BLOG BELLA

Motorcycle It, Biatch!

// November 30th, 2009 // 2 Comments » // I Love LA.

My car was in the shop for DAYS since it sadly and tragically ceased to function on me right before Thanksgiving leaving me car-less for the holiday.  It was for sure unpleasant to say the least.  To cheer myself up, I figured I’d visit my dear friend Cazzey who happens to live blocks away just off of Wilshire Boulevard himself.

After attentively listening to the story of his trip to Cambodia, where he spent $2 a night to stay with a family of 12 who served him live spiders he bit in half before swallowing along with grasshoppers, sugared roaches and bugs, I’d gotten my fix of living vicariously through him, bid him adieu, on my way out to pickup my car.  The truth is I hadn’t gotten my fix.  My mechanic had called to tell me my car was now fixed and I ready to pick her up!  Finally!  I was going to catch the Metro 12 miles from Koreatown to Studio City.  Of course Cazzey offered to give me a ride.  A ride on his motorcycle.  I was a little scared to ride on his bike on the streets of Los Angeles but I decided what the hell.

Cazzey is an unusual sort.  Long haired and bearded he’s the son of Oregon vegetable farmers, an ordained minister, has been on the History channel playing Moses, is a writer, a compassionate listener and a world traveler.  He might be gone for months up in Alaska shoulder deep in fish water alongside a slew of his fellow fishermen during fishing season.  Or he’ll travel to some faraway state, spending the night in his 1977 motor home.  Or so he used to.

Cazzey now rides a 2005 Honda Shadow.  A deep blue powerful motorcycle.  Since I don’t have many minister friends in Los Angeles who ride motorcycles, I had to launch into full on reporter mode on Cazzey.  I instantly learned that among the benefits are that he now always beats Los Angeles traffic zipping to the front of the long line of cars at the stoplights and passing lanes and lanes of traffic as he slides in between the stop and go vehicles.  Not to mention that his Shadow cost less than half the price of a decent used car, uses only $7 a week in gas while his insurance is under $20 a month.  He also never pays for costly LA parking, easily parking just about anywhere.

I didn’t see any downside until he told me nine out of ten accidents on motorcycles involve a serious injury or death, versus one out of ten accidents in cars.  Either way, I gladly and thankfully rode on the back of his motorcycle, grasping his 300 lb all-muscle frame all the way to the valley as the wind blew in my face, my hair swishing to and fro in the LA air.  You betcha.

Drag Queen Bingo

// November 26th, 2009 // 10 Comments » // I Love LA.

I have a beautiful mix of different and diverse friends.  Perhaps because I don’t really fit in anywhere myself.  As a kid growing up in Brazil I was always called “The American” because my dad’s American.  But what did I know of America?  That everyone was beautiful and rich.  The magazines made that perfectly clear.  Then I moved to America and was called the “Brazilian.”  Yes, the Brazilian daughter of a Brit and an American who grew up learning about Jesus, playing outside in the dirt with my dozens of little brothers and sisters and watching Full House and Punky Brewster, the TV shows Brazil borrowed from the US, always lagging a few years behind in airing.

So I’m the open minded or perhaps foolhardy friend who’s up for anything.  Including Drag Queen Bingo which I was dragged to last night.  My friend Kelsa thought taking me out for my Birthday to Drag Queen Bingo would be a great idea, and boy was she right.  Hamburger Mary’s on Santa Monica Blvd in We Ho was bustling with good cheer and good food, befitting their “Eat drink and be Mary!” slogan.  I had a pink Livin Longtini along with a veggie wrap and fries which was both delicious, filling and at $7 and $8 priced surprisingly low.  Since I rarely drink I had an instant buzz.

The $20 cover charge for the Bingo cards Kelsa and I shared went to benefit Shakespeare at Play.  Sharing the cards worked out better as I was able to run to the restroom while Kelsa covered our pulse-pounding competitive game.  The place was packed with same sex couples, groups of friends, and opposite sex couples.  The prizes included tickets to local events, mojito travel kids,  bottles of wine.  “BINGO!” everyone kept shouting except for us.  “BINGO!”  After each game we losers were told by our host to throw our scrunched up loser cards at the winner who was required to run by each table to receive her shower of balled up Bingo cards.  When a player shouted a false Bingo, he was given a paddling by our tall, animated drag queen host with her beautiful long, spider-like lashes.  We cheered on, as the paddle moved up and down on his butt, happy that although we weren’t Bingo winners, at least we weren’t being paddled in public even if it was by a crush-worthy drag queen.

