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Monday, November 10, 2008
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Thank you for flying US Airways, welcome to: Bomb Threat
And I don't mean "'da Bomb! threat" (owch... that hurt to say but I had to). I mean, wake up too early, leave something important that you forgot to pack at home, grab your bags and race to the airport to find out that there's chaos breaking loose and the police are turning people away and confusing the hell out of depressed looking travelers. THAT kind of bomb threat.
It's now 12 hours later, and after far too much pretending to be nice to ticketing agents when really my blood is burning through my veins, I am sitting in the airport waiting for my flight that they managed to squeeze me onto via. what I fear may be a very long standby list.
For all of you "look at the bright side" types - (as Bubs would say) - just go ahead and stare directly at the sun for 35 mins and then you'll know. My vision was blurry from all sorts of anxiety and frustration that I had no idea I was fully capable of. Though, I will go ahead and say that the 6 hours of waiting in between my original flight and the one I am getting on now, did pay off with some last minute beach nap time.
Thanks to my sweetheart (for the first two trips and last trip, and one very angry taxi driver in between) for driving me and my bags back and fourth and all around hell-town today, it looks like (at the cost of a red-eye and very sleepy me), I will not be missing my checkup (post surgery) OR the two weddings I have to shoot this weekend. No promises yet, tho, until I get on this flight.
BTW. Happy 4th of July. I'm shooting a wedding for it, so I keep forgetting,
but have a happy one. (The airport apparently has way more american spirit than I apparently do: see photo illustration).
p.s. To the guy sitting next to me with the fantastically horrible car-foot stench - PLEASE. Pleaseeeeeeeee please stop groping that big red balloon like that. It's def. not meant to be handled how you are handling it. Thank you.
It's now 12 hours later, and after far too much pretending to be nice to ticketing agents when really my blood is burning through my veins, I am sitting in the airport waiting for my flight that they managed to squeeze me onto via. what I fear may be a very long standby list.
For all of you "look at the bright side" types - (as Bubs would say) - just go ahead and stare directly at the sun for 35 mins and then you'll know. My vision was blurry from all sorts of anxiety and frustration that I had no idea I was fully capable of. Though, I will go ahead and say that the 6 hours of waiting in between my original flight and the one I am getting on now, did pay off with some last minute beach nap time.
Thanks to my sweetheart (for the first two trips and last trip, and one very angry taxi driver in between) for driving me and my bags back and fourth and all around hell-town today, it looks like (at the cost of a red-eye and very sleepy me), I will not be missing my checkup (post surgery) OR the two weddings I have to shoot this weekend. No promises yet, tho, until I get on this flight.
BTW. Happy 4th of July. I'm shooting a wedding for it, so I keep forgetting,
but have a happy one. (The airport apparently has way more american spirit than I apparently do: see photo illustration).
p.s. To the guy sitting next to me with the fantastically horrible car-foot stench - PLEASE. Pleaseeeeeeeee please stop groping that big red balloon like that. It's def. not meant to be handled how you are handling it. Thank you.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
WARNING
WARNING: This may just be (hopefully) the most bitchiest, whiniest, longest blog of my entire life. Read at your own risk:
I AM MOVING OUT.
It's official. . . Merwin St. (my current place of residency) has actually made it to the top most insane things i've ever experienced in my life. I have been avoiding writing about it for so long because, honestly, I don't even know where or how to begin.
I guess I could start with the fact that is basically feels like I live at a crowded dog pound (although the dogs are treated better there than they are here). People get dogs around here as if they are some sort of yard decorative fixture. Although don't you have to have a "yard" to decorate first? It's all just concrete space fenced off around the front door. They aren't even guard looking dogs, they are mostly just white yappy little guys. If it's not the little pouffy one barking his tail off constantly at his un-attentive owners (and I do mean constant - 3pm or 3am, he doesn't sleep apparently), it's one of the pit bull puppies next door crying for SOME sort of attention (or maybe its just crying for some sort of shelter from the sun? Or water? Which reminds me, does anyone know the number to the ASPCA?) There used to be a white dog across the street when they first got it, but now there is a grey dog. I have a sneaking suspicion it's the same dog, just really dirty. Sometimes I wonder if they don't pay attention to it (and I mean EVER) because they think it's not even their dog?
