Tag Archives: Los Angeles

Random Notes and Photos Related to Past Posts

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The front page of today’s L.A Times includes a section and articles under the heading, “The Future of Reading.”

http://www.latimes.com/business/la-fiw-0718-reading-20100718,0,2712081.story

Here’s an L.A. Times link with a podcast discussion of books and how they are evolving thanks to technology.

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/readers/2010/07/future-of-reading-publishing-ereader.html

I include these links because of my recent post on the iPad. There is a lot of discussion going on right now regarding how technology will evolve the book, and whether eReaders will kill the physical book itself. Books have been around 100’s of years and have outlasted many past claims of their death. Yet, it’s exciting to witness this latest major transformation. My daughter may miss most of it because she may not remember what it was like before books transformed into digital files, though she’ll see plenty of reminders in the house.

Here are some random photos I’ve taken related to past posts.

Blind Pig on a Stick

This pink pig sits on a pole in Topanga Canyon. It must have been the figure head for a business at some point, though no business remains, or I missed it if it does. Now the pig stands guard as an oddity and mystery of old Topanga.

Fly little pig, fly

I decided to free the pig from its painful perch atop the pole. Thank you, Photoshop. I hope the lucky pig finds a new home now that it can fly away.

McDairy Queen or McDonalds?

When I saw the banner for smoothies at McDonald’s I almost crashed my car. I have yet to find out the ingredients and caloric count of these, but I suspect a plot of some kind. Healthy smoothies at McDonalds? Hmm, why am I suspicious?

Perhaps I am suspicious because “McDonald’s” isn’t printed on any of the advertising. Check out their web page and you’ll notice the use of “McDonald’s” is downplayed. “McCafe” appears more often. Interesting. Name change in the works?

Why do I feel like ordering a Frappe?

I believe subliminal advertising works. I’m not sure if this qualifies as subliminal, but it’s either brilliant marketing or overkill. How can you get through the line without noticing these on a conscious or unconscious level? The drinks look more tempting than anything else you might eat in your day. Let’s just eat desert all day long. No wonder my daughter wants treats all the time – the world works her over with tasty images of high caloric treats. Who can resist?

That’s it for today.

Stay well.

Work Dinner at Benihana

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I hope I can catch the shrimp in my mouth this time

Is there a name for that phobia?

I fear hibachi-style restaurants.

A few years ago, at a fake Benihana in the southern United States, the chef, who was showing off his mad skills with a spatula and shrimp, forever killed my love of sitting in front of a hot flaming grill while eating.

My work pals lied that it was my birthday, laughing as if they were the first group to ever pull this prank. So, I had to sit there sporting a paper idiot-hat while they sang Happy Birthday and toasted me. Happy, happy, joy, joy.

And, as I was the faux birthday boy, the chef had the genius idea to toss me a shrimp to catch in my mouth. Unfortunately, I had missed the memo about it.

When I noticed the grilled shrimp coming at me, I opened my mouth like a SeaWorld dolphin but couldn’t maneuver in time to avoid it hitting me in smack in the eye, which led to everyone laughing their asses off. Oh, funny man, make us laugh, please. Let’s see that again. I didn’t laugh very much when I spent 10 minutes washing the grease out of my eye. Fun times don’t come better than that.

That’s why I hate these ##$*@ places. They bring back bad memories of the “shrimp to the eye” night.

So, last week, when the gang told me the work dinner was at Benihana, I just couldn’t wait to go. Sarcasm alert, if you didn’t get it.

With Benihana being the restaurant choice for the night, someone’s memory flashed on the “shrimp incident.” Then the jokes started rolling my way around noon and continued through dinner. At one point, a pair of safety goggles showed up to protect my eyes from another mad shrimp. Thank you for your thoughtfulness, guys. I’m so lucky.

Light, damn it, light. Oh, screw it. I'm retiring.

Retire before you suck at what you do

At the restaurant, we got the worst teppanyaki chef ever, an ancient bench warmer they called into action when no one proficient at their job could be found. The crusty geezer was counting down the days to the cashing-in of his Benihana 401K and “free fried rice for life” coupon.

This is how much he sucked: He couldn’t flip a shrimp tail into his hat, which is a basic skill they teach you on day one of teppanyaki-chef school. He missed six in a row and gave up. Six? How do you miss six? I could make that shot in six tries. How hard can it be? Evidently, harder than it looks, as was the behind-the-back shot that hit the floor. You’re 0 for 7, loser.

Worst of all, he completely screwed the pooch on my favorite part of the show, the flaming-onion volcano. How do you mess that up? There are only three ingredients: onion, flammable liquid, and a lighter. A six-year-old could torch that baby. Somehow his onion didn’t ignite, much like his passion for the job.

