Well I got another message from my friend this morning. This time he threatened my husband, my nonexistent child, Quentin Tarantino, Velvet Revolver, and possibly our very own president, George W. Perhaps he's just equal opportunity. Obviously off his rocker. Unfortunately I didn't get a chance to talk to him. Maybe next week...
My mom is coming out to visit this weekend, arriving tomorrow morning and leaving Sunday afternoon. She has never been one to wear out her welcome.
And next week I get to go back to the desert - Borrego Springs. It's supposed to be a charming place, if a wee bit on the toasty side.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Death Threats and DiCaprio
This morning I arrived at work with a voice mail awaiting me. I heard, "I'm going to kill you tomorrow, how do you feel right now?" This was followed by much slurred gibberish involving movie stars and appeared to be in no way directed at me, but nevertheless it was creepy. I made Amber come over to listen to it and she confirmed it was creepy and later hypothesized via email that it was directed at Leonardo DiCaprio as all the movie stars were in some way connected with him. Finally Frank got to the office and after I made him listen to it, he called security. Security eventually came up to record the message at which time I determined that the first word of the message might actually be DiCaprio. At any rate, I filled out a report with security and really stopped worrying about it, although I was a bit concerned for my former heartthrob and fellow environmentalist.
Shortly thereafter, the editorial switchboard, which is about 10 feet from my desk, told me they had a caller on the line who sounded an awful lot like the guy who left the message who wanted to talk with me. She put him through and Frank picked up the phone. Apparently the guy was much more lucid and said something to the effect of, "Put that bitch on the phone or you, faggot, can come meet me on Hollywood Boulevard." Frank replied that it was too far to drive and said goodbye.
Then I called security to tell them about it and they said to transfer the next call to them. Switchboard received a call almost immediately, but the guy hung up when they transferred. Then security called me to see what happened and my other line started ringing, but I didn't get it in time and no message was left. That was the end of it for the day.
So here are the questions. 1) If the message was for Leo, why did the dude call back and ask for me? 2) If the dude was upset about my Sunday centerpiece, why would he ramble about moviestars? 3) How did the dude get my number in the night but then have to call the switchboard during the day? After hours security receives all calls, but my name isn't in the computer system so they should have been unable to transfer me.
At any rate, Frank made me get an escort to my bus stop. I felt this was unnecessary, but he did not give me a choice. At any rate, security picked me up in an unmarked black vehicle, drove me two blocks to the bus stop, and dropped me off there without waiting with me for my bus. Now pray tell, what in the world was the point of that? I kind of wish I'd gotten on the phone with the guy so I could have figured out if he actually knew who I was or if he thought I was in some way connected to Leo. Perhaps the saga will continue tomorrow.
Shortly thereafter, the editorial switchboard, which is about 10 feet from my desk, told me they had a caller on the line who sounded an awful lot like the guy who left the message who wanted to talk with me. She put him through and Frank picked up the phone. Apparently the guy was much more lucid and said something to the effect of, "Put that bitch on the phone or you, faggot, can come meet me on Hollywood Boulevard." Frank replied that it was too far to drive and said goodbye.
Then I called security to tell them about it and they said to transfer the next call to them. Switchboard received a call almost immediately, but the guy hung up when they transferred. Then security called me to see what happened and my other line started ringing, but I didn't get it in time and no message was left. That was the end of it for the day.
So here are the questions. 1) If the message was for Leo, why did the dude call back and ask for me? 2) If the dude was upset about my Sunday centerpiece, why would he ramble about moviestars? 3) How did the dude get my number in the night but then have to call the switchboard during the day? After hours security receives all calls, but my name isn't in the computer system so they should have been unable to transfer me.