"What happened to our white dog?"
"I don't know, but keep that dirty mutt that comes into our 'yard' out of our house!"
Then again, they must know it's theirs, because sometimes they shove it into a tiny (I imagine hot as hell) dog house and board up the entrance... Maybe they do care about it and don't want it to get stolen? (Again, ASPCA # anyone?)
Maybe people just don't have the time to take care of their dogs, because they are too busy working or caring for their children? NOPE. Not here. It's been several times now that I've seen kids almost die (hit by cars standing in the street, falling from their balconies trying to climb the fences/etc.) from not being watched properly by their parents (who are standing in crowds blasting music from their cars and checking themselves out in the rear view mirrors).
There is also a fiesta BBQ gathering almost EVERY day of the week that includes lots of loud obnoxious music, guys standing around YELLING at each other (maybe to hear each other over the music?) and plenty of BBQ and Booze. That normally starts at about 8am and lasts on and off throughout the night.
The music from either them or the Car-Music-Party-Goers is usually loud enough that I need headphones to hear whatever I happen to be listening to, and I can feel it shaking my place/rattling my dishes on the shelves.
That said, not everyone on this block stays at home and slicks back their hair all day. . . The people who DO get up (early as hell, btw) make it VERY obvious that they have to go to work at 6am, because as soon as they roll up in their cars to pick up their buddies, it's HONKKK HONK HONKKKKKKKK for hours. Does anyone know that doorbells exist even? I really don't think they do.
When it's not the cars honking at each-other/for their pickups, it's the mexi-cart guy who brings food on a little cart up and down the street at LEAST twice a day. He walks down past each house, stopping every 20 feet or so, CONSTANTLY honk honk honking his horn to get people to come buy food (which rarely anyone does). I took a video of it today just to prove that I am not exaggerating:
The pigeons have their own story to tell (see previous post about pigeons). Although we've boarded them out of the attic/crawl spaces, they still like to hang around the doors/windows all morning/day and make the loudest, CREEPIEST noises ever. I can't tell if they are mating or dying. Not a pretty sound to wake up to, but I'd gladly take it over the honking any day.
There's been several times now where the entire block is completely lit up by helicopter cops searching or busting down on the Gang house that is around the corner. Not very comforting to come home to, let me tell you.
These are only a few of the unbelievable events that take drive me to the edge on a daily basis. I hate to be SO harsh on my own neighborhood, but this is absolutely mental. I have never experienced such a constant state of chaos in my life that lasts such a long amount of time. I can remember about three days in the last four months that I've lived here where I didn't need to concentrate on relaxing and breathing past all of the stress going on around me.
I love my space. The actual apartment that I live in. It's such an amazing setup and my landlords are absolutely sweet hearts. The garden is beautiful (although I rarely want to step outside to enjoy it for all of the above reasons). So what am I doing about it, you ask? I am doing what I should have done from the start: Moving to the beach. That's right! I live in CA, and I have no reasons right now to be further inland, so why the hell shouldn't I live where I can ride my bike everywhere, surf the ocean every day, and sink my feet into the sand each morning and night. Not to mention, people smile at you there rather than smashing your car with their walking cane (don't ask) or giving you that "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LOOKING AT" glare.
Santa Monica, and a much more relaxed and happy spirit, Here I come.
I AM MOVING OUT.
It's official. . . Merwin St. (my current place of residency) has actually made it to the top most insane things i've ever experienced in my life. I have been avoiding writing about it for so long because, honestly, I don't even know where or how to begin.
