On Pretending To Be Tourists To Photograph Tourists

Sometimes I have what I guess are unusual ideas. Nicci was telling me a few days ago that when she's not working, she gets bored. In trying to be a good partner, I quickly rattled off a list of things one could do that would instantly cure their boredom. I told her she could choose a random friend and follow them around for a day (you know, like spying?) to see what they're up to. I told her to think of a place she wanted to go (like a bookstore or a music store) and then use the Internet to find one she hadn't been to that's at least twenty miles away from the closest location. I told her she should dress up like a tourist and go to Hollywood and Highland, but instead of doing touristy things she should just snap photographs of the real tourists. Then I thought -- what a minute, that's a fucking incredible idea -- I want to be a part of it. Yesterday we both had the day off from work, so we decided to go through with the plan.

The preparation was simple. I put on a pair of ten-year-old Abercrombie & Fitch khaki shorts (which were originally packed with my belongings in an attempt to appease my mother, who said I couldn't move to L.A. without a pair of shorts), a collared t-shirt, and sandals. I removed my glasses, as they are a pure "L.A.-er" giveaway. I tried to style my hair, but there isn't really much I can do with it. Nicci wore her own pair of touristy shorts, a plain green t-shirt, and styled her hair into some sort of hairspray-enriched "Midwestern sorority girl" coif. We created names and backgrounds for ourselves. She was "Kourtney" and I was "Christopher", and we were from Evansville, Indiana. We met at at fraternity/sorority function at Indiana University. I beat her sometimes. The hardest part was trying to perfect our dialect. I wanted to speak like a sixty-five-year-old dock worker from Chicago, which she said was "too much". Try as I might, I sounded like a fucking retard, saying things like "yous", and using D's instead of T's in words like "this" and "that". I tried to tone it down, but she thought I still sounded like a jackass. Having taken classes in speech and accents and dialects before, Kourtney had the Midwest dialect down (bland, soft vowels), but I think she was still afraid to use it.

Our first stop was Pink's Hot Dog Stand (La Brea & Melrose), because that's where all the tourists go for lunch. Unfortunately for us, I hadn't been there before, so I was a bit too excited about the hot dog to worry about photographing our compatriots in line. Although, I think I learned a lot from the married couple standing next to us, as the husband (who was wearing the best "tourist" pants ever) and wife spent the entire time bickering. I tried to use it for my character, but instead I just wound up saying things to Kourtney like, "I swear to God, I'm going to punch you in the face." Then she'd smile and say, "Oh, Christ-a-pher" and kiss me. Being a douchebag frat boy is awesome.

It took almost an hour to weave our way through the line, but the horrible family in front of us and the two East Coast muscle-head assholes behind us provided enough giggles as we whispered to one another in character. Finally we reached the end of the line, and placed our orders. Honestly, I can't remember if Kourtney ordered in character or not, but I forgot. She ate a Lord Of The "Rings" hot dog (onion rings and barbecue sauce), and I had a Nacho Cheese Chili Dog with bacon. Sweet, sweet bacon. After spending an hour in line, we ate our hot dogs and were back on the road in less than ten minutes.

The next stop was Hollywood/Highland. The epicenter of the tourist universe. The Chinese Theater is there. The Walk Of Fame runs through it. The Kodak Theater. People trying to make a buck dressed as famous celebrities, movie characters, and completely useless, unidentifiable dolts. The tourists arrived in great numbers. There were Asians everywhere, as well as contemplative Red State-ers, and skanky bitches who wanted to pretend they were L.A. natives. Our techniques for obtaining quality photographs varied. Sometimes I would say, "Get a picture of me here!" while standing in front of a particularly awesome-looking tourist. Then Kourtney would shoot over my shoulder. Other times, we pretended to look at already-taken pictures, while actually framing and shooting new pictures. Sometimes, we boldly just aimed the camera and fired away at people without care. And yes, we snapped photographs of people snapping photographs, just to be meta. We had to take fifty or more photographs, but here are some of the best:

You can always spot a tourist by their camera, which has an obnoxiously-long lens (or by their backpacks). You can spot a young Jewish girl because she's trying to look like Natalie Portman in Garden State. Also, tourists always try and see if their hands are bigger than their favorite celebrities.

Children are an easy way to target tourists. They run like the wind, and always come with a set of parents (unless one died prematurely or cheated on the other). Tourist children dress in an understated, "please don't abduct me" fashion.

He's trying to fit in by wearing a USC baseball cap, but look closely and you'll see that this gentleman is stepping off a StarLine "tour the homes of the stars" bus. Total giveaway that he's a tourist.

You can always tell a tourist by the way they try to look like they've lived in Los Angeles their entire lives, or by the luggage they are dragging behind them.

Although he might look like the contestant from next season's "American Idol" who is too old to be competing, but eventually turns into a fan favorite, this guy is actually just another tourist coming out of the Virgin Megastore. What's in his man purse, you ask? Why, it's the new Dave Cook CD!

Speaking of the Virgin Megastore, we stopped in for a few minutes so that I could pose with a copy of "The Hipster Handbook" (turns out I'm not a hipster -- phew!), and model off the new Paris Hilton clothing line.

Plain and simple: black people love Elmo, fat Latino children love McFlurry.

This series is called "The Fight". It captures a boyfriend and a girlfriend trying to solve a problem (it's probably sexual -- I think I heard her say something about dating a white penis is supposed to feel better than dating an Asian). To best capture these three photographs, we utilized the "Aye, Kourtney, take a picture of me standing here" routine. You can see perfectly over my shoulder as the struggling tourist couple solves their problem (I think I heard her say something about his agreeing to penis-elongation surgery).