At any rate, Frank made me get an escort to my bus stop. I felt this was unnecessary, but he did not give me a choice. At any rate, security picked me up in an unmarked black vehicle, drove me two blocks to the bus stop, and dropped me off there without waiting with me for my bus. Now pray tell, what in the world was the point of that? I kind of wish I'd gotten on the phone with the guy so I could have figured out if he actually knew who I was or if he thought I was in some way connected to Leo. Perhaps the saga will continue tomorrow.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Counseling in the Park
Yesterday Jackie came over to my house to hang out while we worked on job applications. However, we were pretty lazy and ended up not accomplishing much, so we ventured out into the world. First we stopped at Borders and picked up some books (because I think spending money when you're unemployed is always a good idea...) and then took them to a nearby park. We were sitting near the edge of it so we could see the car since there wasn't very much money in the meter. A little older lady drove up in her Mercedes, pulled into a parking space and asked us if the meters were in operation. We said yes. Somehow this launched her into a discussion of how awful her day had been, how she would have liked to have driven her car off a bridge, how her identity was stolen, and on and on and on. She eventually got her dogs out of the car and sat down with us in the grass. This seriously lasted almost an hour - I actually had to go feed the meter.
While Jackie and I were being good citizens preventing a possible suicide, we learned about the lady's $20,000 dining room table hand-carved in the Philippines, her $100,000 worth of furniture that was stolen from storage, and how her late husband's personal assistant had done this to her. We also learned that she, in her 60s, is apparently man-crazy over nearly any boy that walks around, preferably under 40. She griped about how she has so much money, but she just can't get to most of it right now. I found myself wanting to interrupt her, saying, lady, count your blessings. I probably will never see the amount of money you have accessible right now in my lifetime, but I restrained myself.
Unfortunately, after telling us we should check out the concert in the park, which we would have done, she decided to go to. At that point we told her we had dinner plans. She seemed genuinely grateful for the time we had already spent with her, so we didn't feel too badly about it.
After that we decided to get some drinks. (I'm not sure why I'm putting this up since we look kind of large.
And here was the evening's benefactor, trying to look all suave and not even noticing what Jackie was doing. He actually offered to take us shopping for clothes.
While Jackie and I were being good citizens preventing a possible suicide, we learned about the lady's $20,000 dining room table hand-carved in the Philippines, her $100,000 worth of furniture that was stolen from storage, and how her late husband's personal assistant had done this to her. We also learned that she, in her 60s, is apparently man-crazy over nearly any boy that walks around, preferably under 40. She griped about how she has so much money, but she just can't get to most of it right now. I found myself wanting to interrupt her, saying, lady, count your blessings. I probably will never see the amount of money you have accessible right now in my lifetime, but I restrained myself.
Unfortunately, after telling us we should check out the concert in the park, which we would have done, she decided to go to. At that point we told her we had dinner plans. She seemed genuinely grateful for the time we had already spent with her, so we didn't feel too badly about it.
After that we decided to get some drinks. (I'm not sure why I'm putting this up since we look kind of large.
And here was the evening's benefactor, trying to look all suave and not even noticing what Jackie was doing. He actually offered to take us shopping for clothes.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Bus Stories Part 2
Most mornings I try to catch the bus that comes to Figueroa and Burwood at 7:52 a.m., putting me at work around 8:30. I used to get up early enough to get a bus that got me to work around 8, but then I never got to eat my landlady's breakfast. Sometimes I take an even later bus if I am lazy or breakfast is slow.
I can't remember if I noticed this character the first time I got on the 7:52 bus or if he started riding the bus after I did. At any rate, one stop down the road from me, every time I ride the 7:52 bus, an older man wearing a baseball cap, Hawaiian shirt (different most days), and slacks gets on the bus. Every morning he shows his pass to the bus driver and asks him or her to call out Temple Street. Every morning, if available, he sits in the same seat - the first one on the opposite side from the driver. If that seat is not available, he keeps moving as people get off until he gets that seat. Every morning when the bus passes the stop before his, he stands up, holds on to the rail as close to the driver as possible, and asks something to the extent of, Is Temple street next, is this temple street, or can you call out Temple street please. Every day. Obviously, folks, since he stands up at the same place every day, he knows where Temple Street is. So why does the bus driver always need to tell him? I'm not sure.
Keep in mind that most of the time buses have automated systems that call out streets. I will grant that these are not always in operation. And I will grant that the first few times I rode the bus I was nervous about where to get off. But folks, it's been at least a month. I think he knows.
On Thursday I discovered something about him that I did not know because I had never sat very close to him. He talks. I'm not sure if it's to himself or if he wants other passengers to listen, but he makes comments. Often about what's going on on the TV (yes, the bus has it's own TV channel).