I guess I could start with the fact that is basically feels like I live at a crowded dog pound (although the dogs are treated better there than they are here). People get dogs around here as if they are some sort of yard decorative fixture. Although don't you have to have a "yard" to decorate first? It's all just concrete space fenced off around the front door. They aren't even guard looking dogs, they are mostly just white yappy little guys. If it's not the little pouffy one barking his tail off constantly at his un-attentive owners (and I do mean constant - 3pm or 3am, he doesn't sleep apparently), it's one of the pit bull puppies next door crying for SOME sort of attention (or maybe its just crying for some sort of shelter from the sun? Or water? Which reminds me, does anyone know the number to the ASPCA?) There used to be a white dog across the street when they first got it, but now there is a grey dog. I have a sneaking suspicion it's the same dog, just really dirty. Sometimes I wonder if they don't pay attention to it (and I mean EVER) because they think it's not even their dog?
"What happened to our white dog?"
"I don't know, but keep that dirty mutt that comes into our 'yard' out of our house!"
Then again, they must know it's theirs, because sometimes they shove it into a tiny (I imagine hot as hell) dog house and board up the entrance... Maybe they do care about it and don't want it to get stolen? (Again, ASPCA # anyone?)
Maybe people just don't have the time to take care of their dogs, because they are too busy working or caring for their children? NOPE. Not here. It's been several times now that I've seen kids almost die (hit by cars standing in the street, falling from their balconies trying to climb the fences/etc.) from not being watched properly by their parents (who are standing in crowds blasting music from their cars and checking themselves out in the rear view mirrors).
There is also a fiesta BBQ gathering almost EVERY day of the week that includes lots of loud obnoxious music, guys standing around YELLING at each other (maybe to hear each other over the music?) and plenty of BBQ and Booze. That normally starts at about 8am and lasts on and off throughout the night.
The music from either them or the Car-Music-Party-Goers is usually loud enough that I need headphones to hear whatever I happen to be listening to, and I can feel it shaking my place/rattling my dishes on the shelves.
That said, not everyone on this block stays at home and slicks back their hair all day. . . The people who DO get up (early as hell, btw) make it VERY obvious that they have to go to work at 6am, because as soon as they roll up in their cars to pick up their buddies, it's HONKKK HONK HONKKKKKKKK for hours. Does anyone know that doorbells exist even? I really don't think they do.
When it's not the cars honking at each-other/for their pickups, it's the mexi-cart guy who brings food on a little cart up and down the street at LEAST twice a day. He walks down past each house, stopping every 20 feet or so, CONSTANTLY honk honk honking his horn to get people to come buy food (which rarely anyone does). I took a video of it today just to prove that I am not exaggerating:
The pigeons have their own story to tell (see previous post about pigeons). Although we've boarded them out of the attic/crawl spaces, they still like to hang around the doors/windows all morning/day and make the loudest, CREEPIEST noises ever. I can't tell if they are mating or dying. Not a pretty sound to wake up to, but I'd gladly take it over the honking any day.
There's been several times now where the entire block is completely lit up by helicopter cops searching or busting down on the Gang house that is around the corner. Not very comforting to come home to, let me tell you.
These are only a few of the unbelievable events that take drive me to the edge on a daily basis. I hate to be SO harsh on my own neighborhood, but this is absolutely mental. I have never experienced such a constant state of chaos in my life that lasts such a long amount of time. I can remember about three days in the last four months that I've lived here where I didn't need to concentrate on relaxing and breathing past all of the stress going on around me.
I love my space. The actual apartment that I live in. It's such an amazing setup and my landlords are absolutely sweet hearts. The garden is beautiful (although I rarely want to step outside to enjoy it for all of the above reasons). So what am I doing about it, you ask? I am doing what I should have done from the start: Moving to the beach. That's right! I live in CA, and I have no reasons right now to be further inland, so why the hell shouldn't I live where I can ride my bike everywhere, surf the ocean every day, and sink my feet into the sand each morning and night. Not to mention, people smile at you there rather than smashing your car with their walking cane (don't ask) or giving you that "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LOOKING AT" glare.