This douchebag has the complete package. He's got the collared shirt, the greasy hair, the khaki shorts, and he's texting somebody on his phone. The giveaway that he's a tourist? It's either the clean white shoes, or the fact that he's positioned himself right next to a parking cone that is almost as tall as he is. A Los Angeles native would ever diminish their stature like that, because we all know the basics of art direction and production design.

When a tourist sees that there is a television program filming live, they are always quick to document their experience "on set". Ooh, look at me, I'm talking like a real TV industry insider! (Note: Nicci and I were asked to be a part of the program "10 Years Younger", but while she wanted to, I declined the offer. Do I regret not agreeing to be on television while dressed like an asshole, and speaking with a horrible accent? No.

Look! She's just like us! Even Marilyn Monroe takes the bus back to Reseda after a hard day's work.

Holy shit are lesbian tourists an easy one to spot.

Hmm...tourist, or Angelino? It's hard to tell. His sunglass-wearing, open-shirt "just don't give a fuck" attitude says Angelino, but if you look very closely, you'll see that his leathery-faced wife is holding a shopping bag alongside her purse. No Los Angeles native would ever be caught dead shopping at Hollywood/Highland, so this couple are definitely TOURISTS.

These gays came to Los Angeles expecting round-the-clock parties, great E, and maybe a sexy closet-case white boy to add to their Latin sandwich. Unfortunately, all they found was a case of the sleepies! Look at that gay. He's all tuckered out.

Flower Travellin' Band - Unaware
Cactus - Parchman Family
Pere Ubu - Beach Boys
Montana Hornet - Organ

"Oxbow is a long-lived Avant-Garde band out of San Francisco, California notable for a unique sound. Oxbow plays a blend of Noise Rock, Experimental Jazz, Musique Concrete (AMG), and Blues, creating soundscapes caustic, or plangent, with overtones of paranoia, revulsion, exaltation." - Wikipedia

"What came out of Eugene's body the night we played with Oxbow in France was definitely not crap! I believe it is called jiz." - Matt Kadane

I don't know the first thing about Let Me Be A Woman, other than I found it for $5 at Amoeba last month. Apparently it is a long out-of-print CD that was recorded by Steve Albini in 1995, and released on Brinkman Records. The insert includes lyrics and musical notation. I always knew Eugene Robinson was a wordsmith, but I don't think I'd ever read his lyrics until I found this CD. Beautiful stuff. The music is standard Oxbow fare, mixing the above-mentioned genres into a sound entirely their own. It's a gas, man.

Oxbow
Let Me Be A Woman
MediaFire Download Link

Tracklist:
01. Sunday
02. Gal
03. The Virgin Bride
04. 1000
05. Me And The Moon
06. The Stabbing Hand

Tags: Hollywood, Highland, tourists, photography, Virgin Megastore, TLC, 10 Years Younger, Pink's, Hot Dog, stand, Los Angeles, Walk Of Fame, Kodak Theater, Oxbow, Let Me Be A Woman, mp3, blog, download, rare, out-of-print

Boy Blunder Brought Back: Day 9

Thank you, Mike.

Thank you for working on Wall Street, and for having a corporate AMEX card.

Thank you for being a bored husband with a wife waiting at home while you're out on the town.

Thank you for being susceptible to the charm of young women.

And most of all, thank you for footing the $1,000+ bar tab we ran up this evening.

Yes, you read that correctly. We somehow managed to run up a tab that totalled over one thousand dollars, in the span of maybe two hours. How did it happen? You're going to have to wait to find out.

I awoke at 6:00am this morning to the sound of dripping rain smacking against a loose piece of siding outside my bedroom window. I don't remember exactly what I was dreaming (though it was probably something extremely depressing, like one of my recurring dreams where everybody I love turns their backs on me and I die), but at some point a character in my dream began hammering a nail into a very large piece of wood that was shaped like my head, and before I knew it I was awake and listening to the rain pelting against that fucking piece of aluminum siding. God, what a fucking annoying sound. I rolled out of bed, slid over to the window, opened it, and kicked the screen three stories down to the ground below. Then I stuck my head outside and started banging on the window's aluminum frame until the hammering sound subsided. Then I closed the window, grabbed two tissues to jam into my ear holes, and crawled back into bed. I slept soundlessly for another three hours before I officially woke up.

I actually showered today. It had been a few days since I remembered showering, and with friends expecting to hang out and interact with me all day, I figured I would reward them by not smelling like a dirty, homeless piece of shit. I ate a mini bagel and downed a diet soda before my sister drove me to the PATH station.

I spent my entire day buying CDs and LPs to resell on the Internet. If my calculations are correct, the $100 I spent today should net me roughly five-times that amount once everything is sold. Of course, there's no guarantee that will ever happen, because I don't really think anybody buys music anymore. Oh well, maybe somebody will prove me wrong.

Since I spent all day on my phone typing UPC codes and ISBN numbers into Amazon's website, my phone battery was down to one blinking bar at 4pm, so I decided to call it quits and turn my phone off for a while. Before that happened, I talked to Z and told him to meet me and hang out for a while until Ian got off work. Z and I met at Kim's and walked to Chipotle where we shared an order of chips and two sodas. He seemed in good spirits, and we discussed work and our social lives. He asked if I wanted to go to K-Mart to help him buy a fan and a bath towel(?), and once that was done he headed back to his Brooklyn apartment to shower and change out of his work clothes. I headed over to Other Music and then walked to Ian's apartment in SoHo. I stood around waiting for him for twenty minutes. It smelled like rat poison and garbage.

