Happy New Year!

Let's make is happier than the last.

Love from LA with all its beautifully amazing strangeness...

LA Strange: On Hooking Up II

On the way back from one of the usual trips to Glendale Galleria, I made a mistake of stopping at VONS on Alvarado.  Complete ghetto.  Do NOT take a bus there!

By the meat cooler, “Hi, you are very beautiful.”  Turning around to get a better look and to flash a smile, “Thank you”.  Oh god, look away, look the other way, look any other way...

“I have a girlfriend, but can we still be friends?” Ummm, sure, whatever.  Hand sigh. Still following me…

“My name is Johnny.  So what’s your number?”  Oh that’s ok.  Keep on trying to walk away.  Still following me. 

“I have to go now, but can I text you?” “NO!!!” dropping the shopping basket and practically running out of the store.  Cursing the shoes.

LA Strange: Korean Ghetto

Yeah, yeah, yeah…  I live in Korean Ghetto.  Theoretically, the building is still in K-town.  But there is a Mexican street vendor track permanently parked at the front.  And I am pretty sure people that occupy (yes, I mean occupy) building next to mine are all Hispanic.  And all five senses are there to vouch. 

1. Sight

I definitely have a view.  Mostly of the building an arms length’s away from mine.  However, aside from the scorched grass, which methodically gets a trim every Saturday and a shower every other morning at 420, gas meters, and metal bars, I see a lot of tennis shoes set out at the windows.  I am assuming, for the purpose of drying them out.  Which is puzzling, as I do not remember last time it rained.  Yes, the weather is always wonderful in sunny Californa-yay! Plus, if I got some wet shoes, would I set them out on the window sill? Hmmm… Wait, maybe this one belongs in smell category…

2. Hearing

Oh the sweet, un-replicatable, un-mutable soundtrack of K-town. Every weekday morning thru my bathroom window I hear my neighbor across the alley frying something in lard. Just the sounds of sizzling clogs my arteries right up. Persistent warning of a smoke detector. Screaming car stereos at ridiculous hours of the night (oh wait...that's just me). Hot Latin mamas yelling for their children.  Annoying ice cream truck tune (I didn’t realize they actually existed outside of cartoons).  Startled car alarms. Tireless police sirens.  Yapping dogs (someone even has his wireless named “iHearUrPuppyBarking”).  Hispanic Lil’ Kim talking on the phone in the middle of the night so loudly that I can clearly make out every single word.  I swear if I knew even a lil’ Spanish, I could probably learn the rest of the language from that convo. 

3. Smell

Fried onions – constantly.  Lard (is there a different word that would convey this any better?). Something that feels like stuff soaked in greasy tomato paste. Raw garlic chicken. Smoke. Lard. Pot. Showers. Did I mention lard? Morning mugginess of this fabulous city. Yup, all the usual stuff.  Though I don’t think anyone bakes around here.  I guess I am due to add a new kind of fragrance to this social establishment.

4. Taste

There are a lot of restaurants in Koreatown.  I don’t know if Koreans are any good at any other trades, but food they’ve mastered.  Although I haven’t eaten in any of the nearby spots, the food must be not only super delicious, but also super nutritious - cockroaches get bigger than my palm.  Every time I see one, it scars me for the rest of the week. Oh yeah, I am scarred permanentemente.  I do shop at a small Korean market that is a couple of blocks from my flat.  I have already tried seaweed, seatangle, picked relishes, squid, fish cake, kimchee, shirataki noodles, and I am still trying to figure out what salted shrimps might be used for.  Produce is definitely not from Korea, however, – too beautifully fresh.

5. Touch

Hmmm…  This one is the least used one. I supposed, if I could actually extend my hand out of my window, I would probably be able to touch the neighboring building. I could definitely toss stuff across the alley.  Otherwise, I try to touch as little as possible in my ghetto for sanitary reasons.

Yeah, yeah, yeah...  William Dillard was absolutely right: “Location, location, LOCATION!”

 

LA Strange: La La Brea

It has to mean something, no?

