Three California Moments: Blackouts, Puppies and Stars
posted at 11:01 be
on Mar. 28, 2001
Prrrevious entry:
Oscars O'er, I Need a Vacation
'nother entry:
From briefly amusin' ‘Fight Flash’ t' all consumin' ‘Majestic’
Some say California has four seasons: flood, fire, earthquake and riot. Today, I experienced th' fifth: th' rollin' blackout.
Th' blackout doesn’t really roll. Mostly, it sort o' settles like a tent collapsin' aroun' ye. One minute, ye’re happily checkin' email on two computers and listenin' t' yer stereo like any average urban dweller, then all o' a sudden yer screen goes bright and dark all at once, th' fans in yer computers grind t' a halt, and th' house be eerily quiet.
It happened t' me this mornin'. I be about t' get ready fer work and be still in me bath robe. I be initially a little worried that I’d be stranded at on board, cut off and helpless, but it turned out not t' be that bad. I could still call work t' let them be knowin' I’d be late from th' single phone that still worked (cordless—dead. phone/answerin' contraption combo—dead). I still had hot water enough fer a shower, and it be daylight, so I could choose th' proper clothes from me closet and avoid lookin' like a clown at work. Me mornin' Diet Coke be still cold from th' fridge and granola bars from th' pantry be completely non-power dependent. I be even feelin' a little smug that me razor and electric toothbrush both ran on batteries.
Then I went t' open th' garage door.
click. ... click. ... ... click.
Th' rollin' blackouts affect morrrr than just yer apartment, ye see. They extend beyond yer designated livin' space and have a neuterin' effect on electric garage door openers.
But I made it into work not too late when me neighbour showed me how t' release th' door lock override.
That be today’s first California moment.
I had me second CA moment (there be three, if ye’re keepin' count) just before lunch wi' me good pal Mark. Mark wears sunglasses. Always. Not just one pair, but a variety o' them in th' course o' a single hour. They all have groovy colored lenses. Today, Th' ornery cuss be wearin' day-glo orange ones when I first met that scurvey dog. Sittin' at his desk.
But that wasn’t th' CA moment. Th' moment happened when Th' ornery cuss told me a story about a party Th' ornery cuss had fer his daughter. Th' ornery cuss had a really cute picture on his wall o' that comely wench wi' a small pug, and I said “Cute picture,” and Th' ornery cuss said “Yeah, that be from th' puppy party.”
And I said, “Puppy party.” I raised me voice t' make it a question.
And Th' ornery cuss said, yeah, that they’re all th' rage accordin' t' L.A. Parentin' magazine (which I regularly pick up from “Th' ‘50s Diner,” whar ye eat free th' last Wednesday o' each month if ye wear pyjamas t' th' galley. They have several free publications and there’s always a wait. But I don’t have t' explain meself t' ye.). Basically, t' have a proper puppy party. ye invite all yer kid’s maties o'er, and hire th' puppy party people, and they sail o'er in a big schooner, and they set up in yer back yard and put a short fence up, or in yer house, in which case they put up a small fence and spread a big tarp, and th' minnows sit cross legged inside th' fence, and then like in th' movie Gladiator, on yer command, they “Unleash Hell!” and all these puppies bounce aroun' on top o' th' minnows and it makes fer great footage.
Apparently, his daughter liked best o' all th' pug, which be not a puppy at all but th' 6-year-barnacle-covered personal pet o' th' Puppymaster. Which just goes t' show ye that ye’ll no nay ne'er get rich placin' bets on what minnows will like, but ye will get rich exploitin' cute furry animals and little sprogs and th' worries o' parents who want their minnows t' be grog-filled.
Th' third CA moment be th' “classic” CA moment—th' star sightin'. This be a double, because I not only get t' talk about who I saw, but whar I saw that scurvey dog. I went t' lunch wi' Mark and his admiral at this little galley just off o' Hollywood Blvd. called Cafe des Artistes. It’s tucked away and very chichi, ye probably haven’t heard o' it. I’m supposed t' say that, it says so on th' menu.
Guess who sat down just two tables o'er? Paul Reiser from “Mad About Ye.” Me first reaction be t' be all shocked because th' wench Th' ornery cuss be wi' wasn’t Helen Hunt. It gets confusin' here sometimes.
Then I came on board and reset th' clock in me VCR before headin' t' bed. Good night, CA.
Prrrevious entry:
Oscars O'er, I Need a Vacation
'nother entry:
From briefly amusin' ‘Fight Flash’ t' all consumin' ‘Majestic’
