Freaky Friday: Fire Woman, You’re To Blame…
Sorry, y’all, that I missed Tuesday, Wednesday & Thursday’s posts.
My sinuses have been attacked by an evil snot demon.
I’m feeling a bit better today, so we shall continue with another effed up door in my office condo.
For your nightmarish displeasure:
The Lunch Crasher's Door
T-t-t-t-twistin' like a flame in a slow dance, baby...
Freaky Friday: The Cloaked Ones
Welcome to the second week in this Freaky Friday segment!
Behold this week’s door:
My Office Door: The Other Side
This is what I see:
Evil Bearded Cloaked Cymbal Playing Scary Things
What do y’all see?
Thoughtful Thursday: When Canyons Ruled the City
I’ve listened to Butch Walker’s ‘When Canyons Ruled the City’ more times than I am really willing to admit over the past few days.
It’s one of those songs where I would find myself singing along & not until recently really think about what the title and lyrics were all about.
So, since apparently I don’t have anything better to do on a Wednesday night, I hunkered down with Google & did a little research to attempt to better understand Butch’s lyrical genius.
Here are the lyrics:
Laurel was a girl I knew,
Made of dirt and stone
Pretty hip in younger times,
Now she sits alone
With a hundred thousand
Beat up architectural disasters
She calls homes
Beverly Glen was pretty
All the rich boys loved her curves
She tried to get the credit sometimes
More than she deserved
Like those cheesy 80’s movies
She epitomized all things
We’d come to know
Beachwood was a boheme
From the sexy 60’s scene
Grew up east of W. Hollywood
And somewhere in between
All the madness Laurel puts up with but
Somehow always tolerates a scene
Nichols had a lot in common
With performing arts
A and R guys having cookouts
On her back with super stars
But she had some nasty habits and some
Roadwork to repair, this drama queen
Sometimes Beachwood yelled at Laurel
On the terms of selling out
Then Laurel yelled at Beverly
For not knowing what life’s about
With her trust fund friends and family,
It felt just like an earthquake
When she’d shout
And Silverlake just stood there
With her nose up in the air
Pushing up her horn rimmed glasses saying,
I dont fucking care
Bout the drama all you idiots are buying,
Selling, leasing, up there
San Fernando was a struggling actor
Drove a deli truck to the sets of porno
Movies, just trying to make a buck
While his pilot sits in escrow, he dreams of
Dating Beverly one day
I learned a little in a short amount of time about the different canyons in LA’s surrounding areas.
From best I can tell, this song personifies the canyons with the stereotypical characteristics of each area.
Laurel canyon is known to have been a popular area in the 60’s for rockers to live. ”Pretty hip in younger times, now she sits alone with a hundred thousand beat up architectural disasters she calls homes…”
Beverly Hills is very well-known affluent area full of celebrities, executives and the uber wealthy. ”Then Laurel yelled at Beverly for not knowing what life’s about with her trust fund friends and family…”
Beachwood, the area around the Hollywood sign, was a hippy mecca at one time. ”Beachwood was a boheme from the sexy 60’s scene…” ”Sometimes Beachwood yelled at Laurel on the terms of selling out…”
Nichols is a favorite for joggers and cyclist. ”Nichols had a lot in common with performing arts. A and R guys having cookouts on her back with super stars, but she had some nasty habits and some roadwork to repair, this drama queen…”
Silverlake is hipsters area. ”And Silverlake just stood there with her nose up in the air, pushing up her horn rimmed glasses saying, ‘I dont fucking care bout the drama all you idiots are buying, selling, leasing, up there…”
San Fernando, well, who isn’t familiar with The Valley? ”San Fernando was a struggling actor, drove a deli truck to the sets of porno movies, just trying to make a buck. While his pilot sits in escrow, he dreams of dating Beverly one day…”
I think I can see myself in all of them, well, except Beverly for obvious reasons.
But I think I honestly am somewhere between Laurel & San Fernando.