Go Metro!

// November 25th, 2009 // 22 Comments » // I Love LA.

Last night around midnight I rode the underground Los Angeles Metro train from Burbank to my apartment in Koreatown.  My previously trusty Volkswagen Beetle had heartbreakingly stopped on me, like a stubborn mule.

While trying to park my car I’d been unable to shift into reverse and figured the clutch was acting up, maybe for attention, even though I touched it daily.  I was in a rush to get into a dive coffee shop, The Coffee Gallery, to support my friend Brandon’s stand up act so I figured I’d deal with it when I came back. 

Upon returning, however, I discovered much to my chagrin that playing rough with my gearshift all those times had finally paid off for the worst.  Since I obviously couldn’t get home idled in neutral, I called AAA, an amazing company, by the way.  I joined them on the spot, paying my $47 and was eligible then and there for my first of three tow calls, each up to 7 miles.  A win in the midst of tragedy.  The rose sprouting from the center of the ashes.

Frederick, my brother who so very luckily for me happened to be caught by my side during this ordeal, and myself called our friends hoping they would drive us home after the tow.  The consensus was that yes, they could drive 20 miles out of their way to pick us up, drive us home, then drive themselves back home and try to get some rest before another day of Los Angeles work, but did they want to?  Not so much.  Did we want to put them through that in the middle of a Tuesday night?  Not really. 

The underground Los Angeles Metro train was indeed our powerful savior, to the rescue in our time of dire need.  Our affable AAA tow truck guy, Steve, dropped us off at the Metro station a few blocks from the mechanic’s shop.  Frederick then leapt into action as our courageous guide.  He navigated the Metro system, first onto the Metro gold line that dropped us off at a near empty Union Station downtown, then the Metro purple line, like the captain of a smooth sailing ship, his bald head aerodynamically lead the way.

The Metro trains were each about a quarter full of weary, quiet passengers, allowing us to take seats where we pleased.  The purple line plopped us several blocks from our final destination.  Home.  Frederick and I ran across the empty Wilshire Boulevard as I grasped my pepper spray, so THANKFUL to be home at last!  Go Metro!

No-Bel Laureate (my only blog NOT really about LA)

// November 22nd, 2009 // 10 Comments » // LA Done Me Wrong

I’ve never won a Nobel Prize.  Or received an honorary degree.  I find honorary degrees to be insulting, quite frankly.  “Ok, we know you’d never bother to get a degree from our school so how about we just print you up a piece of paper that says you have a degree! 

Obama:  “What are you implying that I’m too stupid to earn the degree myself?”

College:  “Of course not.”

Obama:  “Well I should hope not because I’ll have you know that I’ve already got a degree from Columbia University and Harvard Law School where I was in fact the first African American President of the Harvard Law Review.  I’ve been the Senator of Illinois and as I‘m sure you’re aware that I am now President of your country.  I don’t think I need your piddly little honorary degree to validate myself.  Give it to someone who could get some use from it.” 

College:  “Then we can brag about the fact that you, Mr. First Black President of the United States have a degree from our college and then YOU can brag about how you have a degree from our college.  Think about it!!”

It’s just plain old retarded.  I myself actually got the student loans, and am making good use of my bachelor’s degree, sitting here writing a brilliant blog even as I type.

Actually, I’ve gotta go write an honorary rent check to my landlady!  I’m sure she’ll put it on the wall next to her honorary marriage license.

Fro Yo

// November 22nd, 2009 // 6 Comments » // I Love LA.

For some reason people in Los Angeles seem to love frozen yogurt.  There are over three dozen Pinkberrys, plus Yogurtlands, Cantaloops, Red Mangos other frozen yogurt shops in Los Angeles. 

My friend Kelsa and myself were in West Hollywood and had just finished an hour long hike up Runyon Canyon in Los Angeles.  Upon returning to her vanilla colored car I spotted a coupon on her winshield for “Buy One Get One Free for a Friend Fridays” at Cantaloop.  Cantaloop, which happens to be way better than Pinkberry’s frozen yogurt, which is very popular out here.  I was so excited! 

