Live from Los Angeles

Proving That the World Literally Revolves Around Me, Space Shuttle Lands in California

Soon after my re-entry into Florida in 2005, I was assigned to help cover the launch of space shuttle Discovery.

You could say I wasn’t really “into” space exploration at the time. As a matter of fact, I was unaware that space shuttles were still launching.

What can I say? I’d been up to my ass covering crap here on Earth.

My new paper, The Tampa Tribune, took the launches very seriously. The higher-ups didn’t think it was very funny when I accidentally said out loud, “Those things are still going up?”

Well, the Space Coast changed me.

I was lucky enough to see Discovery launch in July 2005. As the shuttle zoomed up in a neat arc and disappeared into the atmosphere, it finally clicked.

I was watching human beings go into... space.

So I was tickled this morning to learn that Atlantis had landed in California, just a couple hundred miles away at Edwards Air Force Base. Turns out Florida was too rainy. (And as we’ve discussed – it never, ever rains in Southern California.)

I was glad to have the company. Welcome home, Atlantis.

 

[Image LINK: AP]

Technorati Tags: Space Shuttle Atlantis,Edwards Air Force Base,Space Coast,Cape Canaveral,Space Shuttle Discovery,The Tampa Tribune,Titusville,NASA

Mannywood Without the Manny

I bought Dodgers tickets in advance of Anthony’s 30^th birthday Sunday, so it sucked especially hard when the news broke last week that Manny was busted either trying to ovulate – or trying to cycle off a round of ‘roids.

Man-Ram was out for 50 games, but we were still holding tickets for Sunday’s matinee match against the Giants.

Apparently, life goes on after Manny.

I know there were Dodgers before Manny. I had been going to games with Anthony since before Manny came to town. But there’s just something magical about that goofy Dominican.

Every time he’s up to bat, the crowd gets giddy. Even the dudes glued to their seats with pencils and scorecards stand up to see what Manny will do. He always swung for the fences. The joy he showed while doing it was contagious.

It didn’t take long for him to become the favorite Dodger.

On Sunday, the mood was resigned. The signs over the “Mannywood” section in left field were down. The fans’ dreads hats were gone. It was like a wake with no body.

How do you mourn the best friend you just found out was cheating on you?

Then, there was this. A countdown to Manny’s resurrection.

Who knows if all Dodgers fans can forgive. But their hearts might be too full to forget him just yet.

 

Technorati Tags: LosAngelesDodgers,MannyRamirez,DodgerStadium

One Mint Julep, Please. Light on the Julep.

Well, we didn’t make it to the Kentucky Derby this weekend, but we did make it to the downstairs bar of the historic Roosevelt Hotel in Hollywood.

This is one of our favorite places for martinis on special occasions. The bartenders here have a real knack for them.

They believe in stirring, not shaking. Which is good – I want my gin to be well rested before I throw my head back and sling it down the hatch.

And the place has real atmosphere – dark leather, bar stools covered with fake animal skin and arms made out of horns.

It’s classier than it sounds.

And we like that it’s quiet in here, even though you’re in the middle of Hollywood. You’re surrounded by the action without having to be part of it.

It was the perfect stop before seeing “Wolverine” at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre across the street. Our goal was to drink enough martinis to put hair on our chests. And necks and ears.

Actually, looking back on it, we really should have had way more booze than we did. It would have helped “Wolverine” go down easier.

This is what we should have had. Two guys next to us ordered mint juleps. The bartender takes these seriously as well, as you can see.

These patrons made the classic non-Southerner mistake of underestimating the mint julep. I don’t know if it’s the “mint” or the “julep” that throws people off. They think they’re drinking a Shirley Temple or something.

Five minutes into it – already too late to turn back – one of them lowered toward the bartender and says quietly: “Seriously. Dude, this is a strong drink.”

I guess he didn’t watch it being poured – bourbon, sugar, mint. Ice. Heavy on the bourbon.

The bartender smiled.

All the martinis in LA got nothin’ on a true Southern cocktail.

 

Technorati Tags: Kentucky Derby,mint julep,Roosevelt Hotel,Grauman's Chinese Theatre,Hollywood,Hollywood Boulevard

The Forecast Calls for Booty

Last month, my out-of-state travels reminded me – as they always do – of all that is strange about LA.

Re-entry into Los Angeles is a culture shock every time I come back. I am finally getting used to paparazzi at the airport, the graffiti all over the freeway – and the sunshine that greets me, no matter what.

There are, of course, things about LA that I will never be used to.

While catching local news at home in North Carolina and on the road in Florida and Tennessee, I found myself mesmerized by the TV news personalities.

Something, I noticed, wasn’t right. The hair – different. The makeup – different. And why… why are they wearing so many clothes? Is Amish in?

Where’s the cleave? The miniskirt and stripper heels? The sweaters that are so tight you think the sports guy may have to give mouth-to-mouth?

