Last night I dined at The Veggie Grill near Sunset and Fairfax with my Facebook friends, and real friends, Tom, Shane and Michaela. “Bel, I had the ‘Chickin’ Ceaser Wrap’ last time. It’s really good.” Tom said. Taken aback by this self-proclaimed vegan person claiming to have recently consumed chicken, I said “I thought you were vegan!” Tom was then obligatorily forced to laugh uproariously at my cluelessnes. Veggie Grill apparently, serves vegan, 100% plant based fare. It’s the first fast-casual restaurant chain of it’s kind, recently recognized by Los Angeles magazine as one of L.A.’s “Best Cheap Eats.”
Beautifully sitting on my white ceramic plate, the “Chickin’ Caesar Wrap” tasted like it actually contained grilled, blackened chicken. It was for sure amazing. Tom ordered the burger which he claims tasted like a real burger. The restaurant ambiance was nice on the eyes with bamboo floors and vibrant kiwi-green and orange décor. A little toddler boy with an afro took a liking to our charismatic group and waved at us all, friendly-like, before running off in the opposite direction.
The available desserts were carrot cake, chocolate tofu pudding and a cookie with nuts. Shane bought the cookie to go. “It has big chunky nuts,” he observed. “You don’t like big chunky nuts?” Michaela asked. “What, you don’t like big chunky nuts?” I also innocently and naively asked as a big group of people stepped towards us, within earshot. I think they appreciated our avant-garde sense of humor.
I was talking to my little middle-school niece on the phone yesterday. I’m in Los Angeles, and she’s in Florida so I don’t get to see her much. She told me she broke up with her boyfriend and a minute later he’d changed his Facebook Status to say “single.” When she told him she wasn’t ready for a relationship he said “Can we still dance together at the school dances?” She said no so he changed his status. I love kids. They do the darndest things.
So I just updated my Facebook Status. Now I’m “In a Relationship.” It was scary to click that mouse and now have a public record that anyone in the entire world has access to. Anyone with internet access, that is. Not that anyone cares, really. My Los Angeles friends are probably too busy pursuing their dreams of acting to even notice. Or perhaps they don’t give a mouse’s butt because they’re experiencing hazards in their own dating life. My friend Jason who happens to be a straight male here in Los Angeles Facebooked me “I spent my Valentines Day at The Abbey. I’m not joking, being sarcastic or pulling your leg. I actually was at the worlds most famous gay bar during valentines day. Shit happens.” To comfort him I told him that he was probably checked out like crazy by the gay men. He was. “I was reminded how high my value is in the gay community. Apparently I’m a highly regarded piece of ass.” Whatever makes you happy, I always say. My boyfriend Stan makes me happy. It didn’t bother him that my face was in the tabloids with a male-stripper (see last blog) and he made me a raw-food vegan meal this weekend since I said that’s what I like. I love adults. We too, do the darndest things.
Life just seems to get more and more hilarious. Today I was at Planned Parenthood on Vermont in Los Angeles for a regular checkup and yes, to obtain some sort of birth control.
Randomly I picked up the tattered In Touch magazine sitting dog-earedly on a chair to my left. Brad Pitt. Angelina Jolie. Bel Baca. “Whaaaaaat?!” There it was. A photo of ME with a male stripper. Yes, male stripper Channing Tatum!
So clearly Channing Tatum used to be a male-stripper. I remember that night even though it was some years ago. I was in college. My boy-crazy roommate Kerry had dragged me out with the girls for a male revue featuring Chip’n Dale dancers. The night was more rowdy than sensual with us girls screaming and laughing as the sweaty muscular men in cowboy outfits girated onstage.
The blonde one with the spiky hair fearlessly walked up to me after the dance, and after a snippet of conversation, grabbed my hand and placed it inside his g-string. Yes, I felt that. That was Channing Tatum (his wife is a lucky woman). I was shocked and giggly and quickly handed him some dollar bills, smiled for a photo Kerry forced me to take and then he walked off. Out of my life forever. That is, until I just now saw our picture in the Jan 18th issue of In Touch magazine. It’s also a full page in the Sept issue of Star magazine and on three different websites. My dad will be so proud. Not about that, though. About the fact that I actually made it to Planned Parenthood and got some birth control.
