe me, I was looking for my crowbar too! I couldn't find my crowbar, so I will spend the rest of the season shopping online from my home.

I would advise you to put your crowbar to better use next time. Instead of going after pine cones and cassette players, use the crowbar to poke a hole in the hood of a car. Open the hood and steal a radiator or a carburetor, or an alternator. The aftermarket price on these and other €œators is much higher than the aftermarket price of pine cones flocked with artificial snow. Besides, I have 74,000 miles on my car, its probably time for me to buy a replacement for one of these €œators anyway.

In addition to your Artwork d Crowbar, I want to thank you for the Artwork d Fingerprint that you left on both doors. I'm so glad that I happened to have my car washed the night before you visited: the only prints on my car are yours and mine. Your swirls and loops were beautiful and clear underneath the fingerprinting powder this morning. The cars you've broken into are a dime-a-dozen, I'm sure, but I'm so glad that I have one of your official autographed masterpieces on file at the local police department.

Sincerely,

ekd

IKEA Teapots

It only took a month, but I’m officially out of my old rental. On the way to turn in my keys, I had to stop at IKEA to return a dozen teapots that we didn’t end up using. Who goes to IKEA at 8:30 on a Monday night? Who? Who? Who?

I could not belive that the parking lot was full when I got there. Wanna know who goes to IKEA at 8:30 pm on a weeknight?

3 middle-aged Asian couples returning half-assembled livingroom furniture.
1 college-aged female pouring ketchup on a half-scarfed 50 cent IKEA brand hotdog.
1 lost old man walking aimlessly around a huge elevator with a very consterned look of consternation shown on his brow.
2 couples with kids who should have been in bed an hour ago.
20 unimpassioned employees
1 very tired newlywed.

If you pay cash, they refund in cash. Sweet!

Moving Madness: Winter In California ~ Seasonal Change ~ No Such Thing!

Moving Madness!

Its the hap-happiest season of all!

Ian will tell you how he misses having an actual “fall” with leaves changing into beautiful colors. He’ll tell you how much he doesn’t miss shoveling a driveway or scraping ice from a windshield. There’s a Canadian joke that the two seasons are “winter” and “construction” because of all the cold, wet weather. In 2003 it was really odd for him to decorate my mother’s Christmas tree with the sun shining on green grass outside the window.

Ian jokes about what we Californians call “winter” out here in the desert. He mocks me for shivering when its 72 degrees. On a nostalgic day he’ll tell me he misses having real seasons.

But we do have real seasons!!
We have Rose Parade season in January to taunt all the Eastcoasters.
We have April Shower season.
We have Fire season
and the bestest season of them all started today!

The Santa Ana Winds are here! Warm toasty dry highdesert winds barrel through the mountain passes to make the whole world wonderful! Every year the Santa Anas blow the smog and the ugly out of Los Angeles. You know all those L.A. postcardswith blue skys? They’re not fake! Its just that every photographer in the state takes pictures of L.A. the day after the Santa Anas arrive! The happy winds make a special trip through the valley I grew up in and blow away all the leaves that have to be raked during the rest of the year. For a few months every year the valley that Motabcalls the Armpit of California gets a much needed pressure washing and is blessed with clean, fabulous, toasty, summer beach weather.

I walk around like a freak with my nose to the sky inhaling every second of this glorious weather. I even asked my supervisor if I could move my desk outside for the rest of the month. Thats a no. Maybe my dear husband will let me sleep on the stairwell outside the apartment 0:-).