His stop is only one before mine. I wonder what he does each day in downtown L.A. I have never seen him on a bus ride home, so I suspect he does not work a full day, if he has a job. Maybe one day I will ask him. But I doubt it. I never talk to people on the bus.
***
On a side note, today I tried reading on the bus because I'm trying to get through the book of a guy I'm going to interview next week. But I felt disconnected. I felt like I needed to look out the window and to people-watch my fellow passengers. I felt like I was missing something with my nose in the book. Am I odd?
I can't remember if I noticed this character the first time I got on the 7:52 bus or if he started riding the bus after I did. At any rate, one stop down the road from me, every time I ride the 7:52 bus, an older man wearing a baseball cap, Hawaiian shirt (different most days), and slacks gets on the bus. Every morning he shows his pass to the bus driver and asks him or her to call out Temple Street. Every morning, if available, he sits in the same seat - the first one on the opposite side from the driver. If that seat is not available, he keeps moving as people get off until he gets that seat. Every morning when the bus passes the stop before his, he stands up, holds on to the rail as close to the driver as possible, and asks something to the extent of, Is Temple street next, is this temple street, or can you call out Temple street please. Every day. Obviously, folks, since he stands up at the same place every day, he knows where Temple Street is. So why does the bus driver always need to tell him? I'm not sure.
Keep in mind that most of the time buses have automated systems that call out streets. I will grant that these are not always in operation. And I will grant that the first few times I rode the bus I was nervous about where to get off. But folks, it's been at least a month. I think he knows.
On Thursday I discovered something about him that I did not know because I had never sat very close to him. He talks. I'm not sure if it's to himself or if he wants other passengers to listen, but he makes comments. Often about what's going on on the TV (yes, the bus has it's own TV channel).
His stop is only one before mine. I wonder what he does each day in downtown L.A. I have never seen him on a bus ride home, so I suspect he does not work a full day, if he has a job. Maybe one day I will ask him. But I doubt it. I never talk to people on the bus.
***
On a side note, today I tried reading on the bus because I'm trying to get through the book of a guy I'm going to interview next week. But I felt disconnected. I felt like I needed to look out the window and to people-watch my fellow passengers. I felt like I was missing something with my nose in the book. Am I odd?
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Bus Stories
Sometimes I really enjoy riding the bus, just to watch human dynamics. Sometimes it's really quite amazing.
Yesterday on my way home, I was sitting near a young lady with a baby and another small child. The baby was in her lap and the little girl was in the seat next to her, screaming away. Obviously the lady had no real way to hold both of them at the same time. First an older lady in the seat behind started talking to the little girl and pointing things out to her, calming her down for the most part, but not for long. Later, another lady got on the bus and sat right in front of the lady with the kids. They started talking and before long, she had offered to hold the baby so the mother could comfort the little girl. She eventually even got off the bus with the mother so that she could help her with the baby and the stroller. Now all this was going on in Spanish, but I am absolutely sure that none of these women knew each other before the bus ride. At one point, one of the ladies actually called the baby a boy instead of a girl, but she apologized and was obviously forgiven.
When I had first gotten on the bus, I felt as if I should offer to help the mother, but as in aforementioned blogs, I am not so good with the babies and I am still shocked that mothers let strangers hold their babies. Folks, it is a completely different culture out here in L.A., but it really impresses me. Where would you see this kind of thing except on a bus?
Today's bus ride home was a completely different story. The bus driver spent the whole time talking to a young woman near the front. There was also a pretty old woman at the very front who kept trying to talk to them in Spanish, which obviously neither of them spoke very well. I ascertained that somehow this lady had gotten lost on the wrong bus and that this bus driver was delivering her to the correct stop after a long day. I'm not sure who the young woman was - apparently a friend. At any rate, at one point she claimed to be barely over 21, but she also has a 9 year-old son. I'll let you do the math on that one. Well through the whole thing I couldn't quite decide if they were being nice or mean to the old lady, but I guess she got where she needed to go. For a large portion of the ride until both the women got off the bus, I am fairly sure the driver never got out of 1st gear. It was the longest ride ever and by the time I got off there was only one other person on the bus. My suspicion is that those people with passes might have gotten off and waited for another. I sure would have. There is only so much you can take of a young mother flirting with a married bus driver, when it is actually illegal to talk unnecessarily with one.
