At a previous new bar that week, a downstairs speakeasy, a first-time visitor to the city from L.A. said that she was impressed by all the landscaping from the airport when they landed and where taxiing in all the way through parks downtown, since there isn't anything like that much anymore in L.A. b/c of the drought.
Her face was so open and honest and non-sensationalistic when she said that, that as she was saying that, all I could think was,"Global warming is here."
It felt like a cinematic moment, as part of a prologue to something much more awful that forms the heart of the movie.
Saturday, November 7, 2015
Friday, November 6, 2015
An Interesting Late Afternoon-to-Evening Drinking (2 of 2): Second Bar.
After that, I still had one more new bar to go to that week, so I popped into a newly opened Buffalo Wild Wings on the way home.
Because an important sports game was on, I ended up going upstairs and having a drink.
People weren't social, and the (late 40s) (hardbitten) (white) woman with medium length blackish-brown hair next to me looked at her phone a lot.
Later, we struck up a conversation, and it turns out that she's Irish and has lived in the State for more than 2 decades.
"That was positively amazing about the gay marriage vote," I was like.
"I know," she was like. "I was so excited and proud of my country that day."
Then, she turned away. "Oh fook," she was like, "I'm going to start crying again."
Later, it turns out that she had gotten unfairly dismissed from her hotel job and filed a grievance with her union, and two years later it came through and she got her job back.
Because of that, she gave me some advice with retaliation, including about the difference between money and principle, since at one point they offered her six thousand dollars, "which is a lot of money to people in the bar business."
She also said when I discussed particulars of my case, that as far as she could see, that I "have them by the balls."
When we left, we left as friends, and may hang out again.
Because an important sports game was on, I ended up going upstairs and having a drink.
People weren't social, and the (late 40s) (hardbitten) (white) woman with medium length blackish-brown hair next to me looked at her phone a lot.
Later, we struck up a conversation, and it turns out that she's Irish and has lived in the State for more than 2 decades.
"That was positively amazing about the gay marriage vote," I was like.
"I know," she was like. "I was so excited and proud of my country that day."
Then, she turned away. "Oh fook," she was like, "I'm going to start crying again."
Later, it turns out that she had gotten unfairly dismissed from her hotel job and filed a grievance with her union, and two years later it came through and she got her job back.
Because of that, she gave me some advice with retaliation, including about the difference between money and principle, since at one point they offered her six thousand dollars, "which is a lot of money to people in the bar business."
She also said when I discussed particulars of my case, that as far as she could see, that I "have them by the balls."
When we left, we left as friends, and may hang out again.
Thursday, November 5, 2015
An Interesting Late Afternoon-to-Evening Drinking (1 of 2): First Bar.
So, the other weekend after a matinee of animation shorts downtown, I popped through the one cozy but touristy bar that I like b/c you meet interesting random people a lot, where I had my 35th birthday evening.
I had texted my one Czech literature professor friend to see if she wanted to join me, since she likes that bar too, but she was busy with a one-day weekend conference.
Then, it turned out that the guy next to me was this older (white) (gay) dude from L.A. who had been coming to that bar several times a year for 17 years, and he had randomly met her there the previous night and was drinking till at least 8:30pm, the last time he looked up at the clock.
"When I woke up this morning," he was like, "The bed was covered in melted ice cream and Jimmy Johns wrappers."
Then, he was since back at the drinking, as of 11:30am.
One thing led to another, and it turns out that the guy had owned a lot of major gay clubs, including in L.A., and he used to date a cocktail waiter at Studio 54 and would go there a lot.
"We had a bicoastal relationship," he was like. "Every time I went in there, Steve Rubell hated me."
He then said that years later, he walked out of his California apartment building in Palm Springs, and walking out of the apartment building across the street was Steve Rubell, who had moved there without either one of them knowing.
"It was like, 'Bitch, what are you doing here?!'", he was like.
"Wait," I was like. "You said that or he said that?".
"I did," he was like. "He said, 'You know that I came here just to torment you.'".
Later, at the guy's request, I texted my one Czech literature professor friend to find out what time they had left the bar previous evening, to which she replied -
Hmm. I'm not sure. I ended up at McDonalds where I took pictures of everyone else sitting around me. So sad.
. . .
She also wanted to know if the bar had her knit black hat, with kitten ears.
The older gay dude club owner went to the lost-and-found and looked for it, but couldn't find it.
"It wasn't there, and I do remember it," he was like.
He said at one point she put it on him, but he turned it sideways so it looked kind of like a Stegosaurus spine.
. . .
The old gay club dude also to used to have Madonna come into his club sometimes, back in late 80s or early 90s when it was the hottest club in L.A.