Santa Monica, and a much more relaxed and happy spirit, Here I come.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
quick game of pickup
Buckle up for the fastest, most abbreviated version of what I've been wanting to write about lately all smashed into one tiny quick blog so I can go eat sushi:
Palm Sunday rolled around and I ached for the feeling of walking down the cathedral aisles waving my palm branch proudly with my family while trying to behave ourselves for the sake of my parents who still think we're 10 every time (twice a year) we attend church together.
I talked about Hyacinth flowers being my most favorite things on earth apparently enough times, because although I could find them NO WHERE around town, Bubs managed to find the most perfect white ones ever for me. Filled my apartment with good memories and parties in my nostrils all week, just in time for Easter:
EASTER. Should we cook a traditional meal at home in my kitchen (I still have to buy basically everything for my kitchen) or should we go get stuff to have a picnic with on El Matador beach? EASY choice for this perfect weathered day. Snuggled into the sand in front of one of the beautiful little rock coves and ate yummy sand(no pun intended)wiches and (illegally) drank some wine. This day couldn't have felt any better and more full of reason, or so I thought. On the way back to our car, AT THE BEACH, there she pounced, right before our eyes: The Easter Bunny. Yes, it's true. I saw the Easter bunny, a real live bunny, AT the beach, on Easter Day. Perfect.
What next? Sushi time. Of course we picked the spot that was completely empty except for the most awkward two musicians on the planet playing for us all night. Enjoying some delish. sush. over some ear-drum-wrecking music (ok they actually weren't bad, I'm a jerk), we thought the night was coming to an end. OHHH no...
Come to the part of the night where we approach my car parked out on the street and find some guy stumbling around trying to open the doors. As we near, he acts like it's his car and leans into it. But realizing that it's actually OUR car, he stumbles on to the next vehicle. That is what too much alcohol does to you, kids, so be careful next time you go drink your weight in booze.
Is this night NOW finished? Nadda. Enter legging-wonder-woman. She darted in front of my car like it was her job. And her job's uniform was the most AMAZINGLY dizzying/unique crazy shade pattern of purple I've ever seen in my life. Wow. She didn't get hit, and neither did her leggings.
All in all... Thing's in my life are going well. Lots of new work/sites going up and the making of them pretty much consumes the rest of my time.
Speak soon.
x
Palm Sunday rolled around and I ached for the feeling of walking down the cathedral aisles waving my palm branch proudly with my family while trying to behave ourselves for the sake of my parents who still think we're 10 every time (twice a year) we attend church together.
I talked about Hyacinth flowers being my most favorite things on earth apparently enough times, because although I could find them NO WHERE around town, Bubs managed to find the most perfect white ones ever for me. Filled my apartment with good memories and parties in my nostrils all week, just in time for Easter:
EASTER. Should we cook a traditional meal at home in my kitchen (I still have to buy basically everything for my kitchen) or should we go get stuff to have a picnic with on El Matador beach? EASY choice for this perfect weathered day. Snuggled into the sand in front of one of the beautiful little rock coves and ate yummy sand(no pun intended)wiches and (illegally) drank some wine. This day couldn't have felt any better and more full of reason, or so I thought. On the way back to our car, AT THE BEACH, there she pounced, right before our eyes: The Easter Bunny. Yes, it's true. I saw the Easter bunny, a real live bunny, AT the beach, on Easter Day. Perfect.
What next? Sushi time. Of course we picked the spot that was completely empty except for the most awkward two musicians on the planet playing for us all night. Enjoying some delish. sush. over some ear-drum-wrecking music (ok they actually weren't bad, I'm a jerk), we thought the night was coming to an end. OHHH no...
Come to the part of the night where we approach my car parked out on the street and find some guy stumbling around trying to open the doors. As we near, he acts like it's his car and leans into it. But realizing that it's actually OUR car, he stumbles on to the next vehicle. That is what too much alcohol does to you, kids, so be careful next time you go drink your weight in booze.
Is this night NOW finished? Nadda. Enter legging-wonder-woman. She darted in front of my car like it was her job. And her job's uniform was the most AMAZINGLY dizzying/unique crazy shade pattern of purple I've ever seen in my life. Wow. She didn't get hit, and neither did her leggings.
