Aren’t we taught as children that turtles are slow? When I think about those 4-legged shell dwellers, I seem to remember phrases along the lines of “at a turtle’s pace” and “as slow as a turtle” coming to mind. This being said, I found it interesting when I heard that every Thursday night, a giant group of folks gather in the back courtyard of an Irish pub called Brennan’s to partake in the popular sport of turtle racing.
Thursday night I trekked over to Culver City for a typical evening out. I watched celebrated former Katsuya Chef Kenny Yamada perform magic tricks behind the bar while simultaneously assembling sushi towers for a fabulous pre-fixe 9-course menu. I listened to the tunes of infamous LA party boy BJ Panda Bear spinning from a stylish lounge. I walked around and admired mystical pieces of a rotating collection of art, currently titled Never-ending Story: Fairytale, Fantasy, Obsession. I shopped for authentic Japanese goodies and found things like Hello Kitty dolls that were the last few remaining in a limited edition collection and learned about the craze behind Korean Pullip dolls. I admired oddities such as ice cream cone hairpieces and cupcake rings. I discovered intriguing gift shop gems such as cocaine and heroine salt and pepper shakers. I watched an entire wait staff of bubbly Japanese women wearing traditional maid outfits bounce around and fulfill patrons’ dining orders…all in one place, Royal/T.
Parking tickets are one of the biggest pains in the butt in life. You head to an area with absolutely no place to park, you’re already running late, you circle the block over and over again and finally see a space and frantically pull in. You are so happy that you found a place to stash your car that you don’t stop to read the tiny and super confusing sign designating a street sweeping zone, half a block away. It doesn’t matter if you just got back from a great date, a stellar business meeting, or a relaxing day at the spa; when you walk back to your car and are greeted with that pesky white envelope so lovingly shoved underneath your wiper blades, your brain instantly turns to storm clouds. If you are a resident of Santa Monica and cursed with having to resort to daily street parking, you might want to consider calling upon the Ticket Angels.
In addition to being Derek Smalls of Spinal Tap, Harry Shearer does 16 voices on The Simpsons: Mr. Burns, Smithers, Flanders, Otto Reverend Lovejoy, Kent Brockman, and Lenny Leonard, among others. And besides being one of showbiz’s most accomplished renaissance men, Shearer is also a prolific recording artist who’s versatile on many instruments (besides bass), like banjo and acoustic guitar, and has an amazing sense of humor to back it up. A couple years ago Shearer released Attack of the Bushmen, which featured Bush on the cover, bone slung through his schnozz, and pretty much summed up the tone of the album. This year Shearer released Greed and Fear, which also pokes fun at the country’s current crises, namely the downfall of the economy a couple years ago and the dickheads responsible. Unfortunately there isn’t much on the net besides this, from his last album.
Throw a rock in Hollywood and it will probably land in someones drink. This town thrives on its night life, celebrities and decadent designs. Bardot has a touch of all the above. Nestled cleverly above Avalon, on Vine Street right in the heart of Hollywood, its exclusive entrance and comfortable design make you feel like you are a guest in a playboy’s penthouse. I swung by on Saturday night to see for myself if this upscale club lived up to its blossoming reputation, and have to say I was not disappointed.
Mmm, cake. It’s delicious, it’s moist, it’s chewy, it gives you that rush of sugar when you need a pep in your step, it massages your taste buds with flavor…it puts you in “The Mood”…
Saturday night a huge line formed outside of Kiss My Bundt Bakery as people jittered with the anticipation of sampling mouth-watering and not-so-usual bundt cake recipes, the creation of owner Chrysta Wilson, who grew up in the South where a bundt was practically a member of your family. Wilson has come a long way from the days of a curious youth in North Carolina who would experiment on her Easy Bake Oven. She is now the mastermind behind a multitude of bundt creations, which she shares in her newly launched book Kiss My Bundt: Recipes From an Award Winning Bakery. Among the typical Red Velvet Bundt, vegan treats, and delicious chocolate varieties, Kiss My Bundt Bakery offers some more eclectic flavors such as: Maple Bacon Cake with Maple Glaze (includes actual bacon bits inside and in the glazing), 7 Up Pound Cake with 7 Up Glaze, Mac’n Cheese Baby Bundts, as well as a selection of aphrodisiac-flavored bundts such as Aphrodisiac Cherry Vanilla Almond Cake, and Riesling, Apricot, and Honey Aphrodisiac Cake.
Esotouric, a family-owned company that specializes in touring the noir, crime-ridden underbelly of old L.A., celebrated the 63rd anniversary of The Black Dahlia murder the best way they knew how: with stacks of Krispy Kreme donuts and piping hot coffee. While that may make for a somewhat somber congregation, it also may make you feel like a gumshoe flatfooting his way around the last known whereabouts of Elizabeth Short, the girl who was kidnapped, tortured, mutilated, and bisected before being dumped on a patch of undeveloped land in what would later become a Hollywood suburb.
Walking up to the Egyptian Theater on Sunday would make even those immune to Hollywood’s eccentricities question their current longitude and latidional coordinates. It’s not every day that you arrive to an event and are greeted by flocks of Elvis impersonators and handed an official “King-o” game card. This was beyond the bizarre of the usual chaos of Hollywood Boulevard.
The Hollywood Boulevard photo-expedition started rather uneventfully. True, I was exited to capture this stretch of LA land, as I’ve lived a few short blocks away from here for many years and H-wood holds a special place in my heart– but driving up to the Highland corner in mad Sunday traffic and parking in a mall didn’t have me especially fired up. Then, while approaching Michael Jackson’s star on the famous sidewalk, I realized it was his birthday. This plus a gorgeous Marilyn impersonator complimenting my hair put me in an appropriately dreamy state and, braving the late summer heat, I started making my way down the crowded street.
No matter what time of year, Hollywood Blvd still welcomes swarms of tourists around here, so stopping for photos can be quite a feat. Still, I was having fun swimming through the human soup, poking my lens into shop windows and talking with the locals. Like grandma’s house to us long-time Angelinos, the boulevard might smell kind of funny, but its doors are always open and the museums, masked heroes, countless souvenir joints and tattoo shops are familiar and strangely comforting. Even the hobos possess a certain charm.
What does it mean to live in Los Angeles? Is it fake tans, celebrities and lattes on Sunset Blvd? Is it bumper-to-bumper traffic and smog on the 405 freeway? Is it urban sprawl and high rises and population density? Sure, it’s all of those things, but to Mike Sonksen, AKA Mike the Poet, it’s so much more. Mike loves LA. He loves it so much, in fact, that his recently published collection of poems and his debut spoken-word album both bear the title, I Am Alive in Los Angeles. And as he guides me through downtown LA on one of his urban walking tours, spitting rhymes filled with little-known tidbits and historical anecdotes about our fair city, I realize there’s a big difference between living in LA and being alive in LA, in all of its hot, crowded, gritty glory.