A few weeks ago, Sean and I went to our first Hollywood Bowl show of the season. Along with thousands of others, we watched Grease and sang along to the classic hits. It was a fun night and my inkling that the beloved musical isn’t really kid-appropriate was confirmed. A few choice words in “Greased Lightening” were censored on the big screen with pictures (e.g., a cat, cow and can of whipped cream).
I usually don’t stay all the way until the very end of a show at the Hollywood Bowl. I’ll listen to the last song as I make my way out. Not this time. We were stuck in the throngs. On the walk back to the parking structure at Hollywood & Highland, we navigated the crowded sidewalk like we would in Times Square. Soon we were ahead of the crowd of drunk, slowly walking Grease fans. We only stopped when we had to at lights or driveways.
I was a little impatient as we waited for an SUV to exit the parking lot at the Methodist church on Franklin and Highland. That was until the woman in the passenger seat leaned over to the driver’s side window and said “I read your blog.” I couldn’t hear her, but was able make out the words. I was amused. I smiled and waved back and then she was off.
This is the third time I’ve been recognized while out and about. The first was at an education conference. A few months ago, I was recognized on the track at UCLA.
I don’t mind being recognized. If I wanted to avoid getting recognized, I’d be anonymous like The Militant Angeleno or El Chavo. I’ve admitted that I’d try to be nice if a random reader stopped me to say hi. Still, it’s always unexpected and throws me off guard even if I’m genuinely flattered. I hope I don’t come off as a dork, or worse, a jerk to my readers.
Knockout birthday boy post brunch
Three mugs too many
While making Sean’s card
Learned about Rule 34
Web meme always true
Brilliant fireworks show
Seen from freeway heading west
LA is lit up
First day back at work
Post long weekend, vacation
Miss the pool, long hikes
First year attorney
Fights to protect civil rights
Even for cholos
Feels like past summers
Cheers, sell-out crowd in stadium
Distracts from team woes
Another free game
And a Dodgers victory
Could get used to this
Pre grad school party
Sean has too much wine and cheese
Cindy laughs a lot
Venue gets mom’s vote
You should stop looking, she says
Get the deposit
I met Robbie through Adrian. For years, I called him “my brother’s friend” even though I considered him my friend as well. I like Robbie and get along with him well. The whole family (even extended) is cool with Robbie. He was the only non-cousin invited on the camping trip, excluding the plus-one significant others. Sadly, he backed out shortly before the trip and we wondered aloud how it would have been different with his presence. I felt really bad when I realized that I had never personally told Robbie I was engaged; he had to find out through Facebook. My tío Pancho is one of his biggest fans and regularly tells his daughters to invite Robbie to their parties. He brings the party.
I saw Robbie recently at Cain’s house for a little get together. There was beer, food, beer pong and wading in little Becka’s pool. And a story from Robbie.
As you can see, Robbie has a tattoo or two. They’re pretty neat and easy to notice. His toddler cousin saw Robbie’s tattoos and wanted one of his own. He asked his mom.
“Mom, can I get a tattoo?”
“Yes, but only after you get older and graduate from college. When you graduate from college, I’ll take you to get any tattoo you want.”
The toddler was satisfied with his mother’s answer.
Later, at a family gathering in East LA he noticed a heavily tattooed veterano (older, retired cholo).
The precocious toddler walked up to the man and asked innocently, “What college did you go to?”
We couldn’t stop laughing.
Thanks to Robbie for letting me post this.
I live a short walk from downtown Culver City. I like this. There’s some good restaurants, a large Trader Joe’s, a weekly farmer’s market, a few movie theaters, a couple of theaters, SportEve (my GU supplier and host of a Tuesday evening running group), an affordable place to get massages (Massage Garage) and a few bars. Soon Metro will open up the Venice/Robertson station for the Expo line and I’ll be able to get to downtown LA by rail. Pretty neat.
When I first moved to Palms in 2000, I hardly ever ventured to Culver City. There wasn’t much to do. But with development and gentrification, it’s attracted my dollars and interest in more recent years. I’m in downtown Culver City about once a week. As my friend Will once said, “gentrification worked for me!” (He’s from Chicago’s Logan Square.)
Anyway, I noticed a new restaurant opened up recently when Sean and I had gone out to see Super 8 (we both liked it). I giggled at the sign the same way I did when I saw “loco moco” listed on a Hawaiian restaurant menu. After friends explained to me that the dish did not include any boogers, I ordered it for the novelty. This may have been how I came to be known as Crazy Booger senior year in college.
I’m not interested in visiting MoKo, which I found out is short for Modern Korean. I get what they’re doing, but I’m still not drawn in. I’ll stick to S&W Country Diner for those weekend mornings when I want an indulgent breakfast.
John Muir Trail ascent
To Nevada Falls? Not bad.
Down Mist Trail? Scary.
Hurt by too much love, but need
Fire for survival
In hasty exit from camp
Everyone was soaked
Girl In A Coma
Gets me dancing in the park
Love free outdoor shows
If folks on the grass
See your ass as you walk by,
Your skirt’s much too short
Cashier rings up clothes
Notes amount, “Shopping spree, huh?”
Maybe bought too much
Not a nap person
That’s what I usually claim
Not today, took two
Sean’s pre-birthday lunch
Consume too much meat and carbs
Only once a year