Road Rage
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
I.
HATE.
DRIVING in LA.
Hate is not a word I use lightly. It's a very strong word. It's an ugly word. I don't like to be a person who hates. Ever. It's not healthy for a person to hate...it takes too much energy. And the truth is that I don't actually think I hate driving in LA as much as I hate DRIVERS in LA. But I DO hate drivers in LA.
Lately I've felt road rage at uncanny levels. It just happens. I'm driving along, minding my own business, listening to NPR when some total and complete ASS turns me into a hater. It's not even in my control. My blood pressure skyrockets, my face turns red, I feel my body getting hot and I want to SCREAAAAAAAAAAAM at the moron/jackass/idiot/stupidfreakingLOSER who must be so miserable in his or her life (and I don't mean to discriminate, but I've noticed that they are often of the male persuasion) that he doesn't have the wherewithal to let a person who has been clearly signaling into their lane. When traffic is barely moving. And there is a space. In fact, some of these imbeciles seem to speed up the second you start to pull into their lane and then lay on the horn as though you are endangering the lives of others and pulling into a lane where people are going 60 miles an hour when in fact they are going a whopping 10 miles an hour and can easily slow down to 7 or 8 when they see another car needs to make their way in. Why? Why would a person be such an ASS????? (and yes, I know I've already used that word on SEVERAL occasions but there's really no better description for this kind of human being.)
I can't possibly do justice to the scenarios I've encountered so I'm not going to try. But there have been far too many of them. I have found myself feeling road rage on a daily basis. Perhaps it's has to do with the fact that the TV season is up and running and I'm not just driving to work but also to breakfasts with agents and from studio to studio to visit sets. I'm in the car more. Which I suppose, gives me more opportunities to be around jerky drivers.
I miss the days of walking 10 blocks to a meeting. Even if it was 20 below and raining. I felt more secure that I wasn't going to be hit by some jerk as I weaved my way around the crazy cab drivers of NYC than I do on the roads of LA. And while I occasionally got annoyed with the tourist-y pedestrian traffic of Times Square, I'd take it over the losers on the 101 any day.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 12:53 PM 1 comments
Labels: driving, LA rant, laws of the road
We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Program...
Monday, August 25, 2008
There's more Burma Boy to come but I have something else to say which hasn't been a common occurence lately.
Just back from a weekend in Chicago to visit two of my good friends from college and meet their babies. It was way too short but great nonetheless as I held my own with the babies (not always the case which is why it heeds mentioning) and picked up with my friends as though we'd seen each other yesterday.
But what truly bears mentioning is this: I miss a city. Yes - I miss THE city. (And if you have to ask which city....ummm hi...check out the name of my blog). But just...in general...I miss a city. LA just doesn't pass for a city. It's one big sprawling suburb after another, interconnected by highways and long ass streets that span miles and miles and miles. You could fit all of Chicago and New York in the "city" of LA and I think you'd still have room for Boston. Something about a street that packs houses and townhouses and apartments and brownstones one on top of each other, almost like sardines, just feels right to me. Building up makes sense. I like being that close to my neighbors and knowing the owners of the restaurants in my neighborhood. A "neighborhood" in LA spans blocks and blocks and yards and houses with a shop or a restaurant thrown in for good measure except for on the major streets where you will constantly see cars circling to get a closer parking spot. And on more than one occasion, I've witnessed a drive from Fred Segal on Melrose and Crescent Heights down the DVF at Melrose and La Cienega...That means nothing to you? Take a look:
View Larger Map
See what I meeeeeean??
In NYC or Chicago, or even Boston, the fun is in the walking, the perusing, the people watching on the streets. The stores are more boutique-y and less trendy, the sidewalks more user friendly. We walked a block and a half to dinner at a fabulous Italian trattoria last night, en route passing no less than 10 other options for eating and drinking and had the stores been open, I would have stopped in every single one. When I walk up my street, I see houses.
This is why I get excited going to Montana Avenue in Santa Monica or Abbott Kinney in Venice, a little bit on Larchmont (at least as far as the stores go) or 3rd street. But I couldn't make a day out of any of those places - a few hours and a meal, tops. And they always have to be a destination. I think that's what I miss the most. I like the whimsy of NYC and Chicago and Barcelona and Florence. The ability to walk out your door, head down the street, and just see where the day takes you.
