Friday afternoon musings
My cat, like most cats, loves tuna. She'll even settle, gleefully, for the water we drain out of the can. However, she won't touch the tuna water from our current stock of Costco tuna. I offered her an actual chunk of fish from it on Wednesday, and she still wouldn't eat it.
This begs the question: what the hell noxious preservative/fungicide/urine is Costco putting in its tuna that makes even a fat housecat turn it down?
***
I was driving home from Hollywood today through the nebulous part of La Brea Ave that I think is called "Mid-City." It's not The Ghetto, but it's urban and definitely not pretty. And what do I see, but an LAPD officer mounting a horse.
The cop and his horse then stood patiently at a busy intersection, in front of a chain link fence covered in fliers advertising hip-hop CDs, gazing in the direction of a strip mall. It was one of those moments I wonder if I'm having an acid flashback, until I remember I've never taken acid.
***
I was at a free concert last night, and since it gets semi-chilly on the oceanfront at night, I was wearing a sweater. Specifically, a purple turtleneck from the first Bush administration. The friend I was with pointed out that I wasn't getting many handouts (people always troll these concerts passing out flier for club dates, poetry readings, political protests, etc.) The flier people passed me by, I figured, because I looked like a tool. Meanwhile, my friend got handouts for a strip club, and griped that he seems to get more of those than other men. (Because he looks like a fratboy.)
Later, we discussed how the jeans-'n'-tshirt, "As long as I'm comfortable I don't care" philosophy was getting harder to maintain. Physically comfortable is beginning to sometimes equal socially uncomfortable, he pointed out. (Or, as another friend once observed, "There's a line between 'casual' and 'hobo.'") He chalked this up to us being in our late 20s and feeling pressure to look/act "adult." Or, we might want to blame LA, the most superficial city in the US.
I've been wondering lately whether I'm growing up/old gracefully enough. I want to be a cool old lady someday, but I don't want to be this guy. Regardless, maybe it's time to get rid of any clothes I wore in high school.
But, to the guy in the bar on Wednesday who told me to "lose the polo shirt:" no freakin' way I'm taking fashion advice from a grown man in red velour.
My cat, like most cats, loves tuna. She'll even settle, gleefully, for the water we drain out of the can. However, she won't touch the tuna water from our current stock of Costco tuna. I offered her an actual chunk of fish from it on Wednesday, and she still wouldn't eat it.
This begs the question: what the hell noxious preservative/fungicide/urine is Costco putting in its tuna that makes even a fat housecat turn it down?
***
I was driving home from Hollywood today through the nebulous part of La Brea Ave that I think is called "Mid-City." It's not The Ghetto, but it's urban and definitely not pretty. And what do I see, but an LAPD officer mounting a horse.
The cop and his horse then stood patiently at a busy intersection, in front of a chain link fence covered in fliers advertising hip-hop CDs, gazing in the direction of a strip mall. It was one of those moments I wonder if I'm having an acid flashback, until I remember I've never taken acid.
***
I was at a free concert last night, and since it gets semi-chilly on the oceanfront at night, I was wearing a sweater. Specifically, a purple turtleneck from the first Bush administration. The friend I was with pointed out that I wasn't getting many handouts (people always troll these concerts passing out flier for club dates, poetry readings, political protests, etc.) The flier people passed me by, I figured, because I looked like a tool. Meanwhile, my friend got handouts for a strip club, and griped that he seems to get more of those than other men. (Because he looks like a fratboy.)
Later, we discussed how the jeans-'n'-tshirt, "As long as I'm comfortable I don't care" philosophy was getting harder to maintain. Physically comfortable is beginning to sometimes equal socially uncomfortable, he pointed out. (Or, as another friend once observed, "There's a line between 'casual' and 'hobo.'") He chalked this up to us being in our late 20s and feeling pressure to look/act "adult." Or, we might want to blame LA, the most superficial city in the US.
I've been wondering lately whether I'm growing up/old gracefully enough. I want to be a cool old lady someday, but I don't want to be this guy. Regardless, maybe it's time to get rid of any clothes I wore in high school.
But, to the guy in the bar on Wednesday who told me to "lose the polo shirt:" no freakin' way I'm taking fashion advice from a grown man in red velour.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<$I18N$LinksToThisPost>:
Create a Link
<< Home