Do you relate to one of the canyons more than the others?
What similarities and/or differences do you see in each of the canyons/personalities?
Twittersome Tuesday
Here are some of my favorite Tweets from the past week:
@jamievaron: Tonight totally redeemed the clusterfuck that was today.
@altgeldshrugged: read that Thomas Jefferson is responsible for bringing macaroni and cheese to America. Just when I thought I coudn’t be a bigger fan…
@kolchak: My cat smells like syrup and this can only lead to bad things and furry tongues.
@chipcoffey: Lady asked me to contact her dead dog. She asked what he was saying. With a sly smile, I replied: WOOF! WOOF! 
@Navre: It’s about 10 degrees. Why do I live here? I blame the pilgrims.
@TheBloggess: I’m the only person on twitter not watching the Grammys. This must be how blind people feel all the time. They feel vaguely annoyed, btw.
@rainnwilson: If Willie Nelson made a pass at me, I’d sigh and be like: “Fine. Whatever. You’re Willie Nelson, let’s do this.”
@nicoleisbetter: Someone should probably tell whiskey that it’s the unofficial sponsor of my life.
@mayopie: Speaking of plastic surgery, Burt Reynolds face looks like someone drew a mustache on a condom and stuffed a soccer ball inside it.
@OutNumberedisMe: My daughter called me a disgusting pig, because I was eating Ham in my underwear. Who doesn’t eat Ham in their underwear. I’m confused.
If y’all aren’t following any of them, well, you’re robbing yourself some great belly laughs.
Meh Monday: Don’t Worry…
I have what is prossibly (probably + possibly) an unhealthy fixation with vanity plates.
I’m constantly embarrassing the crap out of my friends and family by stopping in mid-walk to a destination to snap a picture of a vanity plate I’ve spotted.
None are safe, on the road or parked, I gotta get a picture of it.
So, on Mondays, I’m going to share some of my collection of photographs for your viewing pleasure.
Here's a little song I wrote. You might want to sing it note for note.
Freaky Friday: Because My Imagination Runs Wild
Welcome to a series I will be posting on Fridays for the next few months that I am calling ‘Freaky Friday’.
The doors in my office building freak me out.
I see all kinds of crazy, mostly menacing things in wood grain.
It’s like they all were cut from trees from an evil forest.
Or maybe this says more about my state of mind.
Anyhoo, let’s move on to this week’s door.
This is the outside of my office door:
My Office Door Creeps Me Out
Here is what I see:
Twin Aliens? 'Take me to your leader. Zong. Zing. Zam.'
What do y’all see?
Thoughtful Thursday: Because It Is About Time I Knew…
When I was little, I can remember hearing people talk about Hare Krishna, most of the time with a laugh in their voice.
I can also remember seeing them on television in shows or movies, dancing around, all smiley with flowers. And always at airports.
Thing is, I always thought people were saying Harry Krishna.
Like it was some dude named Harry. Last name Krishna.
And I thought damn, all those people LOVE this dude.
They are all happy, dancing about like they’ve not a care in the world.
I mean, they even wanted to LOOK like him.
(Yes, I thought they were all dressing like him, shaved head and robe).
I didn’t really think that much about.
I mean, it didn’t keep me up at nights.
I was too busy plotting a way to convince my parents that I HAD TO HAVE the newest Cabbage Patch Kid Preemie.
But nonetheless, I still pretty much thought that all these people were obsessed with this Harry dude.
But I knew that people also said they were a cult and I knew that was a bad thing.
So I figured this Harry dude had some kind of idiot spell on all these people that made them want to look just like he did, dance around in airports while handing flowers to those arriving.
I’m ashamed to admit that it isn’t until recently that I discovered it isn’t Harry, but Hare.
I still don’t know that much about them, but I willing to bet my childhood assumptions aren’t too far off base.
Ya know, Hare is stupid name for bald-headed, robe wearing, dancing florist.