In LA, it simply takes you to your car.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 10:07 PM 1 comments
Labels: driving, LA rant, travels
and the #1 reason to leave LA....
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Forget the vapid people, the stupid entertainment industry, the absence of fall, winter and spring. Forget the dearth of fabulous restaurants, the 5+ hour flights, the number of hours I spend in a car.
Earthquake outshines all these other reasons to get the hell out. It's moved to number one on my list.
A 5.4 earthquake to be exact.
I think it's time to move back east.
Someone please be kind enough to explain to me how a CONCRETE structure can sway like it's a kite, blowing in the wind?
I do not ever, EVER in my life need to experience another earthquake. EVER.
NYC...you're calling my name more and more every day.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 12:37 PM 3 comments
crosswalks and other things
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
I feel like ass today, so why I'm choosing to blog is sort of a mystery to me...but I feel like I've been neglectful as of late. This is partially due to the number of papers I have had to write for my interior design class. I just finished my third. After I finish an 8-10 page paper, I can tell you that the last thing I want to do is write some more. It's also partially due to the fact that in the pasta month, I have been away for 3 out of 5 weekends. In fact, since 2008 started, I have been gone for at least one weekend a month, often two. Most of the time for fun...but also most of the time including flying back east. So while the fun is fun...the flying...starts to take it's toll.
I was in NYC last weekend. It was totally overstimulating between the reason I was there (my grandmother's unveiling), seeing "Sunday in the Park with George" (to which I need to devote a whole entire post...), seeing "Sex and the City" in New York City (to which I will need to devote yet another post), and how upset with myself I got every single time I got to a cross walk and looked for the button to push to change the sign to walk. (For those of you not aware, this does not exist in NYC. This only exists in LA. I am a NEW YORKER!!!! AAAAAARGH!) I'm sure the last of that list is what has my brain feeling as though it's swimming in a sea of sludge right now. I'm sure it has nothing to do with taking a redeye in on Friday night and a 7 AM flight back on Monday morning. I'm sure it has nothing to do with not wanting to miss anything or anyone - so spending time with friends and family and seeing theater and rarely sleeping and overthinking the 3000 miles away that I am while yet another one of my closest friends gives birth. No, it's entirely about the crosswalks.
But then, I guess it is about the crosswalks. The crosswalks are a function of the rest of it...aren't they? The crosswalks are the reason I don't get nearly enough time with the people I love. The crosswalks are the reason that I'm not there for the babies. The crosswalks are the reason that I have more frequent flier miles than any person not flying for business should have.
Happy Wednesday. Let's hope that tomorrow my brain makes it way out of the sludge.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 12:27 PM 1 comments
Labels: daily, LA rant, NYC, travels
I don't do lines
Friday, May 2, 2008
I don't do lines. And btw, I'm not talking about grocery store lines or movie lines. I'm talking about get into a club for an acquaintance's birthday party line. Call me what you want - a snob, stuck up, a bitch (I call me smart)...but I don't do lines.
Tonight I went to STK for said acquaintance's birthday. Oh - and click on that link to be officially disgusted (when you get there, click on the STK link). I can save you a trip if you'd like. First you'll see a woman's calf so defined (by photoshop clearly) that you might want to puke. If that doesn't do it, your gag reflex will definitely kick in when you see the piece of raw meat hanging off a captain hook hand. Next up is the picture of bright red lips bighting into a chunk o' filet. This is supposed to be sexy by the way. Lastly is the lovely shot of the spike heel digging into the bright red bloody beef. V. I. L. E. And I like a good steak. But seriously? This is revolting.
Oh and also, did I mention I had dinner here on Tuesday night? And it was actually surprisingly good. After seeing the website I was highly skeptical but I ended up being pleasantly surprised. So when I was told to "swing by" said birthday party I figured why not? I had no idea that STK had an entirely different section that is a bona fide CLUB. Yes I'm TOTALLY out of the loop. Entirely.
