A Long Awaited Post

s

 Aaron Smyth: Slapping Chopping his way through life and generally being an ass-hat.

 Alright, I've been receiving some flack for the somewhat granola and nature boy content which I have posted lately. Actually, I've only received flack from that asshole, Aaron Smyth who wrote on my Facebook wall, "Hey! Enough of the touchy feely one with nature blog posts. I want more hilarious tales of mexicans and the ability to get booze for a dollar."

So here is a small tid-bit of grits from the more comedic side of Los Angeles which I have failed to post and some other greatness which happened only hours ago.

The L.A. Zoo and Slash from Guns And Roses.

We made a trip to the Los Angeles Zoo partly out of curiosity and partly out of boredom. We had nothing better to do and the little ones needed to be set free so we travelled the half hour or so north to Glendale where the Zoo lies.

It looked as though there were plenty of other parents in the same boat when we arrived. There were around one hundred or so people all waiting with spun out kids. Every individual wore the same look on their face which seemed to state that they had no better place to be so, why not the Zoo?

We gained entrance after paying the fee and made our way past the gift shops and food stands, god knows most of these people (fatties) wouldn't make it more than another couple of hundred feet without a greasy cinnamon bun or thirteen greasy Churros stuffed into every available hole in their body.

The kettle corn stand was the most puzzling.

Situated just before and JUST upwind of the Flamingo habit stood the  kettle corn poppery which was spewing out a sickly mix of oil and sugar covered popped corn. This of course, is just what the doctor ordered for the obese three year old licking his chops and busily shifting his weight from foot to foot while his dad ordered three large bags. The smell, I admit, was not bad. That is to say, it was not bad until you passed a mere ten feet by the stand and were assaulted with the ammonia rich stench of ankle high Flamingo shit. The word caustic, acrid and vile come to mind when thinking back. I watched fatty after fatty almost vomit moments after taking in a massive waft of Flamingo ass-leavings. I'm sure that more than one popped kernel was aspirated that day but nonetheless, with  the same American "can-co" attitude which "won the big one" (thanks for waiting well into the war America), those fatties paused for but a moment and then plowed through that kettle corn like it was set to take down the local In-and-out Burger should it not be ingested in the next thirty seconds.

More puzzling than even the mixture of sweet treats and shit was the reptile exhibit or rather, the exhibit which is presently being built. There on the fencing surrounding the construction site hung a sign detailing how one could buy tiles which would cover the future reptile house. Each tile would cost a varying amount depending on its location and would bare your name. Of course, this is not puzzling in the least. I'm sure the majority of us have seen something like this in the past. What then could be puzzling about this at all, you ask?

Slash, from Guns and Roses was a benefactor.

There beside the sign hung another one adorned with a picture and quote:

Alright, let me just say it. There is no way Slash used the words amphibian and invertebrate in a sentence. This was obviously written by someone else. This in turn pretty much says, "tax write off" all over it because let's face it, the liquor store might give receipts but whores and coke dealers do not. I'm sure Slash needs some place to funnel some dollars in order to save a couple on the other end.

Calling these Rep-tiles would be a stroke of genius considering the quality of his character if he had in fact sobered up for the hour it would have taken for him to construct this sentence provided he was using spell and grammar check, a thesaurus and possibly a tutor. Still think he wrote this on his own? Watch this debauchery and then ask yourself again if I'm off base.

  

The human body is approximately sixty percent water. In Slashes, case a good 30% of that liquid is Jack Daniels.

He did not write that damned sentence.

The Very Brief Return Of Nature Boy/ Surf-a-tron 5000

I popped up and turned my board down the line/wave today and it was amazing. I know this is kinda lame considering Larry Bertlemann was cranking cutbacks like a mo-fo in the seventies but this is only the fifth time I've been one a board so suck it.

Surfing rules.

Venice Boardwalk: Dogtown Represent

I love Venice. Venice beach, for those who don't know it, is the Commercial drive of Los Angeles. It's got all the hippies, eateries, overtly gay, drop outs, flunkies, junkies, homeless, eccentric and totally ripping people of all time. It very possibly is the best part of Los Angeles because it pretty much extends a middle finger and a massive F-U to Hollywood. Well done Venice. You are a mad and crazy bastard. 

