Body shots

It’s been a while since I’ve done a ‘musings on random shit’ post. It’s not due to a lack of material because I’ve had some choice stories fly through my RSS feed. Sadly, I’ve been neglecting my writing since arriving in LA because of more pressing issues — both good and bad, of course. Today I decided it was time to dial up the snark and loosen up the reins. So, while I was browsing the news items earlier, I came across pieces that caused various reactions.

Have fun!

First, I love fashion. It may not look like it by the way I dress, but I admire those who design odd frocks that people want to wear. Wait … wait .. design EXPENSIVE, odd frocks that people want to wear. I understand that most haute couture pieces are works of art. I get it. I don’t admire those who wear these pieces — please. You’re not all that special. Those who deserve props are the designers. After all, they’re the delicate geniuses who came up with the designs in the first place. That, my friends, takes huge cajones.

So, imagine my surprise while I’m listening to the Dead and combing through fashion week photos on the Internets when I spied this lovely humdinger of a dress or … I … don’t … know …

Will someone please remind me to get my high beams checked? Thanks. Come to think of it, it IS a bit nippy outside today. BOO YAH! Does this dress make me look fat? Hey now! Time to pack my hips in ice. Whoa now!  I don’t know what else to say except that boobs are lost on some people.

And this photo reminds me too much of this shot. And no, I’m not cooking meth in my kitchen. Or snorting blow fish, I just have one of those types of imaginations.

Onward.

There are all sorts of fitness crazes out here. So far, I’ve run across the basics like yoga and boot camps, but I’m thrilled to see more and more MMA places joining the fray. Same with Pilates — not the fake, mat Pilates but the reformer, hardcore kind. However, during my travels, I’ve had fliers stuck on my windshield for different pole dancing schools in the LA area. Yep. My car. Not kidding. If the poor sap who’s being paid 8 cents an hour to litter cars with these brightly colored sheets of paper actually saw me, he’d probably run screaming from the parking lot and douse his eyes with bleach the first moment he had… just to get my visage out of his mental Rolodex. Can you blame him?

But I digress. I gotta give these ladies credit. It takes a lot of strength, flexibility and guts to do these moves. Couple that with being all nekkid and greased up, being pawed at by fat, married dudes from Rancho Cucamonga and you’ve got the recipe for major emotional fuckwittery. I’m sure what keeps these lasses going are the bills that get stuffed into their delicates, and the fact they get to wear some choice footwear. However, this little idea some uptight scaredy-twat is pushing inside the Beltway has bummed some of the ladies out big time.

Why didn’t I think of this?  Sometimes I don’t know where my head is at. Most electronic tablets only need one hand to use … yeah, you know where I’m going with this.

Next time I go to Florence, I’ll be sure to hit this museum because sometimes I’m not grossed out enough in my everyday life. Wonder which exhibit I’m speaking of? Here you go. Feel free to read more about it here.

 

 

I spy

I’ve been in LA for about three weeks and much has caught my eye. While most of what I’ve witnessed/experienced constitutes normal differences that are expected between two major metropolitan areas of the US, the stuff that stands out appears to be unique to LA and California.

Food stuff.

Food prices are cheaper out here. While LA is near the top with its astronomically high rents — about twice the national average — food is cheaper than in Chicago. At least the food I buy — mostly fruits and veg, chocolate and panther piss-esque booze. Perhaps that’s because most fruits and vegetables are grown in this state, so the price of transportation, storage, etc. isn’t tacked onto the product. However, residents are zapped for other expenses like transportation (you need a decent car out here) clothing and entertainment. Gas isn’t too bad either, but I’m sure it’ll get more expensive as the warmer months approach and Angelenos emerge from their well-appointed, cozy lairs, don their full-length mink coats (hey, it gets cold here at night! Around 50 degrees!) and get moving. So far, the city doesn’t appear to have its hand out for every little thing, every little service. Of course, I could be wrong. I just haven’t witnessed it yet. In Chicago, it’s a different story.

As for restaurants, there are shitloads of vegan/vegetarian eateries out here. I’ll write more about this at a later time.

In-Your-Face-Nature. A few days ago, mockingbirds woke me up around 3 am with their yap-yapping, trying to be all clever with their mocking ways. This little pest was in the citrus tree right outside my bedroom window and he just … wouldn’t … shuttie. I finally had to open the crypt door and tell Mr. Mockingbird and his cadre to sit down. Did they? Oh for about 10 minutes, yes. But soon they were taking requests and recruiting members of the audience to join them on the branch. I finally gave up and retreated to the living room to read. Seriously though, I don’t mind mockingbirds because they like to mix it up AND they’re sassy as hell. Total brats.

The mockingbird is somewhat of a milquetoast of the fauna I’ve encountered since landing at LAX. The weirdest was the brightly colored snake I startled while leaving my apartment. It was chilling out on my porch, and was gone before I could snap a photo of it. So now I traipse around the outside of my apartment with care these days because who knows if the snake is considering a comeback and moving into my mailbox. Or recycling bins.

The brat of the bird world.

Let’s chat about hummingbirds. A tree in front of my place is festooned with them. They’re everywhere — yesterday I spied a wee nest, not much bigger than my thumb, tucked in the crook of a tree branch. I follow the “No Moleste” mantra of my wildlife loving friends and family, so I don’t gawk and try to become one with the tree to get a better look. Plus, hummingbirds will pull out the big guns to defend their territory and I’m not into getting pelted by tiny beaks. Maybe 20 years ago, sure! But now? Nah. Not so much. I find their frenetic, squeaky speech hypnotic — except when they’re coming after me as I’m leaving my apartment.

So, as the song goes, Let it be.

Beautiful Buteos.

I haven’t spied anything shocking with four legs yet — like a cougar or a woolly mammoth — but once I do, I’ll write about it.

LA is lousy with birds of prey. They’re everywhere. Illinois is too, but it doesn’t have Harris Hawks. Apparently, there is a pair of these hawks living in the hills at the end of my street and like to cause trouble with their tag-team hunting ways. Last week, the pair snagged some sort of varmint and the cacophony of bird squeals and squawks was almost too much for me to take. One of my neighbors informed me that this pair has been here for quite some time and they’re left alone.

That’s a huge relief.

You'd better watch your ass, or we'll git ya.

Cops. Yes, cops. The po-po, fuzz, 5-0, the Men in Blue, donut patrol — or whatever monikers kids these days are giving G-men. I’ve noticed that LAPD officers are in much better shape then their brethren in Chicago. Perhaps the tough fitness requirement the department has for wannabe cops is carried over once one becomes a member of the force. Or, perhaps this is Hollywood and everyone is vying to be the next big thing.  Since it’s alllll about what you look like out here, the need to be attractive no matter what your profession is constant. Also, cops out here tend to become the news. (note: Zsa Zsa’s cop was from the BHPD). The cops trolling my neighborhood are also easy on the eyes — they’re kinda cute in that jack-boot thug kinda way. It’s tempting to get arrested. “Really, Mr. Po-leeece man, you can tighten the handcuffs more if you like … Aaaand your night stick?”

Now I’m done.