He said that she was always very nice when he greeted her when she came in.
She'd come in late at night, maybe for the last hour of the evening, when everyone had already started to clear out and go home.
She'd be enjoying the clubs again, as much as she could.
I had texted my one Czech literature professor friend to see if she wanted to join me, since she likes that bar too, but she was busy with a one-day weekend conference.
Then, it turned out that the guy next to me was this older (white) (gay) dude from L.A. who had been coming to that bar several times a year for 17 years, and he had randomly met her there the previous night and was drinking till at least 8:30pm, the last time he looked up at the clock.
"When I woke up this morning," he was like, "The bed was covered in melted ice cream and Jimmy Johns wrappers."
Then, he was since back at the drinking, as of 11:30am.
One thing led to another, and it turns out that the guy had owned a lot of major gay clubs, including in L.A., and he used to date a cocktail waiter at Studio 54 and would go there a lot.
"We had a bicoastal relationship," he was like. "Every time I went in there, Steve Rubell hated me."
He then said that years later, he walked out of his California apartment building in Palm Springs, and walking out of the apartment building across the street was Steve Rubell, who had moved there without either one of them knowing.
"It was like, 'Bitch, what are you doing here?!'", he was like.
"Wait," I was like. "You said that or he said that?".
"I did," he was like. "He said, 'You know that I came here just to torment you.'".
Later, at the guy's request, I texted my one Czech literature professor friend to find out what time they had left the bar previous evening, to which she replied -
Hmm. I'm not sure. I ended up at McDonalds where I took pictures of everyone else sitting around me. So sad.
. . .
She also wanted to know if the bar had her knit black hat, with kitten ears.
The older gay dude club owner went to the lost-and-found and looked for it, but couldn't find it.
"It wasn't there, and I do remember it," he was like.
He said at one point she put it on him, but he turned it sideways so it looked kind of like a Stegosaurus spine.
. . .
The old gay club dude also to used to have Madonna come into his club sometimes, back in late 80s or early 90s when it was the hottest club in L.A.
He said that she was always very nice when he greeted her when she came in.
She'd come in late at night, maybe for the last hour of the evening, when everyone had already started to clear out and go home.
She'd be enjoying the clubs again, as much as she could.
Wednesday, November 4, 2015
Cooking mistake: Paprika - Chile Powder Proportions.
So, the paprika I get in bulk for Hungarian recipes is sweet, not hot.
(Paprika comes in two kinds, sweet and hot.)
So, since both paprika and chile powder are made by grinding dried peppers, for years I've added in a dash of chile powder with sweet paprika in Hungarian recipes, to give the food some kick.
When I made my first big Hungarian stew of fall, however, I added in a bit too much chile powder.
My first shit of the morning the next morning was just like loose shards of reddish-tan that made a soupy mist, and so was my second, too, which came on strong about two hours later when my coffee kicked in.
(Paprika comes in two kinds, sweet and hot.)
So, since both paprika and chile powder are made by grinding dried peppers, for years I've added in a dash of chile powder with sweet paprika in Hungarian recipes, to give the food some kick.
When I made my first big Hungarian stew of fall, however, I added in a bit too much chile powder.
My first shit of the morning the next morning was just like loose shards of reddish-tan that made a soupy mist, and so was my second, too, which came on strong about two hours later when my coffee kicked in.
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
Hardware store guy is going through some problems.
The other week on a Saturday afternoon I stopped through the hardware store in my neighborhood to pick up some plastic wraps to put up on my windows for the winter.
The one (older) (white) (ex-cop) guy who runs the place was there and his friend who he was talking with helped me find them on the shelves, and then when I was checking out, his friend mosied off and we got to talking.
It turns out that his (Chinese immigrant) wife had pain in her left breast like a week earlier, and they got referrals and she's already going in for surgery that Monday.
"She had stuff when she was nineteen," he was like, "But she just never goes to the doctor, she says it's too much money and it won't do anything anyhow."
He then said that she's been down, and hasn't wanted to tell anyone.
I asked around, and he said a "Thinking of You" card wouldn't be good for her, but a "Get Well Soon" card post-surgery would be something that she would like.
He then said that he had a horrible father and grew up in a foster home, and has lived his life trying to be nice to people, so he hopes he has some favors in with "the Big Guy Up There".
He also said that he saw a lot as a cop, and he shot people and got shot, and he still wakes up sometimes in the middle of the night, and he goes back to sleep by thinking of everyone in his life who he's thankful for.
Then, he moved some pads off the calendar to reveal a blank swath of paper and he took up a pencil and was like, "Have I ever showed you this?".
"No," I was like.
He then drew two short lines about three inches apart.