“When did this happen!!?” I told Kelsa on the phone as I dillydallied through CVS Pharmacy near the Wiltern. “Nailpolish costs $10 a bottle in Los Angeles? Whaaaa?” I always bought the $1 Wet’n Wild polish in Florida. Of course that was several years ago. This was yesterday when I was in CVS to buy hair color since on a whim I’ve decided to whip some lavish red into my strands, sexy Jessica Rabbit style.
After that traumatizing, therapy-inducing CVS visit I headed to the Walgreens on Vermont and 6th Street in Los Angeles. There I found the most affordable yet quality hair color they carried, Garnier Nutrisse for $5.99 a box which with my long hair I need two boxes.
So I can color all my hair a ravishing red and condition it for close to the price of one teeny-tiny bottle of nailpolish. Nice. I don’t need to buy nailpolish anyway. I still have enough nailpolish bottles to give all my dozens of sisters a mani-pedi along with the pretty Los Angeles Kardashian sisters.
Where did the time go? We’re in the 2nd month of the year of our lord, 2010. Right here, right now in Los Angeles. I’m the oldest and wisest I’ve ever been in my whole entire life. Just like every single person in the world. It’s the laws of nature at work. Well, oldest for sure. Although wisest… perhaps.
It’s quite possible that not everyone is at their wisest. Like the bearded lady who lives at the end of our block on Wilshire Boulevard. She has a very thick white beard. She scrounges for food in the trash cans outside the many tall office buildings that line Wilshire, office people, students, random junkies coming and going. Clearly, she’s homeless. My brother and I have seen here several times when we drive by. When we return on foot she’s gone. Otherwise I’d offer her some sort of food in exchange for hearing her beard story. Like how did it happen. When did she let herself go? I’d like to hear that she at some point of her life was wiser than she is now, maybe had a home here in Los Angeles to live in, shaved her beard consistently and had some semblance of a normal life. Like me…
I’m off to pluck my chin hairs now. All girls get them, by the way. Some just get them thicker than others.
P.S. Following this blog, my older, wiser friend Brandon emailed me
“This country didn’t have Homeless on this scale until Ronal Reagan.
I was overseas for most of his first term.
When I came back, I didn’t recognize my Country.”
Our brother Jon left Los Angeles a month ago and Richard and myself got a new roommate, who I’ll refer to as Mark. Mark’s a good guy but generally he speaks in a speed mumble, stream of consciousness manner. “So Um Yaah like I went to the store you know there are a lot of stores in LA? Yah, well lots of food we need food, sometimes I eat too it’s cold I’m not sure where to go yet my job is chill boring racism I experience in this ‘great’ country America what’s the weather like outside I wish I could find my socks after I left for work I brushed my teeth and realized yah, um we have no groceries in the fridge um yah like at 6am I needed to use the bathroom yah I slept 5 hours still tired racism against asians is rampant.”
I try to make sense out of what he says but even if I ask a direct question such as “What duties does your current job entail?” I’ll get another long mumbling diatribe in which I try to pick out key words to string together a cohesive answer. It’s not easy, though. I’ve hence found it best to just do all the talking myself “Wow, Mark. You did a great job on the dishes. That’s awesome that they’re giving you a lot of hours at work. You look very nice today, btw. Thank you so much for telling me about that job where they need Portuguese speakers.” Now if I do ask questions, I’ll make sure they are ones requiring only a yes or no answer. I think that’ll help us get along just fine here in our Koreatown apartment. Mark happens to be leaving though now after just one month and I hope he enjoys his new place.
My friends Tom and Shane work for a pet crematory. Pets in Los Angeles die, pets in Los Angeles need to be cremated. Tom and Shane help make that happen. It’s a small, peculiar niche, yet a booming business rife with comedic stories I’m happy to hear every time we hang out.