We ate dinner at Arturo's (coal oven pizza, oh my God was it heavenly), and then met up with Jon before hopping on the subway and going to the Ginger Man. The first person I saw was Anthony (of Hype Machine fame), sitting outside talking on his Blackberry. We greeted each other and walked into the obscenely crowded bar. My sister and her friend were already inside, seated at the bar with a crowd of older men in suits surrounding them, clamoring for their attention. I asked what the fuck was going on, and she said something about how they were buying drinks. Did I want a shot of Patron? I said sure, and the next thing I knew I was holding four shots in my hand. Apparently the suits were paying for it. I asked for a beer (Rogue Shakespeare Stout on tap!) and got that too without paying. I took two shots and gave away the other two. Z showed up, Nat showed up, Zoya showed up, Mike (not pictured: me, drinking a shot from Mike's crotch) and his girlfriend showed up, and Bret (pictured here with Ian, who seems to be having a great time) showed up. The next time I saw Elissa, there were a dozen shots sitting in front of her on the bar. I grabbed two, then two more, then two more and returned to the table where my friends were seated. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the free tequila. The next time I went up to the bar, there was one guy standing next to my sister and her friend, and another dozen shots sitting in front of them. Maybe it was the same dozen...who knows. The two girls introduced me to their Asian banker friend, and all I could think to say to him upon hearing his name (Tony) was, "Do you have an iPhone?" The two girls yelled at me and told me to go sit down, but I made them give me two more shots and another beer (Captain Lawrence Brown). That's when I realized the girls had taken the AMEX card of one of the bankers and pocketed it. One of the banker guys caught on and took the card away from them, but when they asked him for another round of shots he put the card down on the bar and reopened the tab. Before leaving, I had another two shots and an Ommegang Chocolate Indulgence courtesy of a guy who introduced himself as Mike. Mike offered to take my sister and her friend to a hotel room for the night, which is when they decided we needed to leave as soon as possible. Once he offered to shift our tab over to his, we realized we were free to leave. According to my sister's friend, his bill was $742 and change, and our bill was between $150 and $200. Mike took care of both, and supposedly left a generous tip. He then posed for a picture and we darted off into the night.

It took forever for the PATH train to arrive. It was quite sobering to wait around for it. The drive home was quick, because the girls wanted to hit another bar on the way back to Livingston.

What a night.

Swervedriver - A Change Is Gonna Come - (buy this album)
Teenage Filmstars - Soulful
Pere Ubu - Humor Me - (buy this album)
Leadbelly - Good Morning Blues - (buy this album)
The Books - Bonanza - (buy this album)

Tags: Wall Street, AMEX, cheating husband, bar tab, rain, PATH, Pavonia/Newport, Academy CDs, Academy LPs, Kim's Underground, Other Music, Chipotle, Amazon, Arturo's, coal oven pizza, Ginger Man, Rogue Shakespeare Stout, Captain Lawrence Brown, Ommegang Chocolate Indulgence, Patron, tequila, iPhone, Livingston, Swervedriver, Pere Ubu, Leadbelly, The Books, mp3, blog, download, travels, photography

Boy Blunder Brought Back: Day 8

And on the eighth day, I rested.

I've been back East for seven days, and until today my schedule was packed tighter than an Asian's pussy with appointments, people to see, and things to do. Today was the first chance I had to just relax and take it easy. The only problem was, I thought I was going to need my father's car to get around town today, so I had him wake me up early so that I could drive him to work and take the car. I soon realized that my mother was not working today, so I could have slept in and used her car. Once again, I wasted an opportunity to get a full night of sleep.

I had a bagel for breakfast. Fuck, these local bagels are so much better than anything I've consumed in the last year. I want to freeze them all and bring them back with me so I have something delicious (and free) to eat for the next few weeks when I return to Los Angeles. I'm not kidding, LA Jews have no idea how to craft a tasty bagel. After my bagel I drove my sister to the mall so she could make some makeup appointment and shop around for a bathing suit. I think there was another purpose for our mall visit, but I cannot remember what it was right now. I'm tired.

After a few hours of relaxation, I got a call from Ken asking if I was ready to drive him, Alex and Adam to the airport. I picked him up from his house (he even remembered to give me the special packaging we ordered for the Obscure References CD-r's, the doll!), threw his suitcase in the trunk, and headed for Alex's house to meet him and Adam. The three of them were being flown to Amsterdam to perform with a Jewish-themed band at some sort of children's festival. The main personality in the band was that MILF I mentioned the other night, whose CD is pictured several entries below this one (the bagel CD/jewel insert design). We sat and chatted for a few minutes, and then drove to the airport. Ken slipped me $20, which I thought about taking to the liquor store, but decided to stick in my pocket for safe keeping. I returned home and picked up my sister and father, and the three of us had dinner at a diner in the town where my father works. It was good.

More relaxation after dinner, as Ken was gone and Jack was busy with one of his wink-wink meetings. He swung by to pick me up at 10:30 and we drove to Borders to look at some books, but I refused to purchase anything. He bought a book on becoming a movie producer. He then dropped me off at home, and I watched "Top Chef", like a total fucking loser.

I would not say that today was boring, but it certainly was not my least busy day yet. At the same time, it was the most vacation-like day I've had yet, because it was completely unstructured. I think I'm better off not scheduling my life, because even if I plan something cool and exciting for myself I always dread going through with it as the event approaches. I'm not sure what that says about me other than I'm probably really lazy...but it's certainly a weird trait I have. Nevertheless, I'm quite excited about tomorrow night's planned drinking excursion in the city. I've spoken to ten or fifteen friends who have sworn they would stop by to pay their respects to me on my last real night on the town before my flight. I'm sure there will be lots of pictures to share then. Speaking of which, Lindsey and Sam sent me a few pictures from the other day, so if you've noticed some links to pictures of me in this paragraph, those are what you're seeing.