"This is when you're born," he said, pointing to the first line, "And this is when you're going to die," he then said, pointing to the second.
"Where do you think you are?".
"Ooh!", I was like. "That's tough, you can die at any time."
So, I put myself as two-thirds done.
(I really don't like questions like that; I find myself stupefied when people say they'll live a long time or say something about long-term planning that assumes that they think that, b/c you really just don't know, at all.)
"Okay," he was like. "Wherever you think you are, let's just think about that. Remember," he was like, pointing to everything to one side of the mark, "That's in the past, and all this over here is the only thing in front of you."
He said that's how he tries to live his life.
The one (older) (white) (ex-cop) guy who runs the place was there and his friend who he was talking with helped me find them on the shelves, and then when I was checking out, his friend mosied off and we got to talking.
It turns out that his (Chinese immigrant) wife had pain in her left breast like a week earlier, and they got referrals and she's already going in for surgery that Monday.
"She had stuff when she was nineteen," he was like, "But she just never goes to the doctor, she says it's too much money and it won't do anything anyhow."
He then said that she's been down, and hasn't wanted to tell anyone.
I asked around, and he said a "Thinking of You" card wouldn't be good for her, but a "Get Well Soon" card post-surgery would be something that she would like.
He then said that he had a horrible father and grew up in a foster home, and has lived his life trying to be nice to people, so he hopes he has some favors in with "the Big Guy Up There".
He also said that he saw a lot as a cop, and he shot people and got shot, and he still wakes up sometimes in the middle of the night, and he goes back to sleep by thinking of everyone in his life who he's thankful for.
Then, he moved some pads off the calendar to reveal a blank swath of paper and he took up a pencil and was like, "Have I ever showed you this?".
"No," I was like.
He then drew two short lines about three inches apart.
"This is when you're born," he said, pointing to the first line, "And this is when you're going to die," he then said, pointing to the second.
"Where do you think you are?".
"Ooh!", I was like. "That's tough, you can die at any time."
So, I put myself as two-thirds done.
(I really don't like questions like that; I find myself stupefied when people say they'll live a long time or say something about long-term planning that assumes that they think that, b/c you really just don't know, at all.)
"Okay," he was like. "Wherever you think you are, let's just think about that. Remember," he was like, pointing to everything to one side of the mark, "That's in the past, and all this over here is the only thing in front of you."
He said that's how he tries to live his life.
Monday, November 2, 2015
Conversation with my trans*stylist: Malfunctioning blowdryer.
So the Latin@-American trans*stylist who does my hair got chatty towards the end of my haircut session the other week.
First, when the new masseuse got on shift, he was like "Hi," to her, and then was like, "Good morning, Sir," to me.
"Sir?", she was like, as soon as he went away.
"What?", I was like. "You know, I'm old enough to be a 'Sir'."
"I know that," she was like, "But I don't think of you as 'sir', I think of you as [my first name]!"
Later, after a long pause in the conversation, she confessed that she had been thinking about her blowdryer, which malfunctioned the other week and started to spark off the handle while she was using it during the middle of an appointment.
"Luckily the person was turned the other way," she was like.
She then said that she had been procrastinating on contacting the company since it had a lifetime warranty, and that it also had brought back horrible memories from when she was a kid, how she once got electrocuted by biting into an extension cord while trying to unplug a fan.
"Really?", I was like.
"Yeah," she was like, "They say if I wasn't chewing gum, I wouldn't have made it. Chewing gum saved my life, it took some of the current and melted in my mouth."
I then asked her why she was biting into a fan's extension cord anyway.
"To unplug it," she was like.
I then asked her why she chose to bite into the fan's extension cord in order to unplug it.
"Because the cord wouldn't come out," she was like.
"And how old were you?", I was like.
"Six or seven," she was like, to which I said I was happy, b/c for a second there I thought she was going to say thirteen or fourteen or something.
"My sister was sick and needed some air, and my mom was yelling at me to unplug the fan for her," she then explained.
"Oh," I was like.
She then said that she remembers seeing a lot of colors and saying her sister's name a lot, but everyone else said that she did nothing but yell one solid scream until they unplugged it.
At that point, she said she felt fine, but the ambulance was already called, and they were all saying that she should go.
At the hospital, she finally looked in a mirror, and there was a big black circle on her mouth.
"No shit," I was like.
Then, after some explaining, it turns out that it wasn't her entire mouth charred all around, but rather just a black circle at the edge.
"That's why I have a scar right here," she said, pointing to the edge of her mouth at the lips, where a little black circle used to be, presumably.
