Yesterday, a Walmart employee was trampled to death at the start of Black Friday. Further proof that people have more regard for personal gain than for for humanity, that Christmas is dangerous, and that I should never move back to Long Island.
16 oz. Diet Coke cans. They've been on the market now for a couple of months but seem to arrive in stores just to taunt me with their disappearance weeks later. Today, I hit the jackpot in a Silverlake liquor store. I've stocked up. Apparently, the cans are a limited time test run for the brand. I am hoping the company's product development team comes to its senses and makes it a permanent staple in the Diet Coke collection. Addicts like me everywhere are crossing our fingers and counting our remaining supply.
Thanksigving 2.0 proved, on almost all counts, a success. The morning's turnout to Gobble Gobble Give was astounding. I'm pretty certain that every hipster in a 15 mile radius of The Echo turned out to pack, pass and send out hundreds of packaged meals to LA's homeless. Note for next year: rolls and pie do not a Thanksgiving meal make people. By the end of the day, we'd run out of turkey and were sending out whole pies in the stead of meals. But a pumpkin pie is better than nothing to eat. And I left inspired by the community's come-togetherness. And especially impressed by my very own DJ Scott T. Sterling's 2 hour set which had volunteers shaking their tail as they doled stuffing and pie out.
Scott and I made a pumpkin pie. Because the one pie we'd already purchased, simply put, needed a pal. And because no Thanksgiving would be complete without pumpkin products...
We snacked on brie and my all time fave cheese, Cave-Aged Gruyere...
Heating up the dinner from Auntie Em's, picked up the day before, was quite the production for me and had me baffled more than a couple of times--further proof that I should never, ever attempt to actually create an entire meal from scratch. It also could probably have fed 4 people...
As you'll see by the amount of food leftover, which looks nearly identical to the amount of food which we started with...
For the last 26 years, I've anticipated Thanksgiving (and most major holidays) with a sense of agitation and annoyance. I likely had to choose between family members' dinners. And once I made my choice, I would usually come to regret it for some reason or another--generally to do with either a family fight or questionable culinary offerings. This year, however, I received no invitation anywhere and for the first time I was saddened that I wouldn't get a chance to spend an uncomfortable evening with family.
Having spent most of the holiday budget on ordering dinner (and knowing I'll need to save some for the several bottles of wine it will take me to forget that we're actually catering dinner) I turned to the closest 99 Cent Only store for some festive touches. I expected to walk in and find pumpkins and turkey mobiles and pilgrim figurines at my disposal which I would magically, in Martha Stewart style, fashion into some sort of masterful centerpiece. But I am no Martha Stewart. And this was the 99 Cent Only store's excuse for a holiday display. 
Realizing that I might need to get creative, I took a trip through the rest of the store. Turkey bags and plastic Halloween pumpkins aside, the pickings were slim. I did manage to scoop up some fall-colored candles, a couple of shiny objects that I figure I can do something with, a glittered reindeer (so, I'm on the wrong holiday--like I said, the pickings were slim) and a ceramic bird that I think may be a turkey (and if it's a chicken, so what?).
There are few of us ladies residing in major metropolises that don't subscribe to Daily Candy, even if the editorial has gotten too bombastic for its own good. However, those of us who are savvy know better than to take too much stock in the daily newsletter's reviews. If we're in the know, than we've likely already heard of the new restaurant/boutique/sample sale its touting. If, by chance, the editors suggest something fab and unique, it will have been made common by by the time you get to the store after hundreds of other girls before you. And if the DC writers actually get the scoop on a new gem before word's out, it's often before the gem itself is ready for business. (I'm sure others out there were duped when Daily Candy told us about Mode Restaurant, the restaurant that would 'stay open around the clock' but never actually opened its doors at all--a fact I learned only after paying $10 for parking to find the eatery dark. Or remember when The Waffle was reviewed just days after opening, after impoloring DC not to run the item, and faced a rush of eager readers wanting items that were'nt yet stocked and service that hadn't yet been ironed out.)
So, after years of faithful Daily Candy reading, despite my sometimes bitter disappointment in its coverage, I was finally rewarded with an item I couldn't have been more pleased to discover--Pop Physique, an East side sculpting studio that I have, since reading about, fallen just a little bit in love with. Yes, the studio's logo and website design is a play on the American Apparel motif. And yes, the irony is sort of twisted when the studio is located in the heart of Silverlake which is nothing if not American Apparel hipster central, making me unsure if the girls in leotards and bleached hair is not supposed to be ironic at all. But still, design follies aside, I'm glad I allowed Daily Candy to direct me to the only healthy thing I've done for myself since I gave up heroin and crack cocaine. Kidding, kidding. Cause really--nothing feels better than a burning in your thighs while a rubber ball's placed squarely between your [you know what].
So, you're stuck in LA for Thanksgiving? Sucks to be you. But it sucks a lot more to be homeless. Or food-less. Or just really, really worse than you think you are because you can't afford a plane ticket out of here. I'm hoping that realizing you're not that bad off even though you had to sell your last bit of Prada on ebay last week inspires you to volunteer with me this Thanksgiving Day at Gobble Gobble Give. We'll be hanging at your favorite spot for Indie tunes, The Echo, and getting food together for peeps who need it. Even more than you.
Just cause something's got an exclamation point in it, doesn't make it good. Case in point--Baked(!) Flaming Hot Cheetos. They were not good the first time I bought them from the office cafeteria. But they were novel. They were not good the second time I bought them. But I was hungry. Today, after I actually sought them out in every vending machine in the building, they were just foul. An exclamation point does not equate flavor, nor does the boatload of inedible 'Hot' in the ingredient list. Oh, Frito Lay, how you've disappointed my snack hour.
Last night, on an unusually warm night at the Bowl, Van Morrison took the stage, donning a pair of dark sunglasses he would not remove for the entirety of his show. He performed--first, a set of Greatest Hits (Brown Eyed Girls drew hoots and hollers) and later, the complete set of Astral Weeks--before an enthused, though not completely full, crowd. Save a militant-type move he fancied with his right arm, Van's performance was cool, calm and one might say, un-emotional. Toward the end of his last song, he exited, calculatedly re-entered and then, finally, exited again. A wave of audience members rose to cheer and clap and shout encore. And they did so for near 10 minutes, expecting their rock idol to give them what they wanted--another song, a brief rendition of Moondance, a few more notes at his personzlized, logo-ed mic stand. But nothing. Van Morrison was likely piling into his car already--cool, calm, seemingly unattached to his adoring fans, and, probably, still wearing his dark shades. Van, The Man, The Machine.
On another note, sightings at the Bowl included Justin Long and Jonah Hill together and excitedly greeting friends. Jonah--this is probably, no definitely, the 4th time I've seen you this month. Are you following me? Also spotted...we think...was Fran Drescher heading toward the ladies loo. Cause everyone's got to go. After all, stars--they're just like us.
The current map on the homepage of NYTimes.com, as we approach the 7 o'clock hour is frighteningly red. Barack Obama is winning the race, but not by the sweeping lead you would have thought he had guaranteed to him if you live in California, or New York or a state where people are led by their hearts and not by bibles.
1. People are stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
2. Larry King is not as easy a costume to pull together as I'd suspected. Graying my hair and giving it the volume necessary to do proper justice to Larry's would have taken far too long. And suspenders; where does one even get suspenders?