Tom and Shane are a couple. A gorgeous couple, I might add. They own a condo in Woodland Hills which I’ve had the pleasure of mouse sitting these days while they’ve been gallivanting through Egypt and France. I say mouse sitting because they have an adorable mouse named Leona (she’s technically a rat but I find that term degrading).
I’ve thus enjoyed days away from Los Angeles, in their perfectly adorned and decorated condo, writing on my laptop or eating a meal with my Stan while little Leona runs around. Uneventful seems to be the word to characterize my time away from Los Angeles, even though I’m only 20 miles away from my Koreatown apartment. Although I did drive back to meet a transvestite who applied to our roommate ad. She had pink hair.
“OMG! I met a guy and he’s the cutest thing ever and I like him so much!” I called my mom to tell her in my middle-school-like excitement and run-on sentences. Yes, several weeks ago at the last minute I’d decided to head out to a Christmas party hosted by Matt and Katie who I used to work with at ACME Talent and Literary, who now have their own webseries. Initially I’d thought I wasn’t going to be able to make it to their party due to work, but work was cancelled and so I found myself venturing out.
But it doesn’t seem to be the place to go to meet your soulmate. Not that I have tried. But at Katie’s little Christmas party I did serendipitously meet an intelligent guy with a warm smile, tan skin and oh-my-god-I-wanna-kiss-him freckles. We hiked on the beach at Point Dume with the sun warming our skin and the waves crashing to the shore. I conned him and myself into running into the freezing cold surf. “It’ll only be for a quick second, Stan! Don’t be a sissy!” It was freaking freezing and we laughed all the way splashing in and out. God, men are beautiful. Women too.
True story, friends. Nova, my BFF in Los Angeles at the time, forced me to audition for the Game Show Network’s Lingo. I was like “Ok, whatever.” So we went in and waited with dozens and dozens of other people. Finally our turn was up and I went and stood in front of the crowd in the room.
The girl Heather Lansky auditioning us looked at my green shirt that had a black tank peeking from underneath it and asked me if I was wearing two shirts or one since it appeared like it could have all been connected. “Two! If I was wearing one my boobs would be popping out!” This to me seemed like a normal answer yet everyone laughed.
A few weeks later Nova and I took a day to make it over to the KTLA building on Sunset and Gower and in a matter of hours we’d won $5,000! Yes, FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS. Nice, for a couple of days work, even if it was split two ways. I love you, Nova.
It’s early morning and the birds are chirping outside. The sky is a lovely shade of blue.
Last night I drove home from work and got lost on all the many Los Angeles highways. I was on the 210, the 2, took the I-5, the 110, missed the 101 and somehow ended up smack dab in the middle of downtown. I don’t have a GPS. I know, I desperately need one. Since I was already downtown I called up my friend Lisa. “Lisa! I’m in your area! Can I stop by?” Lisa is British. She’s wacky and hilarious. My mom is British. She was wacky and hilarious. My Mom lived in England till her twenties. Lisa’s in her twenties and just moved here. So there’s an instant familiarity.
“Look at my new apartment!” Lisa showed me her latest trendy little studio apartment which goes for $500 a month downtown, on 5th and Main. Lisa and I met while working together for the Rosslyn Lofts a few months ago, leasing to prospective tenants, those eligible for the affordable units had to make under $30,000 year but have no misdemeanors or felonies in the past five years and less than $4,000 debt in collections, an ongoing effort by the City to clean up downtown.
“Dude, your place is awesome!” Lisa and I crossed Los Angeles’ Main street to Pete’s Cafe and Bar and ordered some incredibly delicious Blue Cheese fries. “Lisa what are you doing?” I asked as Lisa popped her head around to look at every stranger who walked by. “I’m looking for Sexy Dog Walker.” We chattered like little school girls, ate our amazing fries and ran back across the street where Lisa’s sidewalk was being washed with a high-pressure water hose, splashing us wet. “On that note, I’ll see you later!” I hugged Lisa and ran to my GPS-free car.