Stereolab - Harmonium - (buy this album)
St. Louis Jimmy Oden - Going Down Slow - (buy this album)
Derek Lamb - The Money Rolls In - (buy this album)
Spider - Midnight On The Nile - (buy this album)
Jerusalem & The Starbaskets - Fields and Strings

Tags: appointments, relaxation, tired, bagel, Los Angeles, Jews, Newark Airport, Amsterdam, MILF, liquor, Top Chef, Borders, boredom, life, lazy, flight, pictures, Stereolab, St. Louis Jimmy Oden, Derek Lamb, Spider, Jerusalem & The Starbaskets, mp3, blog, download, photography, travels

Boy Blunder Brought Back: Days 6 & 7

Apologies for not writing a second entry last night, but I got kind of drunk and was too tired to type. Ken and Jack procured a bottle of vodka and two six packs of beer, which the three of us worked our way through while watching the Mets lose to the Dodgers (ugh). We were joined by Matt, and the four of us decided to shoot some pool with the remainder of our evening. By the time we were kicked out by an angry old man guard, we were in varying stages of intoxication. Someone (Jack?) thought we should watch Planet Earth, so I tried to get the program to display on the HDTV, but for some reason it wasn't broadcasting in high definition. I think we missed the entire program due to my constant attempts to fix the television. I even went on the computer and tried to download a manual for both the TV set and the remote control, but nothing worked. This morning I found out I downloaded the french version of the manual. Whoops, I guess I was pretty drunk after all.

I awoke relatively early (again!? AGAIN!?) this morning to shower and dress for a day-trip to Allentown, Pennsylvania. The goal was to visit some old friends from college, explore the campus, and -- most importantly -- eat at Wegmans. I also decided to stop in at Double Decker to see if their ridiculously good vinyl selection was as great as I remember it being.

The drive from Livingston to Allentown was nothing new. I've made the trek several dozen (if not a hundred) times before, so I was pretty much in cruise control the entire time. I don't have the names of all 50+ Interstate exits and all the overpass street names memorized anymore, but I still remember some of them. The bunny bridges in Summit looked more overgrown than ever. Route 78 was lush and green, but certain stretches of land actually looked more like they would in Autumn than Spring. Nevertheless, it's always nicer to drive surrounded by electric green trees and bushes than it is barren skeletons of trees.

Before hitting Wegmans I drove through the park, made several stops at my old college campus to see various former dormitories and apartments, the house on Gordon Street where I once lived (which has since become a frat house, ugh), pretty architectural achievements, the new class buildings they've constructed, and even the dorm where I lost my virginity...when I wasn't even officially enrolled in the school! Don't ask me how that happened. Bad memories.

I actually improvised an original song as I pulled into the Wegmans parking lot. I was that excited about having lunch here. Screw the friends and catching up and trying to relive old times, I was only interested in two things: eating a buffalo-style chicken finger sub, and finding out what the current price is of burgandy truffles. The sandwich was orgasmic. They've definitely switched the spicy buffalo sauce that they dip the chicken strips in, and it tasted as good if not better than I remembered. As I ate, I kind of zoned out and watched people shopping below. I don't remember hearing a single topic of conversation. I guess I'm kind of a dick, but whatever, it's fucking WEGMANS.

By the way, the truffles are up to $999/lb..

After a few heartfelt goodbyes, I drove downtown (lock your doors!) and over the bridge to reach Double Decker. I spent far too long in the store, studying every imaginable section. I managed to keep my bill under $100, but not by much. I had a brief chat with the owner of the store about how great his selection was, and he actually recognized the name of my store and mentioned that he's purchased items from us before. Small world!

The drive home was with without incident. Again, I was on auto-pilot as I raced through a tiny sliver of Pennsylvania and a chunk of New Jersey. I arrived home in time to watch the Yankees lose, the Mets lose (ugh!) and drink more vodka with Jack and Ken. Are you seeing a routine develop here?

After today's little "whoops!" at the record store, I came home and decided to put a few personal items (not like underwear "personal," but items that held significant meaning to me at one point in my life "personal") up for auction on eBay. As always, if the winning bidder for any of the items turns out to be a Swan Fungus reader, I'll include a free blog-related surprise with whatever item you win. You can view my current auctions here. If you're feeling generous and want to donate some money to my website without the hassle of bidding on an auction, keep in mind that every penny of your donation goes towards my getting drunk and blogging about how good the beers I drank were. Where else on the Internet can you happily give money to somebody you don't know and really know that your cash is going to a specific cause? Nowhere, that's where. VIEW AND BID ON MY AUCTIONS!

Until tomorrow...

Harvey Milk - The Boy With Bosoms - (buy this album)
Godz - Alone In Regret - (buy this album)
Leannan Sith - Turn On The Moon
Rolf Harris - Sun Arise - (buy this album)
Miles Davis - Vote For Miles - (buy this album)
Les Rallizes Denudes - Enter The Mirror

Tags: vodka, Mets, Dodgers, HDTV, billards, pool, Planet Earth, user's manual, Allentown, Pennsylvania, Muhlenberg College, Wegmans, Double Decker, Route 78, Interstate, sandwich, burgandy truffles, vinyl, mp3, blog, download, Harvey Milk, Godz, Leannan Sith, Rolf Harris, Miles Davis, Les Rallizes Denudes

Boy Blunder Brought Back: Day 5

I awoke to the sound of my alarm clock as it struck 9:00am. Last night was another night of deep, dreamless sleep, only without the benefit of awakening refreshed and ready to greet the day. Although I longed to roll over and return to wherever the fuck my consciousness escapes to when I sleep, my desire to keep all the plans I've made this week got the best of me, and I instead rolled out of bed and threw on some clothes. My mother yelled to me from downstairs to declare she had made breakfast for me, and asked if I wanted a glass of orange juice to go with the french toast she prepared. I quickly consumed one and one half pieces of the battered and fried bread, then grabbed my camera and ran to the car. I actually left at the exact time I was hoping to leave (10:00am). That almost never happens...because I'm always too early for everything.

