99 Things to Hate About Los Angeles

Post #3: In which I try to control the weather

2010-04-29T23:01:00.000-07:00

If I've learned anything from The Crow -- and I like to think that I've learned a lot -- it's that it can't rain all the time. But, for frick's sake, all I'm really asking is that it rain in Los Angeles.

Just a little bit.

Okay, well it does actually rain a little bit. In fact, this is the greenest I've seen Los Angeles since moving here a few years back. Plus, this year's Spring has been very nice and cool. I really don't have much to complain about.

What?

Then why am I complaining?

Well, save from the fact that I need something to write about, it's just not enough rain. Los Angeles is a city whose population is hovering over 12 million people and it has trouble keeping up with demand. It's just a perfect shit storm that I like to call:

"HOLY CRAP THE WORLD IS COMING TO AN END"

I tend to call it this either very late at night when I'm having trouble sleeping or when I'm really hungry. The latter happens quite often as I let my stomach do a lot of my thinking for me.

Well, most of the time. But, this isn't that kind of a blog.

Here's the various thoughts running through my head that, through magic, create that perfect shit storm I mentioned above:

"It's pretty hot today. Hot and dry. I think I saw a tree wheezing yesterday."
"Jeebus... that smog was thick today."
"It sucks that I have to ask for water at a restaurant. I think automatic glasses of water are going the way of the dinosaurs because everyone is rationing water. This is definitely the beginning of some sort of post-apocalyptic future we will be living in. It's either going to be a Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome or a Waterworld sort of scenario. Either way we're screwed."
"Speaking of water rationing. Why was that city worker hosing down the sidewalk this morning? I thought we were rationing water? What's up with that?"
"Oh my God! Do you think Hurricane Katrina was the beginning of that post-apocalyptic world? It makes so much sense to me right now!"
"Why the hell is the Bay Area getting so much rain? Where's ours?"
"My girlfriend takes really long showers. She's single-handedly causing the drought we're experiencing!"

It's enough to drive someone like me crazy.

I really just wish it would rain a bit more down here. This is beyond my control save curbing my water usage. But, what's a group of people gotta do in order for it to rain? I know that the poor people in the hills are going to experience mud slides galore when it rains, but they're going to experience fires in the summer. So, it's a lose-lose situation for them.

For the rest of us, the worst we have to experience are the crazies whose brain leave their body every time it rai--

*sigh*

I can't win.

Post #2: I declare war on the traffic lights

2010-04-27T23:22:00.000-07:00

This is the Los Angeles patented technique of making a left hand turn:

Position your car into the left hand turn lane (if available).
Wait for light to turn green.
Once the light is green, move your car halfway into the intersection.
Wait for light to turn red.
Make your left turn.

There are some variations upon this rule. For example, if there is a car in front of you, you pray to God that they are aware of the patented Los Angeles technique of making a left hand turn. Otherwise, you're stuck for another light cycle and the good for nothing mother fucker* in front of you that has not moved an inch into the intersection makes the light once they realize that the it's about to turn red. This rule is reserved for tourists and the newly arrived. The latter group will learn this rule very quick.

There's also the Cool Guy Rule. The Cool Guy is the lead car who, once he notices there are other cars behind him wanting to also turn left, inches as far into the intersection as possible as to allow at least two more cars to make the light. The Cool Guy is a legend in his own mind. The other drivers have no time to think about how cool Cool Guy is as they are simultaneously thinking, "Yes! I made the light!" and "Holy shit! ** I hope the oncoming traffic doesn't hit me!"

Sure, there's other odd left hand turn rules across the country. Like the San Francisco left hand turn (three right hand turns, then go straight) and the Boston left hand turn (six rights, a left, a right, run over the pedestrian, four more rights, a roundabout and two lefts), but Los Angeles is the most perplexing of them all.

Los Angeles has very few protected left hand turn signals.

I can't figure out why that is. It's not my position to figure this out, really. I'm just here to bitch and moan about it in the hopes that someone will either have a sympathetic ear or automatically install several thousand protected left hand turn signals over night. Since Captain LADOT is just an idea I have for a comic book, I've come to the conclusion that we're all stuck with the Los Angeles patented technique of making a left hand turn for quite some time.

I do need to at least request one thing from Captain LADOT ("Saving Los Angeles from the nefarious Evil Pothole!") that I think would be beneficial. That is, if the city of Los Angeles is going to install any protected lights at all, could you at least install them at the entrance into a hospital? I only ask this because I split my head open a couple years ago.*** Thankfully, my girlfriend drove me to the hospital as I was trying to stop the bleeding with an Ikea dish town (the best 59 cents ever spent, by the way). We happened to notice that there wasn't a protected light while attempting a left hand turn into Kaiser from Sunset Blvd. Emergencies are kinda important.