I should have gotten the hint when the valet line was 10 cars long. But I just figured I was dealing with a bunch of lazy ass people and found myself some street parking. However, when I walked up, it was like I was at an entirely different restaurant than I'd been to on Tuesday night. That's because I was no longer at a restaurant. In true LA nightclub fashion, I found myself surrounded by women plastered in makeup, wearing heels too high for them to walk in, leaning on the arms of men pretending to be more important than they are. I bypassed this scene and headed into the restaurant, certain that there must be some sort of mistake. I pushed my way past paparazzi standing like vultures awaiting the possible prey that might come out of one of the aforementioned cars valeting.
In the safety of the restaurant, I called my friend to see where they were. I should have known I had it all wrong since my husband couldn't hear a word I was saying when I'd called him earlier. (Why wasn't I with him? I had a dinner party with some work colleagues earlier in the evening and agreed to meet him there after. Huge mistake. HUGE.) So I tried Amy, only to find that she couldn't hear me either. She said something about looking for me on the patio. And I turned around to come face to face with a patio resembling a sardine can. I knew I was not going to be a happy person, but still...I opted to give it a shot. I went up to the guy at the patio entrance and told him who's birthday I was there for.
"There's a guest list at the front door."
A GUEST LIST? FOR A BIRTHDAY PARTY? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???
I walked back out past the vultures and took one look at the slew of people lying in wait to get into a place where no one could hear each other talk and where moving from one side of the room to the other would take at least 20 minutes and decided to go home. I knew I could make my way to the front of the line and someone would come out and get me. That I wouldn't actually have to wait in that line if I didn't want to.
But to what end? So I could go see my friends but not hear a thing they were saying? (That is if I could even FIND them in the ridiculous crowds inside...) So I could get sandwiched between people hoping to get noticed or shoved between two drunk morons? So I could lose my voice attempting to say "excuse me"? So I could get to the bathroom and wait in line for 20 minutes to pee? So I could say I was at STK last night? So I could "see and be seen"? Ummmm...let me think about this for a moment. Can't think of anything I'd rather do less.
Lines=Clubs=so NOT fun. I don't do lines.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 10:24 AM 2 comments
Labels: food and drink, LA rant, whilst drinking
Giving LA a bad name
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
I have dear friends in from NYC who happen to be staying in Brentwood. They have friends all over- Los Feliz, Hancock Park, Hollywood - but few of them live on the west side. So when trying to pick a place that's "convenient" (a word which doesn't really apply in Los Angeles unless you truly live in the same neighborhood) for all parties, we've run into a few issues. Issues which highlight in the brightest, most obnoxious fluorescent yellow the problems I have with this town.
We settled on Amarone Kitchen and Wine Bar for dinner - a little hole in the wall with about eleven tables conveniently located on Sunset right near San Vicente. Since they'd been in Los Feliz earlier and then the Sofitel for cocktails, this was a perfect location for them to shoot directly west on Sunset to arrive home later that evening. Amarone feels like a little slice of Italy with the chefs greeting you with an authentic "Buona Sera" as you pass by the kitchen. I was beyond thrilled to find that they had my beloved Falanghina on the wine list- a white wine from the Campania region of Italy that I drank endlessly on the island of Capri last June. And the extensive menu made decisions difficult. We settled on sharing (as I love to do most) and started with grilled calamari and burrata on a bed of arugala. The calamari was delicious - tender and seasoned to perfection. And the burrata was quite nice although the arugala could have used a little splash of lemon and olive oil from the kitchen. For dinner we had a filet stuffed with drunken goat cheese with a balsamic reduction and a squid ink linguine with fruits de mer in a light tomato sauce. The clearly homemade pasta was light and tangy and the steak was tender and full of flavor. I would go back to Amarone to sample more from their menu in a heartbeat.