The overdone lipstick that is absolutely porn-tastic, even at 5 in the morning?

It wasn't what I had become used to.

I present to you: my local meteorologists. The LA TV weather hookers.

 

 

They are incredible. I was shocked when I first saw the local news here – I thought “Witches of Breastwick” was on at the wrong time. Or that I had accidentally ordered pay-per-view.

 

And when I brought this up to native Angelenos, they had no idea what I was talking about. They thought every TV “meteorologist” dresses like Lil' Kim.

 

Not to say that sex doesn’t sell news on TV stations elsewhere – obviously, it does. But the sex appeal of the weather I’m used to is... well, more subtle. Less Mons Venus.

Leave it to LA to let it all hang out. Rain or shine.

 

Thanks to my old friend Andréa for, as always, nailing it. She spotted the first news "hooker" back in Baltimore. Chained to our desks at 5 a.m., forced to type, we couldn't turn away from the TV traffic hooker who looked like she'd never gone to bed at all. I have to say, though, compared to these women -- even that chick was downright wholesome.

 

Technorati Tags: Weather Girl,Jillian Barberie,Elita Loresca,Jackie Johnson,KCAL,KTTV,KNBC

Paparazzo, My Darling: A Love Poem

My latest freelancing assignment has put me in close contact with a well known (but tragically misunderstood) element of LA society.

It’s been… inspiring.

 

I’m in Love with a Paparazzo

My eyes are filled with the sight of you, papi
When you’re done with your stalking, why don’t you call me?

You’re first on the scene, like cops on Mel Gibson
I try not to envy, but I’m guilty as Nixon

That shiny new car you got from the mob
The way you run red lights – makes my heart throb

You’re sexy in a skinny way
Have you had anything to eat today?

I love your accent; you sound so smart
When you scream at Britney, it melts my heart

You’re a professional. You never take no
You’re an observer, but you steal the show

Nothing fazes you. It’s all in good fun
Even when your subject waves at you with a shotgun

Hottest of all is you flicking your stogies
Into a garden of the neighbor’s peonies

You ignore security – you won’t be fenced in
You act like you own the place – are you even a citizen?

You pull up your hood to block my view
But it’s no use, baby. I know it’s you

I’ve learned a lot from you, watching you work
Wherever you go, behind you I lurk

You won’t admit it, but you love me too
Do you see me here? In your rearview?

 

Technorati Tags: Paparazzi,Los Angeles,Celebrity,Poetry

Apparently, It's Oscar Night

Because I keep getting asked this, I’m obliged to report that yes, Anthony is helping out with Oscar coverage tonight.

He covered pre-show activity and is now back in the bureau slaving over a hot keyboard, under a bank of televisions tuned into Hollywood’s Big Night.

So the other answer, also, is yes. Yes, it’s too late for you to pass along your glamour shots/dirty polaroids to Hugh Jackman and Penelope Cruz.

All I know about the Oscars is that I couldn’t hit the bar I wanted to last night because the whole operation has taken Hollywood hostage for about the last 10 days, and you can’t get anywhere down there without sitting in traffic and detouring around blocked streets for hours.

Anyway. This is what Anthony looks like in a tux at 10:30 in the morning.

 

Latest update from outside the Kodak was Anthony wondering why he has to wear a tie when Mickey Rourke doesn’t.

[Image LINK: AFP]

Technorati Tags: Oscars,AcademyAwards,MickeyRourke

If a Chase Is Low-Speed, Is It Still a Chase?

So this was happening in our neighborhood an hour ago.

A big, white luxury car led California Highway Patrol and LAPD in a loop around Los Angeles for about three and a half hours before stopping on the street about two miles from our apartment – close to where the chase began.

For more than an hour, there was a standoff in front of the Toyota dealership.

Anthony just got back from the scene and reported that the dude just shot himself.

People are all wound up, because they think he’s a famous person. They’re mostly going on the fact that it’s an expensive car. For hours, TV news implied that it was Chris Brown. Then that it was DJ Khaled, a rapper from Miami.

Of course, he’d be from Florida.

Now, DJ Khaled has released a statement. He says he's still alive.

So, someone please explain this to me. The low-speed chase. Call me a hayseed, but I just don't get it.

He was on surface streets for much of it. For hours, he was going 30 to 40 mph, while people gathered on the sidewalks and overpasses to wave at him and holler.

The news chopper showed a dozen cop cars behind him, and the LAPD choppers overhead had spotlights on him.

It’s like he’s leading the Rose Parade. But police can’t figure out how to shoot him? Or throw down a spike strip?

Especially when they know he’s armed?

Apparently the low-speed chase is an LA thing, ever since OJ. Maybe I’m just old-fashioned, but I don’t see why in the hell you wouldn’t just pull over someone who’s going the speed of a golf cart – or a Prius.

Indeed, the scene earlier, on the TV news, is pure LA – high-powered rifles, two dozen cops, paparazzi, onlookers, cell phone cameras…

And it’s all in front of a car dealership. Classic. Especially, I guess, for LA.