All in all... Thing's in my life are going well. Lots of new work/sites going up and the making of them pretty much consumes the rest of my time.
Speak soon.
x
Sunday, March 2, 2008
the astonishing people in my life.
This is only a blog to name/thank a very FEW of the absolutely, completely, 100% without a doubt most amazing and loved family/friends in my life, who make my world go round and (happily) round.
Those of you who say and do little random acts of love and who I wish I could do the same for constantly every day. Who give me hand written/created cards on normal Thursdays. Who write me one word texts that speak novels to me. Who give me little gifts (candles/soap) that mean lots to me (perfect timing b/c it's been on my list of things to get), who go on random adventures (like "sex clothing shopping"?) with me, who let me "just not talk about it", who encourage me to "talk about it", who drink far too much coffee with me, who drink far too much alcohal with me, who come to my birthday with their own special blue drinkie-drinks, who come to my birthday even after major surgery, who come to my birthday even from so far away, who come to my birthday and add lots of laughter/love/stories/uncomfortable moments, and who come to my birthday so obviously and powerfully in heart and spirit.
Yes. To all you guys and to lots more, I really appreciate being a part of your lives and having you a part of mine. My heart wouldn't beat the same strong rhythm without each of you in it.
Happy birthday to my momma bear, and to myself (we were both born on the 3rd (she's older than I am in case you were confused), so I am a day or two premature on this, but still, HAPPY!).
p.s. some favorite quotes/conversations from tonight/the past week:
"I just broke my underwear" - Colin
(seeing a group of guys in every variety outside of a bar in LA) - "Wow, Look at that adventure in boy sizes" - Colin (a very sincere comment).
(Bringing out way too much more food):
"I thought maybe ummm. . . we needed these stuffed mushrooms. . . to balance the meat balls"-yours truly
"yes! that's the problem with these whore-derve parties, there's so much good available you don't stop eating and drinking until everyone's sick. . . " - Reade Salad
". . . And THATS where the real fun starts. . . " - Garth
(no one stops eating or drinking)
"Yah. . . I had to change outfits already" - Yaicha
"I look like a white snowman prostitute" - Reade M. Salad
pictures to come soon
Those of you who say and do little random acts of love and who I wish I could do the same for constantly every day. Who give me hand written/created cards on normal Thursdays. Who write me one word texts that speak novels to me. Who give me little gifts (candles/soap) that mean lots to me (perfect timing b/c it's been on my list of things to get), who go on random adventures (like "sex clothing shopping"?) with me, who let me "just not talk about it", who encourage me to "talk about it", who drink far too much coffee with me, who drink far too much alcohal with me, who come to my birthday with their own special blue drinkie-drinks, who come to my birthday even after major surgery, who come to my birthday even from so far away, who come to my birthday and add lots of laughter/love/stories/uncomfortable moments, and who come to my birthday so obviously and powerfully in heart and spirit.
Yes. To all you guys and to lots more, I really appreciate being a part of your lives and having you a part of mine. My heart wouldn't beat the same strong rhythm without each of you in it.
Happy birthday to my momma bear, and to myself (we were both born on the 3rd (she's older than I am in case you were confused), so I am a day or two premature on this, but still, HAPPY!).
p.s. some favorite quotes/conversations from tonight/the past week:
"I just broke my underwear" - Colin
(seeing a group of guys in every variety outside of a bar in LA) - "Wow, Look at that adventure in boy sizes" - Colin (a very sincere comment).
(Bringing out way too much more food):
"I thought maybe ummm. . . we needed these stuffed mushrooms. . . to balance the meat balls"-yours truly
"yes! that's the problem with these whore-derve parties, there's so much good available you don't stop eating and drinking until everyone's sick. . . " - Reade Salad
". . . And THATS where the real fun starts. . . " - Garth
(no one stops eating or drinking)
"Yah. . . I had to change outfits already" - Yaicha
"I look like a white snowman prostitute" - Reade M. Salad
pictures to come soon
Monday, February 18, 2008
Jesus is back (from a previous blog) and He's pissed.
we're doomed.