Clearly, this was not the annoying part of our evening. After Amarone, we wanted to go someplace close by for a drink with some other friends traveling from Los Feliz. Given that we were on Sunset, I suggested Sky Bar at the Mondrian. Sure it's a scene and can be mildly annoying but the views are killer and it was a gorgeous uncharacteristically warm LA evening. It's generally not busy in the earlier half of the evening and I've lounged on on of the beds with friends on several enjoyable occasions. So we walk up to Sky bar and the place is empty. I mean EMPTY. Literally not a soul in sight save the "host" at the podium who quickly informs us that we're at the entrance for hotel guests. This is the same entrance through which I've entered Sky Bar on no fewer than five occasions.But he was relentless and sent us to the entrance on Sunset where we were told that without reservations, we can't come in. It's a Monday night. It's 10:15. We already know that there's NO ONE IN THE FUCKING BAR. Honestly? I'm too old for this crap. I just wanted to go to a nice hotel and have another glass of wine.
We cross the street to Katana - a sushi spot with an entire deck of outdoor seating. I've eaten at Katana about 15 times since I moved to LA. I've literally walked in and eaten at the bar on a few occasions. But all of a sudden, there's a RED VELVET ROPE OUTSIDE KATANA! People, this place is not new. It's been around for 4 years. And on top of that, this place is NOT FULL! It's EMPTY. But we are again greeted with "Sorry - reservations only."
There was an article in the LA Times a while back about how restaurants in Los Angeles were telling people they couldn't accommodate for certain reservation times. The writer of the article would then proceed to go to these places only to find out that there was not a single soul in the entire restaurant. Further, when the writer arrived at the restaurant at the reservation time she was given, she was often made to wait despite the fact that there was an almost empty dining room before her. These places were trying to give the illusion that they were difficult to get into (and I suppose it wasn't an illusion at all given that they were actually turning people down for reservations). Are Angelinos SO VAPID that they would rather appear cool than actually MAKE MONEY??? Seriously people. I am baffled. Ed. note: I tried to find the article to link to it but it appears it's been removed from the LA Times. The original article was entitled "Table at 7? LA begs to differ"
Granted I haven't gone out on Sunset in close to two years so perhaps in an effort to make everything old new again, these places are attempting to up the exclusivity factor. And next time I'll make less of an effort to find a place that's convenient and more of an effort to find a place that's actually cool.
We ended up deciding to grab a table at the very chi-chi Saddle Ranch which was possibly the funniest experience I've had in a long time. We thought about riding the bull but decided that we'd rather not spend the remainder of the evening in the emergency room which is inevitably where I would have landed. Our favorite part of the experience was the smoldering and steaming carafe that was brought out posing as the premium margarita that my friend ordered. Literally smoking. 
At least we're in good company -- Carrie, Samantha, and Miranda ended up at the Saddle Ranch in one of the LA episodes:
Samantha: All the fabulous places in LA and we're at the saddle ranch chophouse?
Carrie: Hey - don't complain. It's the closest bar without a hill involved.
That pretty much sums it up.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 12:09 PM 0 comments
Labels: driving, food and drink, LA rant
Well said
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
I literally couldn't have said it better myself. I've tried.
It is 5:28 PM. I am staring at the screen which is fairly blurry given that my eyes are brimming with tears. There is a choke hold in my throat and a throbbing in my brain. I'm in my cubicle in my office and I don't care if anyone sees. And they would probably think me a fool if they were to ask what's wrong anyway.
I just finished reading the second part of Jon Robin Baitz' article on HuffingtonPost.com about his departure from the show he created, Brothers and Sisters, and from Los Angeles. It's appropriate that an award winning New York playwright has put into words everything that I feel about Los Angeles with such perfect genius and clarity. I was reminded of a lyric that a reader sent me about a month ago from the Neil Diamond song, I am I said:
LA's fine, but it ain't home
New York's home but it ain't mine no more
Baitz says so, so many striking things about LA - about how lonely it is, the obsession with looks and youth, about how the industry runs and how no one talks about anything else, about the way this town reeks of desperation. But that was not what brought me to tears. It amazed me with it's accuracy, with everything I have felt in my gut and soul but not quite found the words to say. But it did not bring me to tears.