Getting to the Parkway and driving south to Route-1 was just as I remembered it. Several landmarks pointed the way further south, and many new landmarks were identified. I gleefully recognized the adult bookstore, the AIM uniforms store (what is that place, where you buy outfits to sit in front of your computer and talk to friends online?), the huge bowling alley, the Skylark diner and more. Several new shopping centers have sprung up on both the north and south sides of the highway. One of them contains a Chipotle, but more on that later...

I got to Sam and Lindsey's new home in exactly one hour. Their directions were precise. I was greeted first by the two dogs, Brutus and Scooby, then Sam (who gave me a scintillating man hug), then Lindsey (who gave me a run-of-the-mill girly hug). We stood around their living room for a few minutes chatting, then they gave me a tour of the house. It's much nicer than their old apartment, and they've done a great job decorating and filling the rooms with various oddities. While Lindsey drove to Starbucks, I sat down with Sam in one of the house's two studies to work on an audio/writing project he's been working on for some time. He asked to record my voice reading the parts of two characters in two different stories, so we breezed through a short recording session before Lindsey returned. I think I did alright. I warned him right before I started my first piece of dialogue that I was a little bit dyslexic, but he didn't seem to mind. He also didn't mind when I had to repeat lines due to my missing words, jumbling the order of words, or losing control of my voice (it might have cracked once or twice). When the project is done, I'm sure I'll be writing more about the labor of his love.

Starbucks coffees were consumed, and then we left for Princeton. We were out of the store in about an hour, which is probably a record for my shortest visit there. Still, I found some interesting records (Laibach, Foetus) and some CDs I can resell at a modest profit. We decided that we'd go to eat at Burrito Royale, since Sam and Lindsey had never been. As we drove north on Route-1, their excitement was palpable. I listened to their stories about how every time they drive passed the location, the restaurant is closed. I tried to feed their giddiness with statements about the awesomeness of their burritos. Of course, as we approached, we realized that it was closed -- again. Those poor kids, I really hope they try again one day this week during regular dining hours. Burrito Royale is pure gold. Pure edible gold.

So, we headed for Chipotle. It was yummy, as you might expect. Seeing as we were traveling further north on the highway, we decided that instead of returning to their house, we'd just drop by Vintage Vinyl. I found a few more CDs to sell there, and a Burzum LP to help round out my otherwise black-metal-less record collection. As we got back in the car, our conversation somehow shifted to Nintendo, and I discovered that not only did Sam and Lindsey move into a new home, they furnished it with a Nintendo Wii. Having never seen one before, I decided that I'd stay longer and play some of the games I keep hearing about from everyone who cherishes the Wii. First, we stopped at Wawa for some snacks. I couldn't get the hang of the baseball game, but eventually beat Lindsey in a close 1-0 game. Then she kicked my ass at bowling, and then I beat her at tennis. See mom...all those thousands and thousands of dollars you spent on clinics, private lessons, personal trainers, coaches and summer programs didn't go to waste!

It was starting to darken outside, and my phone was dead, so I decided to high-tail it back to my current former address (yes, I just used the expression "high-tail it"). I almost fell asleep behind the wheel while on the Parkway. That could have sucked. I arrived in one piece, and quickly called my old friends Matt and Evan to stop by my house. Apparently they were getting pretty drunk at the local TGI Fridays. I don't think the three of us had been in the same room together for almost five years. Still, it was as if we'd never moved across the country, moved back, gotten jobs (well, Evan has a job...), or anything that could possibly make once strong bonds between friends feel awkward. "It was just like old times, we were dressed like new times," to quote my old Livejournal. Upon cracking open beers, we decided that tonight would be the night we finally figured out how to get rich together. The three of us spent the next several hours taping our conversation so we wouldn't forget all our amazing ideas. Jack, Ken and Katie showed up at some point, and a short while later I noticed we'd started listening to Razorblade Suitcase and playing Nintendo. Yup, it was beginning to look and feel like "1996 Night" in my old, childhood bedroom. Everyone looked and sounded jovial. Even me (I'd make an "out of the closet" comment here, but, well...you know).

As the clock struck midnight, people began to sober up or grow tired, and they all left. As we all hugged goodbye, more plans were made to continue our work on making millions of dollars. I don't know if I'd call them "plans," per se, because all we really decided was that since Matt and I are Jewish it was time to claim our birthrights and become mega-rich movie producers. After all, isn't it the God damned right of every fucking Jew on Earth to break into the industry?

Tomorrow is another busy fucking day. I'm really beginning to take exception to my inability to schedule some time to just fucking relax on the couch and watch TV. I feel like I'm constantly on the move, which seems impossible without my own car, but somehow I've been up early every morning and keeping busy to varying degrees (from very busy to super busy) until the wee hours of the morning. In an e-mail statement made earlier this evening, I wrote that I somehow managed to get better, longer nights of sleep when I'm in LA than I am on this vacation.

Blues Magoos - (We Ain't Got) Nothin' Yet - (buy this album)
Blues Magoos - She's Coming Home - (buy this album)
Grails - Clean Living - (buy this album)
The United States Of America - Cloud Song - (buy this album)
The United States Of America - Hard Coming Love - (buy this album)

Tags: vacation, travels, photography, french toast, orange juice, New Jersey Parkway, Route-1, New Brunswick, Starbucks, Princeton Record Exchange, Princeton, Laibach, Foetus, Burrito Royale, Chipotle, burrito, Vintage Vinyl, Nintendo Wii, baseball, bowling, tennis, Wawa, TGI Fridays, get rich quick, Nintendo, NES, Razorblade Suitcase, Blues Magoos, Grails, The United States Of America, mp3, blog, download

Boy Blunder Brought Back: Day 3

It began innocently enough. I awoke to find Annie Hall on my television, and the sounds of rushing cars on Walnut Street filtering through my bedroom windows. It was 11:00am exactly. I slowly composed myself and decided that I would spend the day at my mother's house (100 yards down the street). My sister was sleeping in my father's room across the hall, with our dog curled up next to her. I asked if she wanted to lend me her car for a few hours, or should just walk to the other house. She said she would drive me, because there was something she needed to do there, too. As it turned out, what she needed to do was sit on her ass and watch TV all day, but that's besides the point.