" This was the dramatic scene as the world's largest statue of Jesus was hit by lightning.
(article/pic taken from: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/news/worldnews.html?in_article_id=513855&in_page_id=1811)
" This was the dramatic scene as the world's largest statue of Jesus was hit by lightning.
The bolt parted the thunderclouds over Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, to strike Christ the Redeemer.
The statue is 130ft tall, is made of 700 tons of reinforced concrete and stands atop the 2,296ft Corcovado mountain overlooking the city."
(article/pic taken from: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/news/worldnews.html?in_article_id=513855&in_page_id=1811)
Paradise: I have arrived
I should have called this post: "PIGEONS: I have arrived" (explanation to come).
I moved into my new place (finally). With the help of a certain panda bear, my new bed has also finally been purchased and ever so lovingly placed in it's new home for me to rest my weary (and very owwy) shoulders on. No more broken sofa bed = a very happy Belly.
This place is amazing on so many levels. What seemed like a quiet dark little back road when I first checked it out (in the pouring rain of one late night) now shows it's true colors (and noises):
I have a private "tenants" garden in the back (which we are planning on putting a little level/deck in part of to make space for a BBQ area) and I can't wait to start planting some yummy spices and goodies.
The entire yard is covered in great little accents ranging from random stone sculls placed here and there under beautiful little trees, and a vast array of flowers and vines. There's even a little pond with fishies swimmin' around. There is a nice little deck off the back (perfect for pancake breakfasts) and two patios off either side (one with a never ending supply of Bamboo stretching up it's side, the other sitting at the top of a palm tree). Although the views are amazing from any side of this little home of mine, it's the French windows at the front that take the cake. Open those babies up for a nice breeze while you gaze out at the mountains and Hollywood sign during the day, or a blanket of city lights at night.
The SOUNDS. . . Man. . . Where do I even begin? At some points (like now, fortunately) all you hear is the breeze flowing through the trees outside, little chirping birds singing love songs to each other and a random outburst from the local kids (there are tons of them) running from yard to yard around the street (once the sun came out and the rain cleared, this quiet weird little street turned into a community with families and puppies all over the place).
My new home's soundtrack has mostly, tho, consisted of a Rooster who likes to sleep in till 2pm then start his proud cocka-doodle-dooing, a guy who thinks it's OK to HOOOONNNNKKKKKKK (and I mean lean on for 10 minutes) his horn at 630a, and the most random smash up of Mexican melodies coming from three different houses all at any given time. Oh yah, and pigeons having a party (probably a fiesta) up in my ceiling. Ohhh the pigeons. Where do I even begin? We're pretty convinced that they are the top-dogs(birds) of the block, possibly even drug lords. I think they have little deals and meetings every hour or so that mainly take place up in the rafters above my place. That or there is a family with 20 bird-kids, and the momma pigeon does a lot of re-arranging and cleaning all day. It's just a constant scurrying around - sounds like she's moving her pigeon-furniture back and fourth trying to get the place setup JUSTTTT right. How do I know they are pigeons and not rats? Evidence:
They are really starting to get too comfortable around here, I think I saw one sunbathing naked on the roof earlier, and because they aren't helping out with the rent, we've decided to post their little eviction notice up on their wall and give em the boot (Mark - of Annie and Mark - the two AMAZING people who own this house - has so kindly gone and rigged a little "pigeon-proof" gate over their entrance)
.
I'm pretty sure they all went out for lunch (probably sandwiches), because while he was putting up the blockade, no one was home. . .
Ten minutes later, a little guy came flying back and after realizing he couldn't get in, sat for a while on the patio looking up in complete and udder confusion, scratching his little pigeon feathered head.
(I spy with my little eye two pigeon beaks)
Sorry bud, there are going to be some big changes coming this year, and you getting kicked out of your home unfortunately has to be one of them (I am a jerk).