No. What brought me to tears was his beautifully perfect description of New York:
"However, in New York, the life of the street, the flirtation and ebb and flow of strangers getting off of the bus, makes for a perpetual energy machine. New York is just sexier, smarter, and better dressed, less vulgar, more diverse, filled with accident, and unexpected encounters, as a rule. There is the Neue Gallery across from the Met, down the street from the Guggenheim, which is up from the Whitney, just a twenty minute walk to MOMA, across Central Park, etc, etc, forever and ever. You will see, smile at, spy on, talk to, stare at, be enchanted by any number of utterly different kinds of people within twenty minutes of leaving your apartment in NYC. A barrage rather than the white noise of the undulating palms and brackish skies of the dream coast."
And in LA...well it's all a 20 minute drive away in your isolated car and there's not even the opportunity for a chance encounter or a new meeting on the subway. And when you get where you're going, everyone turns around to see if you might be "someone" (which of COURSE you are...just not someone they know.) And I feel grateful for the few friends out here that I know with my heart are true friends because I have found that there are so many more that are not. People are harder to trust in LA. Everyone's in it for something and rarely is it just to get to know you.
As my husband and our good friend Jessica have often said, "My favorite thing about LA is leaving it."
It was appropriate that I read this after a conversation with one of my best friends and former roommates from New York in which he told me about August Osage County, a new play on Broadway that I've been told I absolutely CAN NOT miss. I haven't seen a Broadway show or an off-Broadway show in over a year. It used to be my daily life. I told him that I didn't know when I would be in New York next, that since it's a limited run, I might miss it.
But I don't WANT to miss it. I want to see it, and every other show that I've missed in the past three years.
Uch. I miss my home.
***
Find Jon Robin Baitz' posts here:
Leaving Los Angeles, (Part One: Work)
Leaving Los Angeles, (Part Two: Love)
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 5:26 PM 4 comments
Labels: homesick, LA rant, NYC
Food for thought
Monday, December 10, 2007
According to Self magazine, LA was voted the city where you were most likely to suffer from depression. Hmmm. More on this later. When I can see properly again.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 5:12 PM 0 comments
Labels: LA rant
Hallo-whine
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Halloween in LA has officially turned me into a Grinch. I should begin by explaining that I am not a fan of the adult celebration of Halloween. I can't wait to get my kids dressed up one day and take them trick or treating...but as an adult, I'm completely averse to the requirement of dressing up. So NY or LA, I've never been a huge fan of the Halloween party. I know, I know. People love dressing up and being someone else for a night - they can be a superhero or a slut or a pretty, pretty princess for a night. But it's just not for me.
Last night, I reluctantly went to a Halloween party because a good friend had planned it (and she planned fabulously, I might add...). Her fabulous party did not change my feeling. But we had a perfectly lovely time for the hour or so that we were there - just enough time to look around, see some great costumes, get a hot dog on a stick, see a few friends and be in bed early enough on a school night.
I left around 11 and expected to be in my bed about 20 minutes later. My dreams of sugarplum fairies were dashed when, about 10 minutes into my trip home, I hit traffic at every turn I took. The Halloween parade on Santa Monica Blvd. had ended and there were people flooding to their cars in a mass exodus. I sat in my car and cursed - cursed driving, cursed LA, cursed the Merry Hallo-weiners. In NYC, while the streets are flooded with people after the West Village parade, you can cut down any number of side streets at any point in time to avoid the masses and get to your destination. Not so here. I sat through traffic light change after traffic light change and slowly went insane as I prayed to the gods to puh-leeeeeeeeeeeease allow me to just cross La Cienega Avenue. After 20 minutes at a virtual stand-still, I crossed to the other side - the land of Moses - and drove home mostly uninterrupted. I crawled into bed and declared that I wish that I could end adult Halloween. "I could be the Grinch who stole Halloween!" I declared giddily! (But lest you think I'm some absolutely horribly person - know that I am referring to adults only here. I would never, EVER think about removing the joy of dressing up and trick or treating from children. I'm just making sure we're all clear here...) After I reveled in my thought for a brief moment, I came back to earth and realized, as the Grinch did, that there's no need for me to force my feelings upon the entire universe. But I can safely say that Halloween in LA has effectively ruined any minuscule desire that I ever had to participate in Halloween on Halloween in this city again.
Boo Humbug.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 12:28 PM 0 comments
