From Redondo to Calabassos

10.5.2014

Of the myriad things that bug the shit out of me are the fuckwits that park in the red zone in front of the grocery store entrance.  Some do it because they fill their water jugs at the machines just outside the doors.  Others drivers sit idle in their vehicles while their passenger goes in to get chips and Twinkies®.  I always curse them and hope that some day a cop will find them there and give them the fucking ticket they deserve.

That day seemed to arrive a few days back.  I wheeled my cart of booze and cigarettes out the front doors of the local Ralph's grocery to see the two fat, ugly idiots I had noticed earlier in the Hostess® section loading their junk food into a cherry-red, gleaming Jaguar F-Type convertible (top up, the pussies).  This beautiful car was parked in a blue-striped zone on the WRONG side of the cart-return on the end of the parking row.  Stenciled in the blue stripes was "NO PARKING."  These cunts made their own parking space.

As I emerged from the store to observe this, a motorcycle LAPD officer was wheeling up to the couple, who were still loading.  "Bingo!, I thought."  The cop was pointing to the stripes and looked peeved.  I loaded my stuff, peeking over the car tops to see the cop's lecture continuing.  He kept on while I finished loading and walked over to return my cart.  Then … he left.  God damn it.  The fuckers get away with it.

Then, I saw the Jag backing up down the row, followed by the cop.  The Jag-offs tried to exit the lot by going the wrong way down the parking lanes and the cop made them go back.  Jesus, I thought, these dicks are making up their own rules.  Then, as the cop passed me, I said just that. "Jesus, get a hot Jag and you get to do whatever you want," I said.  "Seems so," the cop said.  The asshole lady in the passenger seat must have heard me.  "Seriously?" she accused.  "Please proceed; I don't want to guess what you're going to do next," I said.

Then, she started cussing me out.  Pretty spectacularly, I might add.

"Now she's swearing at me," I told the cop.

"You have to pick your battles," he replied.

I laughed at that, but the joke was on me.  If this dick gets away with parking wherever he wants, there's nothing to dissuade him from doing it again and again.  Caught by a cop and he gets away with it.  Shit.

Tonight - 5th Thursday!!  The Homestead.

Ms. Heather Lake suggests a pre-TNSC Halloween warm-up at The Make-Out Room @ 7:30pm. 
Killer Queens (all girl Queen tribute band) and Malice Cooper (duh – Alice Cooper tribute band) are there for your entertainment.  $8 cover.

Special shout-out to TNSC NOLA, tonight!  SF represents!!


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

I WILL find you (REDUX)

10.4.2014

My son has several names.  We call him by his nickname and keep his real name for official things like airline flights and 529 plans and such.  His nickname has nicknames.  A whole list of them, actually.  I myownself have had nicknames bestowed upon me at almost every place I've ever worked.  I know people with three first names (Ken William Scott, for one), and personally think people with three first names have an edge on the rest of us.  I think a lot about names.

Since I pay attention to things like people's names I've noticed that what used to be rather rare - even in my lifetime - a woman hyphenating her maiden name and her married name (Hanna Jaffe-Walsh, for example) has become commonplace.  Practically every female NPR reporter has a hyphenated last name.  (Lourdes Garcia-Navarro, Barbara Bradley-Hagerty, Charlayne Hunter-Gault, Mary Louise-Kelly, Soraya Sarhaddi-Nelson, Ofeibea Quist-Arcton, Dina Temple-Raston and on and on and on.)  Fine with me.

What I'm not okay with is something that's becoming a trend:  Men hyphenating their last names.  I've only noticed professional athletes doing this, but what was one (a running back for some shit football team Benjarvus (wtf's w/ that name, btw) Green-Ellis), is now more and more, the latest a forward for some shitass fuckwad hockey team (Oliver Eckman-Larson).  Pick a name and go with it.  You can't have them all.

I've done a poll and I'm in the minority on calling this bullshit.  "They're honoring their mother and father."  Horse pucky.  "They had more than two parents."  Whatever.

If I'm behind the times and I'm just a grumpy old curmudge, fine.  But skip ahead some as this trend catches fire:  Oliver Eckman-Larson's kid marries Ofeibea Quist-Arcton's kid.  What you get is Mary Eckman-Larson-Quist-Arcton.  Mary marries Benjarvus Green-Ellis and Dina Temple-Raston's kid and ya get Phil Eckman-Larson-Quist-Arcton-Green-Ellis-Temple-Raston.

If that guy marries another jerk with eight last names, what are ya gonna have?  Do the math.

Let alone if he's a left-handed relief pitcher:  How are ya gonna fit all those names on the back of a Cubs jersey?

******************
Tonight the robot hands over the keys to the kingdom to longime TNSC list member Timothy Pries.  He's curating this evening's gathering and is taking us to one of the most legendary of the "new" ad agency bars.  By "new" we mean since the 80's.

So join us early (7pm) at Grumpy's.  Or join us late (10pm) at Comstock Saloon.
Or join us at both, if you dare.
******************

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Nothing to see here....

10.3.2014

Rant crapped out. Sorry. I would have repaired it, but I figured that greasing my robot gears was probably a better option.

Tonight - Il Pirata  (by request)

Good way to wait out the end of tonight's NLCS game.  Go Giants!

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

FIFA, part 4

10.2.2014

It's not much of a venue announcement, I know, but I just wanted to inform you all that a week has passed and I still haven't heard a peep from Lucky.


Until I do, I'll be biding my time at - Hi Dive.   (your waterfront watering hole)

How about them Giants?!?

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

FIFA, part 3

10.1.2014

To recap, some newbie Peet's® counterman mixed two roasts that should never have been mixed because he didn't know any better and I reported my misgivings to Peet's® headquarters and they responded.

The response from HQ said they'd reach out to the manager of that local shop and tell them my story.  Well they did, because the manager of that shop wrote to me:

• Hello,
  
  My name is Lucky; I am the Store Manager at Peets in Marina Del Rey.  I am emailing about your bean experience here last week.  Thank you for bringing this to my attention, I am currently speaking to staff about their execution in the bean area when handling customers.  Your bean purchase is important to me and ensuring that you receive the correct beans is even more important.  I would like to offer you your beans for this week on us; we would like to make it up to you.  Please feel free to come in at anytime to receive your correct bean order.  I appreciate your business and I hope you have a awesome work week.
  
  Thank you,
• Lucky

I wasn't out for free beans.  I just expected them to keep their staff better informed about their product than I was, and this guy wasn't, so I told them.  Here's what I said back:

Hello Lucky!  While it's very nice of you to offer a make-good sac of free beans, I wasn't after that and I'll gladly pay for my order.  If you were to do anything in return, I suggest you offer my order as a "Manager's Special."  I bet the public would go ape for "Peet's® Pyrenees Blend."  Why, I was talking coffee with some other parents at my son's school just the other day and said I mix Peet's® French and Italian roasts together and a school mom said, "So do I!!"  I asked her if she called it "Peet's® Pyrenees Blend," too, and she said she wasn't that smart.  I said, "It's not smart, it's geography!"  So what do you say?  Can you make a Manager's special and see if the public goes for it?
Thanks!! 

And while I thought we'd conclude this saga this week, ol' Lucky must still be milling it over, cuz she ain't wrote me back yet.

Watch this space for the conclusion ... whenever that is.


Tonight - Zeitgeist!


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!