I looked at this cat and wished that CG would get her new lungs soon

Free Drinks on the company

It’s amazing how much some people drink at company functions. It feels like it’s the people who have been in the same position for 30 years and have never moved up. Is it the chicken or the egg? You got drunk at company functions and didn’t get promoted, or you got drunk at company functions because you didn’t get promoted?

One such person, who exceeded his limit, slurred that he was cutting out carbs to reduce calories. When I told him alcohol has more calories per gram than carbs, he mumbled something about not giving up the one thing he enjoyed and turned his back to me. I admit that eating meat and drinking beer sounded like a good strategy regardless of his poor knowledge of caloric intake.

This same guy turned to me later, after he’d forgiven me for my rude remark, and shared this depressing fact: he felt really bad because he’s been attending a lot of funerals lately. Five people he’d known had died in last two months.

You know what I was thinking: I need to get away from this guy right now. I don’t want to be number six. I made sure I didn’t rub up against him. Back luck rising. I started to worry that the chef might lose control of a knife at any moment and I’d look down to see it stuck in my chest. That would be . . . ironic? I survive 47 years of CF and meet my maker at a teppanyaki grill where I’m killed by a guy who can’t make a flaming volcano? I know what my British friends would say: F#*king hell.

When someone finally drove the carb counter home, I yelled out “seat-belts,” and got a funny look back like I was the drunk one. I just didn’t want the driver to be number six.

I was so happy when I left and survived the night. I will do my best to avoid these places in the future. I’ll use the “I’m sick” excuse. No one at work will argue with that one.

Stay safe.

Fox’s Adventures in Los Angeles – Theatricum Botanicum

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Handsome me hunting in the theater's garden

Fox here.

A magical outdoor theater hides in the hills of Los Angeles. Though well-cloaked by the woods of Topanga Canyon, and unknown to many who live in L.A, Theatricum Botanicum thrives as a gem of artistic freedom and expression.

This outdoor theater hosts outstanding plays and music in the summer and fall. The area where it’s located is home to artists, writers and other successful L.A. humans. Foxes like me live throughout the surrounding hills, along with other mythical creatures who show up at night.

Here’s the web link.  http://www.theatricum.com/

I recently grabbed UC and his family and treated them to a performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. For a few hours, cystic fibrosis and the challenges of life faded away, and fun and mirth was had by all.

Thank you, Mr. Will Geer and Family. Thank you for maintaining this wonderful place and for sharing great art.

(CG, I hope to see you here one day with that crazy cat of yours. It’s your kind of place.)

Here are some photos from the day.

The year was 1973 and Theatricum started rolling. It gets better each year.

Buried deep in the woods, T.B. is a must see in L.A.

Strange creatures live here and hide themselves in plain sight during the day. At night, this gas meter man comes to life and roams the canyon, hissing and smelling of rotten eggs.

While you're sleeping, I'll be standing outside your house measuring your gas usage

Here is the man who started it all.

The great man himself. AKA Grandpa Walton. At night, he comes to life and tells great stories to the wildlife.

Theatricum has introduced thousands of kids across L.A. to live theater. They give back to the community. Here’s a small performing area for kids to practice. It includes this cool bridge.

A wood bridge in a smaller theater for kids

Botanicum refers to the nature that surrounds the place, including the special garden where the bust of Will Geer and other native plants live.

Arrive early and you can picnic in the garden or other hidden nooks.

All kinds of amusing and interesting things hide in plain sight here and fill one’s imagination and heart. Where does this staircase go? No one knows because all who have gone up it have never been seen again.

Do I hear Led Zeppelin playing?

Here’s the stage in all of its glory. I would have loved to show you the actors on stage, but they frown on that. Plus, I drop the camera a lot trying to hold it my paws. My pal, Josh, tells me it has something to do with me not having opposable thumbs. At least my middle one still works.

All actors are invisible to the camera lens. That's how magical they are.

Here’s where the forest creatures hide during the day. Notice that there is no door.

Only at night does a door appear. They say those who see look too closely at the creatures become a creature

What exists at the top of the hill is unknown. Clearly, this is a sign a fox can ignore. And I did. However, I cannot speak of what I saw.

You do not want to know what's up here. Trust me, I'm a fox.

That was my adventure in Los Angeles. If you live here or are visiting, Theatricum offers the finest entertainment and acting. Not only that, your worries and troubles will gently be absorbed by the surrounding nature and the wonderful performance. You’ll leave smiling and relaxed.

Fox out.