"I used to be so embarrassed back in school," she was like, "And the other kids would try to be nice to me, and be like, 'Oh, I get those sometimes in the winter too,' and I'd have to say it wasn't like that at all!"
She then also said that when her blowdryer started sparking the other day, she insisted that the (female) (Japanese) owner unplug it for her.
"And did you tell her it was malfunctioning?", I was like.
"No," she was like.
First, when the new masseuse got on shift, he was like "Hi," to her, and then was like, "Good morning, Sir," to me.
"Sir?", she was like, as soon as he went away.
"What?", I was like. "You know, I'm old enough to be a 'Sir'."
"I know that," she was like, "But I don't think of you as 'sir', I think of you as [my first name]!"
Later, after a long pause in the conversation, she confessed that she had been thinking about her blowdryer, which malfunctioned the other week and started to spark off the handle while she was using it during the middle of an appointment.
"Luckily the person was turned the other way," she was like.
She then said that she had been procrastinating on contacting the company since it had a lifetime warranty, and that it also had brought back horrible memories from when she was a kid, how she once got electrocuted by biting into an extension cord while trying to unplug a fan.
"Really?", I was like.
"Yeah," she was like, "They say if I wasn't chewing gum, I wouldn't have made it. Chewing gum saved my life, it took some of the current and melted in my mouth."
I then asked her why she was biting into a fan's extension cord anyway.
"To unplug it," she was like.
I then asked her why she chose to bite into the fan's extension cord in order to unplug it.
"Because the cord wouldn't come out," she was like.
"And how old were you?", I was like.
"Six or seven," she was like, to which I said I was happy, b/c for a second there I thought she was going to say thirteen or fourteen or something.
"My sister was sick and needed some air, and my mom was yelling at me to unplug the fan for her," she then explained.
"Oh," I was like.
She then said that she remembers seeing a lot of colors and saying her sister's name a lot, but everyone else said that she did nothing but yell one solid scream until they unplugged it.
At that point, she said she felt fine, but the ambulance was already called, and they were all saying that she should go.
At the hospital, she finally looked in a mirror, and there was a big black circle on her mouth.
"No shit," I was like.
Then, after some explaining, it turns out that it wasn't her entire mouth charred all around, but rather just a black circle at the edge.
"That's why I have a scar right here," she said, pointing to the edge of her mouth at the lips, where a little black circle used to be, presumably.
"I used to be so embarrassed back in school," she was like, "And the other kids would try to be nice to me, and be like, 'Oh, I get those sometimes in the winter too,' and I'd have to say it wasn't like that at all!"
She then also said that when her blowdryer started sparking the other day, she insisted that the (female) (Japanese) owner unplug it for her.
"And did you tell her it was malfunctioning?", I was like.
"No," she was like.
Sunday, November 1, 2015
Flashback to rest-stop break in August...
My bustrip back from my 1st vacation of the summer got majorly delayed, since first there was a tire slightly leaking air that took 4-5 hours to get replaced before we even headed off, and then there was road construction causing a detour and adding another 45min. on when we were several hours out from arrival.
At one point after the road construction, we were all so late, that the (black) (female) replacement driver just pulled off the road to a roadside reststop, and as we were deboarding and she was saying that the stop was just ten minutes, she was all out loud like, "I'm sorry, but I just have to stop..."
Then, as a group of us were walking up to the rest stop, me and her struck up a conversation, and b/c I brought up the initial tire delay, we got on the subject of bus emergencies.
She said a number of trips ago, these semi drivers were blasting past her, and they were flicking a lighter on in the window and pointing back.
At first, she thought that they were just fucking with her, but then she realized that a back tire was on fire.
"Oh," I was like. "For a second there, I thought you were going to say that they were holding up signs saying 'SHOW YOUR TITS!'".
"You crazy," she was like. "And then the next be one, he like, 'NO, COVER 'EM UP, COVER 'EM UP!'".
At one point after the road construction, we were all so late, that the (black) (female) replacement driver just pulled off the road to a roadside reststop, and as we were deboarding and she was saying that the stop was just ten minutes, she was all out loud like, "I'm sorry, but I just have to stop..."
Then, as a group of us were walking up to the rest stop, me and her struck up a conversation, and b/c I brought up the initial tire delay, we got on the subject of bus emergencies.
She said a number of trips ago, these semi drivers were blasting past her, and they were flicking a lighter on in the window and pointing back.
At first, she thought that they were just fucking with her, but then she realized that a back tire was on fire.
"Oh," I was like. "For a second there, I thought you were going to say that they were holding up signs saying 'SHOW YOUR TITS!'".
"You crazy," she was like. "And then the next be one, he like, 'NO, COVER 'EM UP, COVER 'EM UP!'".
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