There was a bowl of fresh chili waiting for me in the fridge, so I ate half of it with a plain bagel for breakfast. Oh man, you wouldn't believe how delicious the bagel was. I've missed the New York / New Jersey bagel like you wouldn't believe, and now I am convinced that I will be returning to LA with at least a dozen of them, to be frozen and enjoyed over the course of the next month or so. The chili was also good, but that will be devoured long before my week here draws to a close.

I showered, as I am wont to do, and dressed myself in my Friday best: jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt, a hoodie, and the exterior of my old winter jacket. I figured that would be enough to keep me warm on a 50-degree evening. At 4:30 I began my voyage to meet Ian in the city so we could attend tonight's Yankees/Mariners game. The original plan was for me to drive to Jersey City, park and take the PATH into Manhattan, walk to his apartment, and then travel via 4-Train to the Bronx. This didn't even remotely come close to happening, because there was no parking in Jersey City, and the public lot that used to serve as a back-up to street parking has apparently been closed or re-appropriated for residential use only. Instead, I had to drive directly to Ian's apartment.

Having not driven in New York in over a year, I was a bit nervous about not being able to find my way, but it was actually quite easy to locate and navigate my way to where he lives. I found an incredible parking spot, and sat in my car waiting for 6:00pm to roll around so I could leave the car without any fear of being ticketed. Ian called five minutes in front of six to ask where I was. When I told him, he said he was walking towards his apartment and would be happening upon my car momentarily. I looked out the window into my side mirror and there he was.

He looked good. Not in a gay way, of course, but in the way that a man will sometimes compliment his male friend who has been living healthy and trying to better himself through diet and exercise. You know what I mean. We walked fifty paces or so to his apartment, and he showed me exactly what four-times my monthly salary affords you as far as real estate in SoHo is concerned. We took his dog for a short walk, took a shot of $150 bourbon (that's not a typo), and walked to the train station.

It took far too fucking long to reach Yankee Stadium. Ian figured that Justin was going to get angry and enter the stadium without us, and once a voice announced that there was train traffic holding up our trek to the stadium, he started to really worry Justin would grow tired of waiting for us. Exiting the train onto the platform afforded me my first glimpse of the new Yankee Stadium, which is being built across the street from the old one. I don't watch a lot of Yankees games -- because I hate them -- but I hadn't seen any photos of the stadium prior to my seeing it for the first time today. This is entirely different from the Mets situation, where Citi Field is being bit almost right on top of Shea Stadium. We met Justin right outside our gate, and entered together during the top of the first inning.

The game was alright. It was fucking FREEZING in the upper deck where we were seated. No amount of cover could protect me from the elements. My West Coast life has absolutely spoiled me in that anything below maybe sixty degrees is uncomfortable and irksome. From about the fourth inning on I was constantly watching the clock to try to calculate when the game would be over. I tried to grin and bear it, but by the 9th inning when the Yankees tacked on two insurance runs, I was ready to get the fuck out of the Bronx and start drinking somewhere warm.

We wound up back at Ian's after the game, sharing a bottle of Dogfish Head Black & Blue (which tastes heavenly, by the way -- it is a must if you like Dogfish Head beers, a golden Belgian-style ale made with over 300 pounds of fresh blueberries and blackberries) and listening to records while watching the conclusion of the Mets game on TV. There was talk of plans for tomorrow as well as later in the week, so this will certainly not be the last you hear of my exploits involving Ian. Speaking of which, has anyone else noticed that all three nights home have included drinking in varying degrees? I wonder what that says...

Until tomorrow, when I'll once again try really hard not to forget the stupid fucking camera again!

Tags: Annie Hall, New Jersey, chili, bagel, Los Angeles, PATH, SoHo, Manhattan, drive, Holland Tunnel, 4-Train, Bronx, Yankee Stadium, bourbon, baseball, Yankees, Mariners, Citi Field, freezing cold, West Coast, uncomfortable, wind, drinking, Dogfish head, Black & Blue, Mets, television, beer, mp3, blog, download, travels, photography

Boy Blunder Brought Back: Day 2

Hello readers, Evan here. My first full day back in suburban New Jersey was an eventful one. Of course, I didn't actually lay my head down to sleep until well after 4:00am East Coast time, and I was awoken by a phone call at 9:45am, so I've been (understandably) tired almost all day. Things started out normal enough. My mother picked me up and drove me to the Department of Motor Vehicles so that I could renew my driver's license (though I am a California resident I am not a domiciliary, so I've retained my NJ driver's license). That went relatively quickly. We both thought the DMV was the perfect setting for a comedy sketch due to the hilarious attitudes of those in charge of inspecting each person's six points of identification. One woman was constantly berating everybody who sat down across the table from her, and at one point we were pretty sure gunshots would be fired or a strangulation might occur, but the police officer on duty actually managed to quell the violent uprising. That might sound way more intense than the actual event, but I tell you it felt as if I was sitting in a folding chair in the middle of the O.K. Corral waiting for bullets to start whizzing past my ears.