On the Road with My Pal, cystic fibrosis

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Fox taught me to get a hotel room with a stove for boiling nebs.

[Warning: adult language]

Four days on the road

Mush, you CF drugs, mush. Creative Commons - jurvetson

I used to love traveling on business, but now I haul so much CF stuff that it’s not very enjoyable. It feels like I load a dog-sled full of nebs and meds. And it takes a couple of hours to boil and pull everything together. Then I need to make sure I don’t forget anything, though I’m didn’t fly this time, which meant I could drive back, if needed. Still, I’d rather avoid that.

Thanks to my wife, I received a packed suitcase for my trip. She packs enough clothes for a three-week trek across Antarctica. I can change my underwear twice a day, which fortunately I don’t have to do.

I’m not complaining.

A stuffed suitcase is a great perk of being married. I just need to lighten the load before I leave next time. I did promise to bring her back a cute penguin, though there weren’t any at my real destination, Ontario California.

What you can see looks nice. Creative Commons: angelasevin

What do we really know about each other?

Sticking with the Antarctica theme, I’m an iceberg, as are my co-workers. Just like icebergs, we only know the 10% of each other that sticks out of the water. The other 90% remains hidden from view. The longer we work together, the more ice we see. But with me, there is always cystic fibrosis lurking below the waterline.

Only three trusted people at work know I have it. The rest have the impression I’m sick a lot, I don’t like to shake hands due to germs, and I don’t like to talk about being sick a lot. Pretty close, but I don’t think I’m sick a lot.

CF neuters me again

My manager asked me to travel overseas on company business, which I used to do all the time. I turned it down. I just couldn’t do it. I have hemoptysis screwing with me these days, and I already lived through a bloody gusher on a plane across the Atlantic once before. Plus, travel wears me out, which affects my health in bad ways. Not wanting to go through that again, I turned it down for health reasons, which was embarrassing and made me feel like less of a man.

A leak develops - Creative Commons: clearly ambiguous

There’s that CF iceberg again, dragging through the water, slightly more complex than other people’s. Still, I’m lucky, I know.

The joys of saying the wrong thing

A co-worker said to me, “you looked really tired in the meeting.” She made this simple comment three times, as if I didn’t hear it the first time. Why do people always have to comment on the way I look? And why is it always negative? Do you really need to point out circles under my eyes or other physical characteristics? “Gaunt” or “thin” used to derail me when I was younger. I’ve heard it so many times now, who cares. I should wear a bag over my head 24/7.

What they don’t know

What my pal didn’t know was that my mucus production quadrupled the day before, and I was awake until one in the morning coughing it all out. Then I had to get up at 6:15 a.m. – when my co-worker was sleeping – to do my xopenex, two hypertonic salines, and my flutter. Then, I had to get ready for work. All of this took close to two hours.

Who wouldn't want to dream of these?

So, when someone says you look tired to me, I feel like saying, fuck you very much. While you were dreaming of puppies playing, and snug in your Marriott bed, I was sitting in my bulldog-covered boxers coughing up a pile of the stickiest crap you’ve ever seen in your life. Would you like me to show what I coughed up?

When you don’t have anything nice to say, just STFU.

I was pretty tired on Tuesday. I had to grind out the workday. I hadn’t slept well or long; my upper back was killing me, an 8 on the pain scale.  When I hurt it . . . I have no clue. Sharp back pains zapped me when I coughed. And my stomach bothered me all day. Overall, CF did a good job kicking my ass that day. I should have looked tired. But she had no idea why I did.

Zen and the art of keeping your mouth shut

Perfect bag for me. Note the upside down "crazy" on the bag. Awesome.

I had my own “foot in the mouth” incident when I said hello to someone I hadn’t seen in a long time and added: “I hear you’re kicking ass in your new position.” I meant it as, “I hear you’re doing really well.” I forgot she just fired one of the nicest people in the department, a woman who wasn’t a very good worker, but made days brighter. Thus, when I made my comment, she turned red from embarrassment.

I had to quickly explain what I meant. Too late, Mr. Tiny Verbal Dancer, damage delivered and done. I won the idiot of the day award, which goes on my shelf next to a hundred others that I’ve won at work. Yay, oh, yay, Communications Master, just STFU in the future.

I’m thinking of becoming a monk, the type who takes  a vow of silence. The only problem is there’s still non-verbal communication. I’m sure one of my fellow monks would look at me, make a sad face, and then use his finger to trace imaginary half circles under his eyes, which is the monk-way of saying “you look tired.”

I, of course, would use non-verbal communication right back with my middle finger – the universal way of saying, just STFU.

Stay calm and quiet.