Kelsa and I promptly made our way to Cantaloop on Hollywood Boulevard, and I was so happy to discover they’d just added several new flavors!  Mango, Pineapple and the blend of both, peanut butter, chocolate and the blend of both, vanilla, oreo cookie and the blend of both, and banana.  My favorite, by far was the peanut butter.  “I’d like to makeout with whoever invented that one.”  I told Kelsa.

So of course I got the peanut butter flavor, topped it with coconut shavings, granola, rasberries and blueberries, picking and choosing from their twenty-four plus toppings.  I ended up with 10 ounces altogether, and gladly fished out my $4.  Kelsa got the free one. 

We ate our delicious and savory frozen yogurt then returned to the Runyon area to snatch up and steal people’s coupons off their cars.  There’s only a small chance they were gonna use them anyway and we for SURE will use them.  Each Friday until the coupons run out we’re going to Cantaloop for the Friday Free Friend special.

Kids or Coffee?

// November 22nd, 2009 // 6 Comments » // I Love LA.

In some states people can afford to have kids.  In Los Angeles we can afford ready made coffee.  We have more than 300 Starbucks, 193 Coffee Beans, over 600 Seven Elevens and hundreds of other coffee selling establishments in Los Angeles.  If you want coffee all you have to do is step outside your Los Angeles door and walk for a minute or two until you see a magical place swirling with a hot cup of caffeine-filled delight. 

1. I myself rarely go to any of these places since the idea of thousands of disposable cups clogging landfills and our oceans after a single use is mind-bothering.  When I get around to it though, I will buy a reusable mug and tote mine into my own local Los Angeles Starbucks or Coffee Bean.  Most likely I’ll choose Coffee Bean since they offer free internet and they serve the Pomegranate Blueberry latte which sounds sophisticated and healthy.  The appearance of health to an Los Angeleno like myself is even more important than health itself.  Why stop at the corner and buy raw fresh enzyme-rich fruit from the Mexican street-vendor when I can buy a processed tea or coffee drink from a hipster joint?

So if you’re in LA, enjoy your drink that merits having its very own establishment.  You won’t see many kids in there.

Parking Sucks

// November 22nd, 2009 // 3 Comments » // LA Done Me Wrong

“Parking sucks in LA!!!!” is an understatement.  I recently got my car towed in Los Angeles and what a delight that was!  No sucking there.  Thursday night I drove around my friend’s block three times to finally find a space on Sunset Boulevard that read “Anti-Gridlock Zone, No parking 4am-7am, 4pm-7pm Monday through Friday.”  It also had another sign that read “2 hour parking 9am-8pm daily.”  Now, for some reason in my tired of driving around exhausted head I thought it was Friday and hence tomorrow would be Saturday and I could then park till 9am the next morning. 

Well, was I tragically wrong.  The next day I walked out of my friend’s apartment at 8:45am and approached Sunset Boulevard right where the library is near La Brea.  Sadly, my car had vanished.  I called 311, the number on the sign and was on hold then talked to two different people, one who actually gave me the number to the towing place.  So I called them and found out I could pay $240 to retrieve my car.  I wanted to cry.  So I did.  I sat on the sidewalk near the library and cried like a baby.  I called my friend Nova in Colorado to tell her the tragic story.  Some old Armenian man stopped by the library to drop off his books, staring at my tear-wet face.  I don’t blame him.

So I then, delightfully I went to pickup my car.  I walked the mile or so to Highland and Santa Monica.  I asked the lady if there was any way I could pay less.  Looking at my smudged face she had some compassion on me and dropped the $33 per day fee which was really awesome of her.  My car had only been there for less than two hours anyway.  So I paid $207 on my debit card, my heart sinking into my feet. 

I was led upstairs to retrieve my motor-vehicle and I had a ticket on my windshield for $148!  For Christ’s sake, they already got the towing fee which is $100 that goes to the City of Los Angeles!  Obviously it’s not enough for the City of Los Angeles to knock you down.  They wanna kick you while you’re lying on the ground.  I cried all the way down La Brea Blvd.  Anyway, I’ll never make that $355 mistake again.  Hopefully you’ll never make it.  Boo on LA.

99c Only Stores

// November 22nd, 2009 // 2 Comments » // I Love LA.

I love the 99c Store!  It’s the most well-known store in Los Angeles where you can walk in with $12 and leave with a bar of lime scented soap, cherry lipstick, a can of olives, a jar of salsa, tortillas, a bag of corn chips, red onions, a can of refried beans, a scented vanilla candle, and a box of Duncan Hines chocolate chip cookie mix, as well as the last minute impulse splurge on Drip Feeder food for your houseplant or doggie treats for your little snobby Los Angeles chihuahua.

