The Most Romantic Robots

There is no basis in nature for rush hour traffic. I can't imagine water buffalo standing around slowly inching forward while they learn Italian on tape. I stare out at all the cars in neat little rows and try to see the people inside the cars, feel their humanity. But quickly they all become hoards of robots. Square villains in my desperate quest to get home. Usually I am numb by the time I get the 101 merge off the 5. A couple days ago I saw something so romantic on that merge, it briefly took me out of my coma.

A red Honda pulled out from behind and white Toyota truck and into the right lane, then the Honda hovered next to the truck for a couple seconds. They gently drifted towards each other and a man's arm came out the passenger side of the truck just as a woman's arm came out the driver side of the sedan. They clasped fingers for a few moments until the flow of traffic pushed him forward and her behind. For that brief moment, we robots had a heart.

You are the Sunlight in My Universe

You know who you are.

Queen of the Hobos and other amusments

I'm back in LA after many weeks in the Pacific Northwest. It is beautiful there, but the air is just too clear and the drivers too laid back. It was nice (?) to be back in a town where you can depend on people to not let you over into their lane.

I have a job as a shopper now. Usually I'm not a big fan of being a shopper, too frustrating. But I do get to see a little slice of life that is not usually offered to me. I was waiting out side the Marshall's Shoe Mega Store this morning. I was in Glendale, so I knew that all sales personel would be on high alert for studio purchases. I was mentally preparing my story about how me and my sister and husband were going on vaction and we needed lots of shoe choices, or maybe my mother is deathly ill and can't shop for herself so I go out and buy her the same top in three colors (with doubles! because she spills). But instead I found that lots of normal people wait outside stores in the morning. What kind of people? I have no idea what kind of person needs to be at a mall on a Thursday morning. But it made me feel good.

As I was on my way in a homeless man bowed to me; sort of like a victorian greeting. This has happened to me a couple times. I wonder sometimes if I am the Hobo Queen.

Mysterious Stenches I Did Not Personally Produce

About two weeks ago a weird hot glue smell started coming out of my car. We (Kevin and me) thought maybe I had run over a plastic bag and it was melting. But no bag was to be found. We looked up "hot glue smell" on google and it suggested I might have a leak of some kind. But there were never any puddles under my car. So, because I need to drive everyday Kevin generously offered to drive me around for a couple days while my car was getting checked out. But before I dropped mad Gs on a mechanic he suggested we take a look in the engine again, just in case that elusive plastic bag was stuck in there somewhere secret. IN FACT! the smell was being produced by HALF A PLASTIC PACKING PEANUT. Those little buggers are truely amazing.

The Things we Drag Behind Us

It was a horrible humid day in LA yesterday. And I was stuck in my car all day on my nightmare hunt for the perfect swatch. But there was an amusing trend on the road. Note the little monster hanging from the bumper of this very fine vehicle. Hilarious! And far better then the giant brass testicles I saw hanging from the bumper of an SUV on La Cienega, or the plush donkey jammed on the tow bar of truck. And to think all I've been dragging behind me is that garbage bag I ran over.

Fake Homelessness

About a week ago a new homeless person set up shop behind the doughnut shop. It's a pretty popular spot and many restless wanderers have set up there. But this girl (?) is different. She has hats in hat boxes and living room chairs. Also paintings. A couple days ago I realized my new neighbor was in fact a transvestite. That's cool. But dude is a TERRIBLE transvestite. I guess you can't be too picky when you are homeless.
BUT THEN I saw her shopping on Sunset as I walked down for my monthly comic book fix. Who is this lady of the street? I'm starting to think that she is faking it as an artistic statement. BOO ART.

I apologize to art.

cellphone dance

Gin juice

Last night, me and the old man went out with some friends to the Cicada Club. For those who haven't been, or like me, haven't even heard of it, it is a club down town with a live jazz band every Sunday and vintage attire is required. Freaking fabulous. We were out danced by everyone but an extremely old couple who may in fact remember when the building had been the tallest in LA.
There were three high school kids dressed in full WWII dress uniforms. They were totally picking up chicks. FABULOUS.
Also the old orange dress was put to non-prom use. It fits much better now than it did in High School. Thank you boobs!

While we are on the subject

LA can be a pretty lonely place. Especially if you spend a lot of your day in your car. I myself, on bad days, like to narrate my escapades like a sports caster ("aaaaaannnndddd....she makes the merge! Just squeaked in there! Barely room for a wheat thin between her and that '86 Accord. This broadcast brought to you by Wheat Thins!").
And today I saw something that warmed my lonely heart. There is a homeless man that lives on Sunset in front of the Food 4 Less. He sits there with his shopping cart full of bags and stares out at the cars as they pass by. But today he leaned over and put something in his bottle of water. It took me a second before I realized it was a magic grow animal. He was growing himself a friend, or perhaps just basking in the glory that is magic grow. Either way, it made me smile.

Paper friends

It's been a long week. Never again will I book two jobs for the same week. Well, that's probably not true, but I'm not gonna do it for a while.
I spend a lot of time in my car. A LOT of time. And like most people in L.A. I try to stitch together my sanity while sitting in traffic. I do this by forming interpersonal relationships with the billboards I pass on my drive. "But, Rachel," you say, "It sounds like you are sinking deeper into insanity. You're not keeping it together at all."
Well you don't understand what me and the giant breasts on the Travel Channel billboard have. I can't really explain it but when one of my regular billboards is changed (like the Ciroq ad at 6464 Sunset that became a SIMS 3 ad) I feel like one of my co-workers has been fired. I used to see that 15 foot P. Diddy everyday on my way to work, and now he's just gone. And I didn't even get so say good bye.

Let's all hang out at the Chemical Plant

Today I had to return a fishing vest to a Sports Authority. (Damn you Sports Chalet, and your anti-fishing stance!) And the nearest one was in Burbank (sad face). The silver lining was that I got to use the ancient Thomas Guide that was left to me by my Grandfather. Dana (my boss) gave me the address and according to my 1991 Thomas Guide, instead of a mega mall a chemical plant sat at 1900 Empire Ave. And it made me sort of sad. I love factories. And as much fun as I had running around TARGET-Greatland (truly one of the largest TARGETs I've ever been in), I now have some unresolved romantic feelings towards that demolished chemical plant.

Also check out these dudes hearding sheep XTREME!!!

Yes you on the treadmill

When you are at the gym I am watching you. Don't be self conscious. Hardly anyone will hear about how you re-adjusted your sweat pants lower and lower after every set of crunches. I will tell no one about the tattoo that you have on your pubic bone. And I will keep all these secrets, Mr. At-the-gym-at- 1:30-in-the-afternoon because you are the reason I keep going back.
Who knows, maybe one day I'll come up to you and tell you how much I like your dance routine on the treadmill, and I would not want my loose tongue to keep us from being the best of friends.