Thankfully she already knew the Los Angeles patented technique of making a left hand turn.
---------
* I only curse like that when driving. The term "talks like a sailor" needs to be updated to "talks like an Angeleno in during rush hour."

** See above.

*** I've feared dollies from U-Haul ever since.

Post #1: In which I bitch about Ed Hardy

2010-04-27T22:32:00.000-07:00

Growing up, my parents weren't exactly what you would call poor. By no means were they living off of food stamps, either. My father was an electrician who worked in the very fickle construction business in the Midwest. There were lean times. There were extensive periods of employment. We lived within our means.

We shopped at K-Mart.

My mother attired me in Garanimals and Traxx shoes.

Now, this being the late 70s and early 80s, the concept of designer shoes was a relatively new concept. Nike was founded early in the 70s and, like most events in pop culture, took its time to get to the Midwest. Adidas and the other shoe companies were not as ubiquitous as they are now.

Either that or I was very oblivious to pop culture.

Regardless, my mother dressed me in sensible clothes. Traxx were among the cheapest shoes on market. That was what we could afford. There were other circumstances as well: My parents did not grow up in a society where labels were held in importance as they are now. Also, I was a little boy. I would come home with rips in my pants, not knowing how or when such rips occurred. Like all little boys, I played rough. Traxx were the logical choice.

As my sister and I got older, the concept of the designer shoe took a strangle hold onto society. My mother balked at the price of Nikes. She refused to pay the exorbitant amount that the young upstarts in Portland charged for their shoes and equated it to extortion. Finally, when my sister was "old enough" (thirteen years old) my mother agreed to buy her a pair of Nikes. If memory serves, they were a powder blue pair with a yellow swoosh. 'Twas the height of fashion, y'know.

I, on the other hand, was relegated to what my mother could find at the discount shoe store. I remember the day that we found a pair of KangaROOS that my mother agreed to buy me. Oh, was I overjoyed! Finally, I was able to have my own pair of name brand shoes!

I walked proudly into class that day, knowing that I was able to store anything that did not exceed the size of a postage stamp in the tongue of my shoes. Surely, I was going to be the coolest kid in school!
Unfortunately, the kids who wore Nike (especially those wearing Air Jordans -- screw those guys!), Reebok, Adidas and Puma all thought differently. To them, KangaROOS were the bottom of the food chain when it came to name brand shoes. Even the kids who wore New Balance and Saucony now had someone to pick on.

As the years have progressed, many of us who put so much importance on labels and name brands have since graduated to logic. Personally, I prefer one brand over another because it either (a) looks good on me or (b) feels good on me. Sure, I have my favorite brands of shoes that I will not stray from, but I'm not emblazoning their logos on my chest to show the world that I am a walking billboard.
But, simple-minded folk are simple-minded folk wherever you go. Whether they live in Des Moines, New York or Los Angeles. Some people just like wearing what other people deem as socially acceptable.

This is where Ed Hardy fits in.

The argument can be made that when Christian Audigier first introduced his clothing line based upon the tattoo designs of Don Ed Hardy, it was considered fresh and interesting. Unfortunately, this was a very brief period in history. In the years since its introduction, the Ed Hardy line of clothes has grown to be equated with the simple-minded folks who like to go with the flow.

And, when they go with the flow, the don't go half-cocked. They go full blaze, as if they were in a rocket car speeding across the desert. These people wear their Ed Hardy apparel at the mall, the amusement park and the club. I even once witnessed a whole family wearing Ed Hardy apparel while at the Getty Museum. The wife had the complete outfit: tight jeans with the tiger on her ass; a gaudy shirt; the trucker cap titled sideways; the spiky belt with the loud belt buckle, bleach blonde hair; collagen lips; too much makeup. Their choice in clothing negated what the Getty was trying to accomplish: bringing culture to Los Angeles.

Not only do I take issue with the horrid design found on Ed Hardy clothing, I take exception to the price. That woman's whole wardrobe that day must have cost at least $500. I'm not in a position in my life to buy a t-shirt for somewhere between $100-150 ($50-75 at Marshalls! What a bargain!). Even if I were, I highly doubt that I would waste my money on what I consider gaudy. A fool and his money is soon parted and a lot of fools have a lot of money.

But, they have no taste.

They also haven't a mind of their own.

This is why Christian Audigier is laughing all the way to the bank.

And, it's not going to stop any time soon. Macy's, the department store known for its class and accessibility, now has an Ed Hardy section. Christian Audigier has more money than he knows what to do with. He's also moving into the house that Michael Jackson passed away in. Think about it. He can afford to live in the same house that the King of Pop once rented.

Screw that dude.

Sure, choice number one was an easy target. But, I had to get it off my chest.

If you need further proof that Ed Hardy clothing is not the choice for you, check out this link.