We headed down for a family walk along the beach because why wouldn't I want to expose my children to this crowd? Venice has a wonderful boardwalk which runs its length and extends north into Santa Monica. Before finding parking (took around forty minutes) I made sure we took a run by Venice Highschool (where Ed Norton drops off Ed Furlong for school in the final scene of American History X and Grease... yeah, John Travolta) and Hank Moody's place (Californication) so that Lisa could see some touristy sights. Alright, I admit... it was all for me. I LOVE YOU DAVID DUCHOVNY!

So back to the boardwalk. 

FREAK SHOW! No, really... there was a freak show. There was some crazy contortionist chick with her foot behind her head in a unitard, a hood and sunglasses. Then there was the pot-head contingent inviting us to take a medical marijuana evaluation where they basically deem everyone needing weed. Yeah, GFY hop head. I work for a living unlike your welfare scamming ass.

There was booth after booth of hand crafted goods. By hand crafted, I mean "made in China" and shipped to Los Angeles and sold as authentically African, Indian, Thai and other.

Then came the good stuff. I hadn't told Lisa but the real reason I wanted to visit Venice was the skatepark. I've longed to see kids ripping massive airs mere feet in front of me. Low and behold, there before me stood the Wunderkind Asher Bradshaw. I'll let his lines speak for their seven year old selves.

 

Watching that kid made me feel old and brittle. I'd bust my hip if I even stepped into that pool and here he is ripping airs. There were plenty of other talented guys there and it definitely looked like it was largely made up of the sponsored skate crowd.

Shortly after, I witnessed an equally impressive display of physical prowess by a couple of aging black dudes who needed to get down and shake their saggy old asses on roller skates. I couldn't really tell if the oldest of the two gentlemen was just warming up or if he was performing his limited funk-masterpiece. I'll let you decide.

On the way back up the boardwalk we stopped to get Miete ice cream and then promptly ran into Tim Robbins. Normally, this would be considered a star sighting but considering I've already seen both him and his now ex-wife, Susan Sarandon in Vancouver it no longer counts. It's much more rare to see a star north of the border and down here, they're a dime a dozen. Sorry Tim.

It really looked like divorce is not treating Tim well. He looked haggered and somewhat bloated. He had a bad dye job on his hair which was somewhat of a blonde color. He reeked of microwaved dinners, six packs of Heineken and resentment that, "that hippie bitch left me and I don't have a damned clue how to cook". Enjoy what ever Swansons has for you along with your new found freedom.

Once back at the car, we thought we better get Miete on the potty before the trip back across town. An accident in the car seat is never nice and never fun to clean up. Miete's pretty good at holding it in but we had been out for quite a while at this point so Lisa pulled out the little plastic potty we have, put the passenger seat forward in the Camry and Miete sat down on the floor. 

A stench filled the car. The proverbial deuce had been dropped. Wow, my kid can really clear out a room. Lisa "bagged" the prize and as we stowed it for storage I watched the neighbor give us an odd look as he made his way to his car. 

Moments later I heard a crunch and a scraping noise. I looked up only when I heard the cry of, "Damnit!" I then saw the neighbor climb out of his Audi and look at his front bumper which he had just smashed in while backing out of his parking space. Obviously, the sight of a three year old taking a dump in the back of a Toyota had really thrown him off his game.

The Worst Sleep Of All Time

Our newest addition has begun teething. With teething comes red cheeks, crying, the odd elevated temperature and a lot less sleep. Last night was pretty bad. She must have been up crying every three hours or so. Added to that was a couple of other events which woke us and further disturbed our sleep.

I thought we had a tremor around midnight. Something which seemed to shake the apartment woke me. In any case, it was not large but when something makes you think the Earth is shaking it takes a while to get back to sleep.

At around three in the morning we were both awoken by a loud bang and then bright white light illuminating the apartment. Something/Someone had hit the transformer box at the nearest intersection and some serious electric sparking and fireworks were taking place. Three large pops and bursts of light turned night into day. This of course was followed by the sound of all things electric dying. The power was out.

Moments later the sound of sirens and flashing lights followed as emergency crews arrived on the scene. Apparently, it was a four car accident and one of the vehicles sheared the transformer box off the sidewalk it was attached to. A new one now stands in its place.

Eireland woke us three more times from the time of these events to when she final woke us for the last time around half past six. We had slept long but in two hour installments and both of us felt hammer smashed.

Waking up to a dark and powerless house was not so much fun. A semi-warm bath and no coffee does not a happy Sunday make especially after such a crap sleep. An hour or so after we got out of bed the power came back on and our day resumed under normal conditions. Two double shot lattes and I'm starting to feel half way normal.

Good times.