Recently as I was happily exploring a vast array of aisles and shelves containing deeply discounted brand-name merchandise.  I happened across a teeny tiny Sporty Spice action figure that I hadn’t seen in stores since I was a kid.  Omg, it was so cute!  Naturally, I snatched it up to send to my little sister who we’d nicknamed after that very Spice Girls band member.  That’s not why I’d gone to the 99c Store, though.  I live within a 3-mile radius of 6 of their stores so I’d stopped in for a peek and was pleasantly surprised to find baby soft toilet paper selling by the roll of four, Colgate toothpaste, and Irish Spring bath soap by the twos, all for 99c each. 

While Trader Joe’s is still the best store in Los Angeles to buy high quality inexpensive organic foods (and the top place I’d recommend getting your meats, milk, bread and cheese from), the 99c store carries a lot of name brand canned goods and cake mixes, tortillas and personal hygiene items as well as shipments of random fresh produce Saturday and Thursday morning, the overflow produce that the standard grocery stores had too much of in inventory already.  Of course, you won’t find the Kardashian sisters in there as the more wealthy LAites tend to avoid such stores.  But I go there, mingling with the more thrifty (and/or broke) Mexican-American, Anglo Saxon and other Los Angelenos. 

“The Right Store… Now More Than Ever.”  Their timeless yet eerily perfect slogan.  Tonight I plan on a quick stop to pave the road for a refreshing shower.  Hooray!  My glossy red lips will glow in the flame of a heavenly candle with my nose taking in the smell of vanilla, a casual dinner laid before me, followed by a moist chocolate chip cookie while my evergreen herbaceous perennial happily gets its drink on.  Oh, and I can also buy some dish soap, a broom and bathroom cleaner for an extra $3 and clean up my little LA apartment.  I won’t say that it needs it “now more than ever” cause that would be corny and we LAites avoid high fructose corn syrup and other such corn-related items.

Marijuana and Micropenis

// November 22nd, 2009 // 8 Comments » // I Love LA.

Last night after mojitos and cannabis brownies a couple of guy friends and myself got onto a discussion on penis size.  I did not consume the cannabis brownies, by the way.  That would be illegal.  My friend who we’ll call Jari did though, because through the beauty of California law he may consume marijuana legally.  Yep, according to Proposition 215 and California Senate bill 420 as a medicinal marijuana patient he may possess up to 8 oz of dried marijuana as long as he maintains his state medical marijuana ID card.  Which he does. 

“The average penis size is 4 inches.  I remember reading that in college.”  I say.  In my Human Sexual Behavior class I’d learned all sorts of fun things.  “I don’t believe that.”  My friend who we’ll call Jon says.  So I retrieve my college textbook from the place of honor it still occupies on my bookshelf, “Sexual Interactions.”  I leaf through the index, flip the page to  find my place and read aloud “When flaccid, the average penis is about 3.9 inches in length and about 3.75 inches in circumference.” 

“I was talking about an erect penis!”  Jon says.  I scan down the page and read “An erect penis is about 6.3 inches in length and about 4.85 inches in circumference.”  Being a highly visual person myself and understanding that less auditory people need to see to understand I retrieve my measuring tape and measure out 6.3 inches, holding the tape out for Jon and Jari to observe as they continue to sink into the couch cushions.  Neither one seem especially happy to see the measurement which concerns me that one or both of them may have an unusually small member in which case I have just hurt their sense of self esteem and self worth.  Not wanting to be the cause of anyone’s unhappiness or ill feelings towards their body, I search the book for something to make things better. 

I find just the paragraph.  “Medical literature contains reports of men whose penises do not exceed 1 cm when erect.”  I figure there’s no way their penises can be as small as that so this for sure will make them feel better.  “This condition is sometimes called micropenis.”  The smiles lighting up their faces, Jari says “I pray every night and say ‘Thank you God for all your blessings, including my regular-size penis.  Even though God says ‘You‘re welcome but it‘s not quite regular size.” 
Javi bites into his pot brownie.  Which I‘m guessing is delicious.  “Certainly there are no condoms made for someone diagnosed with micropenis.” someone blurts out.  We ponder this for a moment.