Don't get me wrong, tho, I love every second of it here in this place and I'm so happy to finally be back OFFICIALLY in Los Angeles (I could do without Mr. Horn Blower, but I'll deal).
Other than that, I miss life with Carolyn (even with the hellish sleeping situation) and I miss whiskey still. Not for long, tho, as I am going back up to Santa Barbara tomorrow to hang with C-Dawg and come next Thursday I'll be back for my visit with the whiskey girl.
I moved into my new place (finally). With the help of a certain panda bear, my new bed has also finally been purchased and ever so lovingly placed in it's new home for me to rest my weary (and very owwy) shoulders on. No more broken sofa bed = a very happy Belly.This place is amazing on so many levels. What seemed like a quiet dark little back road when I first checked it out (in the pouring rain of one late night) now shows it's true colors (and noises):
I have a private "tenants" garden in the back (which we are planning on putting a little level/deck in part of to make space for a BBQ area) and I can't wait to start planting some yummy spices and goodies.
The entire yard is covered in great little accents ranging from random stone sculls placed here and there under beautiful little trees, and a vast array of flowers and vines. There's even a little pond with fishies swimmin' around. There is a nice little deck off the back (perfect for pancake breakfasts) and two patios off either side (one with a never ending supply of Bamboo stretching up it's side, the other sitting at the top of a palm tree). Although the views are amazing from any side of this little home of mine, it's the French windows at the front that take the cake. Open those babies up for a nice breeze while you gaze out at the mountains and Hollywood sign during the day, or a blanket of city lights at night.
The SOUNDS. . . Man. . . Where do I even begin? At some points (like now, fortunately) all you hear is the breeze flowing through the trees outside, little chirping birds singing love songs to each other and a random outburst from the local kids (there are tons of them) running from yard to yard around the street (once the sun came out and the rain cleared, this quiet weird little street turned into a community with families and puppies all over the place).
My new home's soundtrack has mostly, tho, consisted of a Rooster who likes to sleep in till 2pm then start his proud cocka-doodle-dooing, a guy who thinks it's OK to HOOOONNNNKKKKKKK (and I mean lean on for 10 minutes) his horn at 630a, and the most random smash up of Mexican melodies coming from three different houses all at any given time. Oh yah, and pigeons having a party (probably a fiesta) up in my ceiling. Ohhh the pigeons. Where do I even begin? We're pretty convinced that they are the top-dogs(birds) of the block, possibly even drug lords. I think they have little deals and meetings every hour or so that mainly take place up in the rafters above my place. That or there is a family with 20 bird-kids, and the momma pigeon does a lot of re-arranging and cleaning all day. It's just a constant scurrying around - sounds like she's moving her pigeon-furniture back and fourth trying to get the place setup JUSTTTT right. How do I know they are pigeons and not rats? Evidence:
They are really starting to get too comfortable around here, I think I saw one sunbathing naked on the roof earlier, and because they aren't helping out with the rent, we've decided to post their little eviction notice up on their wall and give em the boot (Mark - of Annie and Mark - the two AMAZING people who own this house - has so kindly gone and rigged a little "pigeon-proof" gate over their entrance)
.I'm pretty sure they all went out for lunch (probably sandwiches), because while he was putting up the blockade, no one was home. . .
Ten minutes later, a little guy came flying back and after realizing he couldn't get in, sat for a while on the patio looking up in complete and udder confusion, scratching his little pigeon feathered head.
(I spy with my little eye two pigeon beaks)
Sorry bud, there are going to be some big changes coming this year, and you getting kicked out of your home unfortunately has to be one of them (I am a jerk).
Don't get me wrong, tho, I love every second of it here in this place and I'm so happy to finally be back OFFICIALLY in Los Angeles (I could do without Mr. Horn Blower, but I'll deal).
Other than that, I miss life with Carolyn (even with the hellish sleeping situation) and I miss whiskey still. Not for long, tho, as I am going back up to Santa Barbara tomorrow to hang with C-Dawg and come next Thursday I'll be back for my visit with the whiskey girl.
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