Sunday, July 29, 2007

The York On York in Highland Park

The York in Highland Park may be the best bar in all Northeast Los Angeles. No, scratch that, in all of Los Angeles. This is the kind of place you find in that other California city up north. The exposed brick and wood beams create a lofty urban downtown feel and I think its the windows opening to the street that really make it feel like a San Fran neighborhood bar. The u-shaped bar is a beautiful beast and like no other bar in town, you feel like you are meant to stay as long as you like because there is plenty of room for everyone. My dirty martini was perfectly dirty and Big D enjoyed a fat tire followed by a pilsner. They have small plates, large plates, sides, and desserts and the food is really good.

Saturday, July 28, 2007

Moving On (Not Me)

My dear friend Bee got offered a new and better position at a school that is so not in Los Angeles. I am thrilled for her but it just hit me today that she will be leaving. We have worked together for five years and have become good friends. She is one of those kind of people that you can count on--and she takes that seriously. She will be moving soon.

Friday, July 20, 2007

There Is A Special Place In Hell For Michael Vick

Michael Vick is a sick disgusting sub-human and so is anyone else who participates in the lowest form of aggression available to man, dog-fighting. Personally, I would like to see him have done to him just a few of the things he did to those dogs, like "shooting, drowning, hanging and electrocution" as stated in his indictment. Furthermore, he shows absolutely no remorse for what he has done only that "he apologized for any distractions the scandal may be creating". In other words, he wants to keep his job at the Falcons and within the NFL. And from what I can gather, he has not even been put on suspension pending his indictment and trial. That is absolutely abhorrent and makes the Falcons and the NFL organization look like they are merely one step above dogfight organizers themselves.

Oh, I found this too while researching this story. I hadn't heard about this one but wow Michael Vick is a skanky SOB.

Thursday, July 19, 2007

A Rape By Any Other Name...

Sometimes I have these little fantasies about buying some huge plot of land somewhere where land is cheap, like the midwest, then I read shit like this...

Have you heard about this? This judge ruled that the witness (the victim) cannot use the word "rape" in court. Not only that, victims of rape cannot use the words "sexual assault" or even "sexual assault kit". This is sooooooo fucked up. Free speech is dying folks and women's rights are going right down the tubes with it.

To help the victims in Nebraska describe their rapes without using the word rape or sexual assault, I give you the following...

-He used his penis as a weapon and violently entered my body without permission.

-He violently used his penis against me without my permission

-He violated my body with his penis

-He robbed my body violently

-He is a sick fucking pig who used his penis to brutally attack me

Well, that's better than calling it what it is, right?

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Introducing Josie

Our family just got bigger. We adopted a puppy from a rescue organization this weekend. Big D found her on on Sunday and we passed our house inspection later that afternoon and then drove down to Carlsbad that evening to pick her up from her foster family.

She is part golden retriever/part German Shepherd. Although, that is just what they tell us and I secretly suspect she might be part horse. Needless to say, she is going to be a big dog. She has a sweet submissive personality and wants to please.

Friday, July 13, 2007

Vacation All I Ever Wanted Vacation Had To Get Away

I was up in Pismo for a few days. Getting a little respite from Los Angeles was long overdue as you may have noticed from some of my recent blog entries. I love the Central Coast for it's laid back beachiness and lack of the SoCal attitude. Two days wasn't long enough. A true summer vacation should be a least seven days but it gave me a taste of relaxation and it was much needed.
You can see more pics over at my flickr site.

Saturday, July 7, 2007

And Now We're Ten Years On...

in Los Angeles. The U-Haul puttered in on the 10 from Vegas ten years ago on the Fourth. Big D always seemed to find that symbolic. I never got it. Still not sure what it all means or if it even should. But I thought it worthwhile enough to mention, so there you have it. Never thought I'd still be here. If you asked me ten years ago as I was unpacking into my bungalow in Los Feliz where I would be today I would have said, or at least thought, some mud hut in Africa or a houseboat on the Huong River.

Tuesday, July 3, 2007

You Can Always Blame the Parents

Despite her immense wealth and privilege, I feel bad for Paris Hilton. She is not entirely a monster of her own making. Certainly, she contributed to her persona, but her parents are there every step of the way. Did they cut off her monthly check when the sex tape surfaced or the tape of her getting high and using the big N? Oh hell no they didn't. And you know why? They are participants in her celebrity. They feed off of it as much as the paparazzi and you and me. Did you see how her daddy jumped the seat of the SUV when she was released from jail so Paris could have the good tabloid view or how her mother rolled down the window so all the sleazy photographers could get their shot in?

An acquaintance of mine taught Paris in middle school. She told to me that at one point during the year, she called Kathy Hilton into a conference because Paris was not doing any work required for the class. She said that Kathy responded that Paris would be making money off her looks and not her brains. And then, at sixteen her parents apparently condoned her moving to NY to be a model. So I believe Paris when she says she wants to drop the dumb blonde act. The problem is that behind the dumb blonde is just another dumb blonde--and she can thank her parents for that.

Monday, July 2, 2007

Two Confessions

I hate the Fourth of July. I hate everything about it. I particularly hate fireworks, stars and stripes paper tableclothes and napkins from Walmart, not to mention red, white, and blue cups, paper plates, and plastic utensils. In fact, the Fourth of July reminds me of Walmart. I hate Walmart. Driving by Walmart gives me a panic attack. Walmart reminds me of the Fourth of July. Crappy beer, crappy bbq, crappy chips, and crappy desserts. I just hate them both-Walmart and The Fourth of July. Does that make me a bad person? A bad American? So be it. I have to be me.

That's Wack!

WACK! closes July 16 so if you haven't seen it yet, you should stop by the Geffen Contemporary in Little Tokyo and see this important exhibition of feminist art during the late 1960's and '70's. I had been meaning to see Wack! since it opened in March but finally had some time off from work (not by choice but by circumstance) and used one of the afternoons off to see this incredible collection of feminist art. I came of age in the period following this group of second wave feminists and looked at these works as ground, the foothold that supports female artists today. In school, we studied these works. We used their language but we questioned and even poked fun at the anger and the frustration--how quaint those pre-global, pre-internet (pre-photoshop) times were! We were the Gen-X third wave feminists tip-toeing across the millennium and we could love our whore just as much as our Madonna because these foremothers had punished themselves enough for all of us and now we were all cleansed and Amen.

But seeing the exhibit and these works as a whole movement rather than selected female pieces was awe-inspiring, difficult, powerful, thought-provoking, and joyful and wrought with pain. This is life and art and the personal was, and I think still is, political. This exhibit argues that these female artists not only influence current female artists but contribute in a profound way to the foundation for all contemporary art, period. No pun intended.

If you can't see the exhibit, you can check out the website:

The only thing that was weird was the high-anxiety guards in the Geffen. They have at least one posted at every corner of the space and they follow you around and kinda stand next to you when you are viewing the work like they are guarding a prison and you are the prisoner who might revolt. It added a very strange touch to seeing this exhibit.