 

Top Photo Link: [cbs2.com] Bottom Photo courtesy of Anthony.

Technorati Tags: LA low-speed chase,DJ Khaled,Chris Brown

Valet, You're Not Fooling Anyone

I’ve come to think of it as the moment… when the magic happens.

The moment when our car appears out of the alternate universe – a universe far away. Where only LA valets are allowed to roam, and to park.

Our car appears, literally, out of nowhere.

God knows what they’ve been doing with it, since we gave it over four hours ago. God knows where the valet took it – since there is no parking anywhere that is visible, and this is Hollywood (or Los Feliz or downtown or West Hollywood), which means there is not even any parking anywhere that is INvisible.

I’m convinced my instincts were true. It goes into Narnia. That big lion drives it around in the forest, getting his fur all over the seats, until dinner is over.

But then the car appears, on command, apparently unmolested. See? Magic.

Of course, there are those other nights. When the car doesn’t go into an alternate universe at all.

It goes into a space right across the street, 15 feet away from us, into a spot we could have parked in ourselves if the valet hadn’t reserved it for himself so that he could drive the car for 15 seconds and take our six bucks.

It’s maddening.

Then there are some nights that are even more surreal. Take Thai Town.

I took this picture a few weeks ago, because I couldn’t quite believe it was happening. You’re not allowed to park yourself in this lot – valet is required. But look where they park it.

In the spaces NEXT TO where you’re standing.

It’s a STRIP MALL. Not with Pak-n-Mails or whatever – just Thai restaurants, but still. It’s a strip mall. I can park my own car. I’m familiar.

Plus, it's confusing. I don't know what to do as they retrieve the car. Am I supposed to look away? Is it rude to watch? It's awkward.

Dude. I can see you.

Worst of all, there's no mystery. No suspension of disbelief. No big lions.

No magic.

 

Technorati Tags: Los Angeles valet,Thai Town

Don't I Know You? From Must See TV?

This happens from time to time, and it’s always disconcerting.

I see someone I recognize, but I can’t quite place them. I’m not talking about just the LA girls with skinny jeans and giant sunglasses whom you think might be famous, but you have no idea who they are. Or they might just be trying to look like they’re famous.

I’m talking about faces you know – but you don’t know.

Two weeks ago, I was in Gelson’s – a hoity grocery store near the apartment that I can’t afford to shop in, but I was just getting chicken and I was in a hurry after wrangling the freeways for an hour. Plus, I like to look at all the shiny food that rich people eat.

In the frozen food aisle, I scooted around a cart that was blocking nearly the entire space, and the woman in charge of it spun around. She smiled, apologized profusely and moved out of the way.

I looked at her in the face for about three seconds too long, because I assumed she knew she was my neighbor or my aunt or that she works at my salon or pours me drinks on Friday nights or sells me my grande decaf.

She was none of those things.

She was… Seinfeld’s mom.

It took me a week and a half to place her, but it finally hit me in the shower a few days ago.

I looked her up. Judging from her Web site (which is down today), she seems like such a nice lady! She lives nearby, so I suppose I may run into her again.

Next time, I’ll know. Seinfeld’s mom is the one NOT wearing big sunglasses.

TOP PHOTO LINK: [lizsheridan.com]

BOTTOM PHOTO LINK: [Hilly Blue on Flickr]

Technorati Tags: seinfeld,liz sheridan

Are You There, God? It's Me, Hyundai.

In LA, like everywhere else in America, we are consumers. Of clothes, PlayStations, cars, pie, sushi, knock-off purses, things with high fructose corn syrup, movies and television. In LA, especially movies and television.

That is, if you believe the ads.

Almost everywhere we go we see oversized billboards stacked on top of each other and “supergraphic” advertisements covering high-rises. They are eye-popping.

 

I often realize I’m staring at them, imagining that they are visible from space and that God himself is looking down and reconsidering how many Oscar nominations he should give Last Chance Harvey.

Sometimes, sitting in our car on a busy street in Hollywood, it feels like the air is saturated with signs.

It’s amazing to me that they are legal, considering everything else here that is regulated. You can’t use your cell phone while driving. You can’t read or type or send text messages while driving. Or sitting at red lights.

THAT might be distracting. Not, of course, P. Diddy’s 20-story head gazing out onto Hollywood Boulevard.

And none of that regulation takes away from what driving actually is here – an insanely dangerous pastime.

Just when I was wondering, “Where is the litigation??" -- there was some. The LA Times wrote yesterday about office workers who are going batty, because the supergraphic ads are plastered to their windows and block out the sun.

And today, the advertisers fight back. It’s free speech – didn’t you hear?

And check out their own marketing slogan:

They make ads “so large they can be seen from space.”

So I wasn’t just seeing things.

 

Technorati Tags: Los Angeles billboards,Los Angeles supergraphics