From the DMV, we drove a few miles down the road to the Millburn Diner. You might recognize Millburn from one of two places: my yellow and red Millburn recreation soccer t-shirts, or that scene in Wet Hot American Summer where the nerd with the 20-sided dice says, "Excuse me, ladies. You may remember me as the guy who came to dinner a few weeks ago with underwear on my head. My name is Keith Stat from Millburn, New Jersey. State bird, the mosquito. And as you may have heard I am recently a crowned class B dungeon-master. So if any of you would like to play D&D today, please speak now or forever hold your peace." At the diner, my mother and I were joined by my old boss, who I (obviously) hadn't seen in over a year. I ate a three egg omelet with three cheeses, a side of three buttermilk pancakes, and breakfast potatoes. I also tried a new food today, tuna fish. It was salty and tasted "fishy". Upon returning home I commandeered my mother's car and returned to my father's house to feed and walk the dog. My father (the workaholic) actually decided to take a few hours off this afternoon to spend time with me. Together we fought about his losing my backup glasses, then drove to Denville or Dover or somewhere to get me a new pair of glasses. His fault. I was still sufficiently stuffed from the eggs and pancakes, but upon leaving the opthomologist's office we decided to drive to South Orange for all-you-can-eat sushi at Haru. They've raised their prices for the all-you-can-eat menu $4 per person since I left home. I skipped that and ordered steak terryaki, but I had a piece of salmon, an order of age tofu, and half of a California roll. It was damn good. My father and his friend Bernie each packed away between thirty and forty pieces of sushi. Fucking gross.

After dinner we returned home, and I got a call from Elissa saying she wanted me to meet her friend Liz at a bar in town. I've never liked going to the local bars, but she sounded really depressed so I figured I would do her a favor and go hang out with them for a few minutes. When I arrived at the bar, it felt as if neither Elissa nor her friend (who supposedly took off work just to meet me) were interested in my presence. Plus, one of the old instructors from the golf range was there, drunk off his ass, and decided to play "remember the time..." with me. That's my least favorite game ever. My sister was seated next to two girls who graduated in my high school class, but the three of us did not so much as acknowledge one another. It's a shame too, because of the girls I thought had a good chance of murdering her vagina with my penis (via repeated stabbings) back in my school days, but nothing ever came to fruition. Maybe she too remembered our brief romantic dalliance and was too embarrassed to say anything. I drank a Makers on the rocks and watched the Yankees lose to the Tigers. Then I drove home and watched LOST and drank a beer.

Ken, Katie and Jack showed up after the television program ended. We played loud music for a few minutes, and then I looked at my watch and realized it was 1:30am and we probably shouldn't be playing so loudly. We walked upstairs, two beers in each hand, woke my sleeping sister from her slumber, and chatted loudly about various topics while listening to crazy/hilarious Jew music (written by the MILF Ken and Alex are going to Amsterdam with) and watching snippets of The Shining until I could no longer keep my eyes open. Then I walked upstairs and sat down at the computer to write this. Now I'm going to brush my teeth, unfurl my dick and go to bed.

God am I drunk right now.

By the way, this is the greatest CD tray and disc art I have ever seen. If I were to record an album, the CD would look something like this:

Tags: New Jersey, suburbs, East Coast, phone call, tired, Department of Motor Vehicles, DMV, license, renewal, identification, violence, Millburn Diner, Wet Hot American Summer, eggs, Denville, Dover, glasses, Haru, South Orange, Japanese cuisine, sushi, teryaki, Sports Bar, high school, Maker's Mark, LOST, beer, television, loud music, Jew music, The Shining, mp3, blog, download, travels, photography

Laundromats, The Desert, A Gay Western Bar: My Time In Palm Springs

Today I had my first foray into the world of commercial real estate. I was scouting locations for a new laundromat. It wasn't something I up-and-volunteered for (okay, I guess it was), but I received two free meals for my dedication to the project, and got to visit Palm Springs, which I've dreamed of visiting ever since Bugs Bunny took a vacation there at the end of Daffy Duck's Quackbusters.

The plan was simple. Wake up early, head east on Interstate-10 and stop at five or six potential properties that could potentially become profitable laundromats. While one or two locations were new developments with available space, most of our destinations were laundromats that were in trouble of failing in the near future. I guess the company responsible for setting up this expedition buys failing laundry businesses in somewhat depressed areas and remodels or reforms them in order to somehow reinvigorate the business.

The first location was a recently-closed auto parts store in Ontario. I soon learned that auto parts stores and laundromats are somewhat synonymous in low-income neighborhoods. It's pretty shitty how these developers have in-depth statistics on household incomes, and choose ones where the majority of the population live below the poverty line in order to set up their business. Furthermore, they see no problem in opening up a brand new, high-end business on a street where a lower-end business already exists and completely blowing them out of the water. For example, on this street in Ontario, there was a classic-looking laundromat three blocks away from the location we were scouting. No one cares whether or not that location has been servicing the community for decades, if this new site could make big bucks, fuck the smaller, less upscale business. I guess that's the nature of business, though. And that's why I work at a record store. I'm not cut-throat enough to survive in the business world.

There was a Church's Chicken across the street from the possible future home of the laundromat. It reminded me of Lindsey's directions when I was leaving her and Brian's house in Saint Louis two years ago: When you pass the first Church's Chicken, you're okay -- the highway entrance is just beyond it. If you see a second Church's Chicken, turn around and get out of there as soon as possible.

Before leaving Ontario, we had to drive each direction for 1.5 miles to what the competition would be for a new business in the area. This is where I learned a great deal about scouting locations. Pretty much every other stop we made along the trip, I had valuable contributions to make when it came time to write down our notes on the different laundromats we visited. Whether it was in reference to in-line versus end-cap location, anchoring businesses, surrounding areas or the types of washers and dryers at the site, I was able to successfully size up a situation on my own. In fact, I was trusted to scout one or two locations all by myself. That felt pretty cool.

The second location was maybe twenty miles further down I-10 East. There was already a laundromat in this shopping center, but the company was planning on buying the entire strip, which includes a hearing aid store, a Mexican restaurant, and a liquor store that sold some sweet beers, including Avery The Czar and two other Avery beers. Unfortunately, it would have been unprofessional to buy beers at 11:00am on the middle of a somewhat business-oriented trip.