Fox’s Adventures in Los Angeles – Concerts on the Green

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Hello,

Fox here. Unknown is on my shit list again after yesterday’s “I’m lucky” post. I asked him if he wanted to write another one of those sugar fests while he’s coughing up a lung doing his treatments. Judging by the two birds he flipped and red face, he’s not feeling so happy-go-lucky right now. My turn to write a post.

I attend concerts because that’s the kind of thing I do. I grab my nurses and roll to where good music is playing.

Each week the Valley Cultural Center hosts a free concert in Woodland Hills. Desperado, an Eagles tribute band, played and rocked the house, and we danced like animals.

The band played one of my all-time favorite songs: “Hotel California.” Here is the Eagles’ original version on youtube.com. Feel free to play it while you look at the pictures. You’ll feel like you were hanging with us.

It was a packed house tonight, which meant I signed a lot of autographs.

Lots of people, great music and great fun

I seek out places where hunting is easy. This park has one of my favorite places to eat. As it reads on the side of the trailer, “All American Cooking.” That pig looks like he doesn’t turn away until his plate is cleared.

A truck full of meat. It doesn't get better than this, my friends.

Here’s my tri-tip sandwich. Meat and bun. Simple for a fox. Not too much fun for a vegetarian, but they do have grilled corn on the cob to chow down.

Juicy meat I didn't have to chase down and skin. Loving it.

This place has strange places to visit. You couldn’t pay me enough to go in the tiger’s mouth. Kids went in, but they didn’t come out.

You can consider yourself tri-tip for the tiger when you walk in its mouth.

The event got out of hand when a giant rat ran through the park. I chased him off.

Nothing creates havoc like a giant rat with a cheese belt

When I hang in public, I get attention. People don’t see many foxes. The cameras come out and autograph hounds run over to visit and talk. Some even sketch a picture of me. Here are two of my favorites of the night.

I love the taste of hen. It really does taste like chicken.

Here’s another one done by a young fan. She just sat there and stared at me like she’d never seen a fox before.

Fox is popular with young fans, too. They know I'm a gamer and hold the record in Super Mario.

Here I am. The most handsome of foxes.

I am more handsome than you are - by far. No comparison. And I'm 100 times better looking than Unknown. No need for a bag over my head. I'm foxy.

That’s my adventure in Los Angeles.

A quick shout out to Josh at Welcome to Joshland. He’ll know why. 🙂

Party like it’s your last.

Fox out.

Fox’s Adventures in Los Angeles – Tri-Tip Sandwiches and Ice Mural

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Hello,

Fox here. Unknown banned me from posting. But the Lakers won, and now Unknown’s passed out on the floor after drinking a sixer of Old Milwaukee and two Caramel Frappés. So, I’m back.

As insurance, I just took some David Hasselhoff-style blackmail photos of Unknown to make sure I return again.

Tonight’s a good night to share one of my favorite places to eat in Los Angeles on weekends. You won’t find this carnivore’s paradise in Zagat’s or any tour guide. It’s a local’s-only place in the San Fernando Valley called Jim’s Market.

Hunting made easy

You don’t actually eat at the market. They sell the meat to the catering guys, who cook it up in the parking lot using the bad-ass BBQ you see to the left in the photo above and in the photo below. They serve the food from a catering truck.

I have one of these on order for my Midsummer Nights's Eve party

The wheel on the BBQ lowers the meat to the charcoals for the perfect level of heat.

I order the tri-tip sandwich, which is smoky, tender and tastes nothing like raw squirrel. No need to hunt when you have cash.

It’s all good. Sitting in the sun, drinking Schlitz, eating cow on a bun.

And, when you’re kicking it, there’s even some urban artwork to contemplate.

Ice House mural of the good old days

From a distance, it looks pretty nice – ice truck delivers ice to kids. Kids play with ice. But when you look closer, things get spooky.

Is that really ice?

I look at this mural and think WTF is going on here? I almost don’t want to ask. A twisted game of something?

What’s up with the boy in brown pants?  It’s ice, you dunce, not a Popsicle. Who peacocks to eat an ice cube?

I’m not sure what the leprechaun in the straw hat is feeding the dog, but I’m thinking you make it with chemicals and serve 5 to 7 years in prison for selling it. The eyes on the pup are a dead giveaway – dilated cartoon eyes whacked out on meth.

In 5 minutes, this dog will go postal

See what I mean? It’s best not to ask questions. It’s freaky. But the meat at Jim’s makes up for it.

So, if you’re around on the weekends, stop by. I’m the only fox eating there. We’ll kick back and discuss life, beer and ice.

Fox out.