LA Strange: A Story of Chocolate Whine

I am not a wine person.  I cannot stand wine.  Any wine. White, red, pink, orange, green, purple, whatever. I don't drink wine. I hate the taste of it.  The only time I drink wine is when it's chocolate (thanks to Christa).  Or Chocolate Raspberry. 

However, if I love something, I am always looking for other versions.  As a Russian would say: wisdom is found in comparison (все познается в сравнении).  Thus, I am always looking for new brands of chocolate wines to try.  Just in case they turn out to be better.  Or cheaper.  :)  And I was able to find a couple of other kinds of similar chocolate wine in Idaho. 

Now that I am in sunny California, I am also looking for new chocolate wine. My neighborhood Ralphs does carry my usual staple.  But LA has to have more than just one kind, right?  So here I was - in Culver City Pavilions.  And I see this right next to MY chocolate wine:

The front label states: "CHOCOLATE SHOP.  The Chocolate Lover's Wine. Red Wine with Natural Dark Chocolate Flavors."  DARK CHOCOLATE! I LOVE dark chocolate!

The back label states: "Chocolate Shop, the ultimate "Chocolate Lover's Wine" is a deep, ruby red wine blended with rich, velvety chocolate.  Inviting aromas of black cherry and dark chocolate combine in the glass and continue on the palate surrounded by hints of cocoa powder.  Nuances of sweet red wine lingers on the smooth finish (...oh, this sentence should have tipped me off...).  Chocolate Shop provides you with an indulgent wine experience like no other."  Who wouldn't want to try THAT?  AND it was less than my usual staple.  So I went for it.

Full of anticipation of promised indulgence, I get it home.  It is corked...  That should have been my second hint.  Panicked, I frantically searched for the corkscrew, insisting on calling it a screwdriver. 

I coulda sworn I had like FIVE of them in Idaho.  How do I end up with NONE in sunny California? ...But with three whisks? On the very day, when all I want is to get to that buzz?  That might have to be a different story...

Astounded, I walk to my Ralphs, debating whether I should buy a screwdriver or just another bottle of liquor.  Concluding that I really do want to try that new wine, I went for a screwdriver, making it a super fancy one to justify the trip with home improvement. 

The cork is out.  I don't normally bother with glasses, as I do not share my liquor...

...It is a wine. It is just a wine. Might actually be red as they advertise, I wouldn't know.  I am not a wine person.  It tastes just like regular wine.  No hint of chocolate, just damn nasty rotten grapes. Or whatever they put in wine.  Hmmm...

I tried another sip.  Same nastiness.  Pored into a wine glass.  Looks like red wine.  Took pictures.  Muscled out another sip.  Still the same. No chocolate.  None whatsoever.  Dang it!

What in the world would ever possess anyone to call it "an ultimate chocolate lover's wine"?  It tastes nothing like my usual creamy chocolatey delicious staple. 

The disappointment?  Immeasurable.  Even considered another trip to Ralphs - to return the screwdriver. At this point of unmet expectations liquor does not help anymore. 

I have tried a lot A LOT of different wines by now.  But this CHOCOLATE SHOP has managed to deceive me the most.  But don't trust my reviews - I am not a wine person.

LA Strange: On Hooking Up

I get hit on a lot here.  So much – it’s disgusting.  I can’t even go to the store without getting stalked.

So there I was. In VONS. In search of their $5 Friday deal on Tiramisu. This guy casually comes up to me and says: “I just wanted to tell you that I think you are very beautiful.” I, of course, get a smile up to my ears, “Awe… Tee Hee Hee...  Thank you… Tee Hee Hee… That makes two of us... Tee Hee Hee…” He looks me up and down like he is buying a TV and says: “I would love to hook up with you.”  Just like that.  In the middle of frozen foods.  Seriously? Is that how it’s done in LA?

The smile instantaneously fades.  I gave him the look I gave Mr. Dealer Cameron during our poker game.    O no you dit-ten! 

Him after a moment of silence: “So what do you say?”

Eh…  So obviously nothing.

“Boyfriend?” 

Oh yes...  Of course...  I have a boyfriend...  A nod.  Please leave me alone... Life is so much better that way.