Somewhere around here we stopped for lunch. Persian food at a tiny restaurant in a strip center. I'd never eaten Persian food before, but I stomached it and even enjoyed it. Shish Kabob, basmati rice, a char-broiled jalapeño pepper, and flat (or unleavened?) bread. We ate quickly, then returned to the Interstate.

The third site was in a completely depressed neighborhood. I don't want to say the name of it, because I don't want to spoil the site for the company if that means it's a good place to start a new business (it doesn't make sense to me why, but I'm no investor or commercial real estate baron). It seemed like every single store on the main stretch was closed down and abandoned. Houses were tattered. There was a cool-looking old inn that was decrepit and falling apart. There was a nice theater. There was even a used video game store that specialized in Nintendo and Super Nintendo games. I'm pretty sure it was a front for some seedy drug trafficking business, but it was pretty cool to see a store that sold old Nintendo games. Anyway, that site was nice, except there was a large tree blocking the sign for the laundromat.

Twenty more miles down the road we entered the Palm Desert. There were two locations to scout within a few miles of each other, so we were able to complete our scheduled tasks at a reasonable time.

From there it was time to explore Cathedral City and Palm Springs. We stopped first a small shopping center with a movie theater and IMAX, where we stretched our legs and walked around for five or ten minutes. At the center of the small district were lush greens and a fountain where children played and ran under the various water spouts. I ran under a few of them as well.

The road into Palm Springs was impressive and scenic. The chain of mountains that seemingly ran parallel to the Interstate for hours now rapidly encroached on the car, until we were driving along the base of enormous cliffs. The trees were plentiful and vibrant. Palm Springs itself is a bit weird. It feels like a retirement community. One of the three people we talked to echoed that sentiment, saying it was something of a haven for very old people to vacation or retire. On Thursday evenings, a section of Palm Canyon Drive is closed to traffic. A fair of sorts takes over the street, with plenty of fresh foods, artwork and music. It's a nice communal affair. I loved how the musical acts were taking themselves so seriously, even when they were performing less than ten feet away from fucking donkey rides. There was nobody even remotely as young as us in attendance, but it was cool to experience nonetheless. The highlight of the fair was definitely the "Ask The Rabbi" booth. My natural tendency to speak with strangers compelled me to stroll up to the rabbi and ask him, "What is there to do in Palm Springs?" This question confused him, and he responded by huffing and pointing out the flurry of activity that was occurring around us. In turn, I decided to rephrase my question, and asked, "No, no, I mean...like, where are the batting cages?" He gave exact directions to the batting cages, and then asked me if I knew it was Passover on Saturday night.

"I did know that, but I have to work until 8 on Saturday. Plus, I haven't Seder'd in a very long time."

"You should come to my house, and join me for Seder."

Oh man, I know it seemed funny when I decided to ask the rabbi about batting cages, but now this had gone too far. I found myself involved in a very touchy conversation about serious matters with someone who I didn't really want to offend. I somehow -- very tepidly -- tip-toed my way through the remainder of the conversation, and I don't think I made him feel too bad about my attempt to make a joke out of his presence at the fair. If he did, I guess I'm going to hell. But then again, I don't think Jews believe in hell.

Before leaving Palm Springs, we needed to visit the casino across the street from where we parked our car before heading to the fair. I contemplated gambling all the contents of my pocket ($25) at the $5 blackjack table, but decided against it when I remembered just how poor I am. Tom was feeling much more daring, and decided to gamble the entire contents of his pocket ($5). He got blackjack on his first hand, and after a few more hands decided to exit the table up five bucks. All in all, it was a good trip to the casino. I only lost $1 to a slot machine.



Before finally returning to LA, we needed to go to the rabbi-recommended batting cages. His directions to a place called Boomers were perfect. But, unfortunately for us, the rabbi didn't know that the batting cages at Boomers were closed two years ago because too many kids were breaking in after hours. Instead of driving home depressed, we decided to eat dinner at a pizza parlor across the street from the supposed batting cages. We parked and began walking towards the restaurant, when we noticed that there was another place upstairs that appeared to have outdoor seating. It was called Sidewinders. We climbed the stairs and opened the heavy wooden door. We walked inside and noticed a large bar that stretched across the majority of the space. Country music oozed softly from the PA speakers. There was a line-dancing class taking place on a small dance floor. I searched the walls for a menu while Tom hung around near the bar. When I grew tired of searching, I started back towards the door. Tom soon appeared around the corner and said, "I don't think they have any food here."

We walked down the stairs, and Tom said quietly, "I think that was a gay bar." At that moment, I realized that as I was watching the line-dancing class, I remarked to myself that there were only men partaking in the class. I guess I just figured they were doing it to impress their wives. Tom then said he realized it was a gay bar when he noticed all the photographs of shirtless cowboys behind the bar. I didn't even notice. Our theory about Sidewinders was confirmed by the pimple-faced kid who took our order at the pizza place. We were equally amused and embarrassed.

Dinner was good. We had a beer, watched Baseball Tonight in the company of fellow heterosexuals, and then drove home to Los Angeles. Now I'm sitting and watching some stupid program on the Preview Channel. Nicci loves these trashy TV shows.

Tags: Palm Springs, Daffy Duck's Quackbusters, Interstate 10, Ontario, laundromats, Church's Chicken, shopping center, liquor store, Persian food, mountains, depressed neighborhood, old theater, Cathedral City, mountains, Palm Desert, Palm Canyon Drive, street fair, Ask The Rabbi, batting cages, casino, Boomers, Sidewinders, gay bar, drive, road trip, Dead Child, Peter Moren, Lightnin' Hopkins, Smithsonian Folkways, mp3, blog, download