“There’s just no way you can masturbate with a 1 centimeter penis.”  I say.  “Yes, you can.  You just flick it”  Jari says as we all burst into sustained laughter that goes on so long it turns into dry heaving.

After an hour of micropenis talk the party breaks up and I fall asleep in my bed happy that I live in a land where people can eat pot brownies, discuss 1 centimeter penises and write blogs creating awareness about the condition micropenis.

Traffic Smaffic Tickets!

// November 22nd, 2009 // 2 Comments » // LA Done Me Wrong

In my infinite wisdom I didn’t take care of my traffic ticket within 45 days.  It was $25 which balLOONED into EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS, twenty days late.  Yep, it went up 3,244% which taught me a two part-lesson I’m about to share with you.  One in procrastination and naivete and another in government retardation. 

At 2:15pm on a random Tuesday afternoon in LA I happened to be headed south on La Cienega, idling at a red light.  I heard a voice as if from the heavens saying “Please pull over to your right.”  I turned my head right to see a police officer on a bicycle poking his helmeted head into my rolled down passenger window.  Knowing I hadn’t broken traffic any laws I wasn’t too concerned.  I was absolutely positively sure I hadn’t broken any traffic laws because I had recently begun driving like a safe old grandmother since, upon evaluating my finances realized I didn’t want to pay for the addditional insurance that would cover my vehicle if I happened to be the driver at fault.  It was an extra $60 per month for my car which is OLD anyway (1998 VW Beetle).  A friend of mine in the same insurance predicament had just totalled her car and now had no money and no car not to mention future astronomical insurance rates.  Taking a cue from her precautionary tale, I’d become a safe, safe driver. 

I pulled over to the side of the road.  Unbeknownst to myself my brake lights were not working.  “Broken brake lights are a hazard to other drivers who won’t know when you’re braking.  They could cause an accident.”  The officer wrote me a Traffic Notice to Appear whereby I had 45 days to have the lights repaired and take the repair receipt to the California Highway Patrol to have it verified.  At that time I would pay a $25 Proof of Correction fee.  As you may surmise, I did NOT do that.

Here comes the lesson in procrastination and naivete.  I naively procrastinated in getting the repair thinking “Oh, if it’s a few days late, it’ll go up to about $80.  I‘ll just wait till I have time to get the repair.”  Paying $80 to Uncle Sam because of dysfunctional brake lights of course would suck but would be my punishment for procrastinating.  It took 65 days after the ticket date (that’s 20 days late) for me to get around to calling, credit card in hand.  WELL, I found out via the automated system its was now up to EIGHT HUNDRED and ELEVEN dollars!  I figured that had to be a mistake until I checked my mailbox later that day and opened a letter confirming that it was no mistake.

Forced to waste my day taking care of this retarded issue I took a bus to the courthouse, since, get THIS:  I also had a HOLD on my driver’s license.  I finally got to the courthouse, spent an hour in line to be given a court date to request the judge to knock down the $811, paid $10 to get the hold off my driver’s license and walked a mile down the road to the California Highway Patrol to have them verify the repair receipt and stamp the ticket.  “We have to see your vehicle!”  What!  “You mean you can’t just do it with the repair receipt?”  Apparently not.  SO, I went all the way home, drove my car back to the CHP and guess what?  I happened to get a different guy who took my repair receipt, took a second to look at it and stamped it, never once asking to inspect my car.  I drove my car all the way there for nothing!  HOW RETARDED. 

So the first part of the lesson I learned is to not naively procrastinate on tickets or a $25 fee can turn into an $811 fine, blistered feet, a hold on my Driver’s License, two trips to the CHP, a court date, and an abundance of inner turmoil.

The second part of the lesson is that absurdly RETARDED government policies and broken tail light cases clog the courts and waste our tax dollars while simultaneously stealing money from citizens.  That one’s more of a statement then a lesson.

I can’t end this blog on a downer, though and there is indeed a light at the end of the tunnel.  In four months if I want a free place to live, free stale food to eat while I make small talk with Seraphina, the Melrose and Highland hooker, laugh with druggies or maybe even fellow traffic citation evaders in County jail, all I have to do is not show up to my court date: “If you fail to appear in court as you have promised you may be arrested and punished by up to 6 months in jail and/or a $1,000 fine.” 

LA is land of the free to go to jail, home of the brave enough to fight to stay out of it.