Just some more afternoon entertainment. Speaking of which, there was actually a line at the Highland Theater when we passed it today - presumably to see Harry Potter. That's right, world. Here in L.A. we get the movies early. Take that.
Yesterday on my way home, I was sitting near a young lady with a baby and another small child. The baby was in her lap and the little girl was in the seat next to her, screaming away. Obviously the lady had no real way to hold both of them at the same time. First an older lady in the seat behind started talking to the little girl and pointing things out to her, calming her down for the most part, but not for long. Later, another lady got on the bus and sat right in front of the lady with the kids. They started talking and before long, she had offered to hold the baby so the mother could comfort the little girl. She eventually even got off the bus with the mother so that she could help her with the baby and the stroller. Now all this was going on in Spanish, but I am absolutely sure that none of these women knew each other before the bus ride. At one point, one of the ladies actually called the baby a boy instead of a girl, but she apologized and was obviously forgiven.
When I had first gotten on the bus, I felt as if I should offer to help the mother, but as in aforementioned blogs, I am not so good with the babies and I am still shocked that mothers let strangers hold their babies. Folks, it is a completely different culture out here in L.A., but it really impresses me. Where would you see this kind of thing except on a bus?
Today's bus ride home was a completely different story. The bus driver spent the whole time talking to a young woman near the front. There was also a pretty old woman at the very front who kept trying to talk to them in Spanish, which obviously neither of them spoke very well. I ascertained that somehow this lady had gotten lost on the wrong bus and that this bus driver was delivering her to the correct stop after a long day. I'm not sure who the young woman was - apparently a friend. At any rate, at one point she claimed to be barely over 21, but she also has a 9 year-old son. I'll let you do the math on that one. Well through the whole thing I couldn't quite decide if they were being nice or mean to the old lady, but I guess she got where she needed to go. For a large portion of the ride until both the women got off the bus, I am fairly sure the driver never got out of 1st gear. It was the longest ride ever and by the time I got off there was only one other person on the bus. My suspicion is that those people with passes might have gotten off and waited for another. I sure would have. There is only so much you can take of a young mother flirting with a married bus driver, when it is actually illegal to talk unnecessarily with one.
Just some more afternoon entertainment. Speaking of which, there was actually a line at the Highland Theater when we passed it today - presumably to see Harry Potter. That's right, world. Here in L.A. we get the movies early. Take that.
Monday, July 09, 2007
More Updates. And Santa Monica. Again. With Pictures.
I have to apologize for my recent lack of posts - I have been without internet again and only finally got it back this evening.
In summary:
Last weekend Jackie and I went to the beach in Santa Monica yet again and then to the Huntington Gardens in Pasadena. It was hot in the inland valley ya'll. Hot and humid. How do those southerners handle it?
Monday and Tuesday at work I had to help another lady with an article - it ran on A1 Thursday without my byline. Alas...
Wednesday I actually got the day off. My fellow fellows chickened out on the hiking owing to the heat, so I went by myself. I took the Sam Merrill trail to the Castle Canyon trail to Inspiration Point - gorgeous but bad view.
After that I drove down to San Diego to hang out with Laura and Kyle on the 4th. They were gracious enough to host me last minute so that I could get up at a reasonable hour to head to Imperial Valley on Thursday.
I spent that day in 120 degree heat checking out some canals and graveyards - story to follow later this week I hope.
Friday it was back to work, but I didn't accomplish much other than finding out I lost my job at Sandia. Yup. I am officially unemployed. Well, officially I am still on leave, but you know. So I have no idea how we are gonna pay the rent come August. Anyone have a lucky lottery ticket?
Matt showed up at the Greyhound bus station several hours late on Friday, but I'll let him relate his experiences. While he was here we:
In summary:
Last weekend Jackie and I went to the beach in Santa Monica yet again and then to the Huntington Gardens in Pasadena. It was hot in the inland valley ya'll. Hot and humid. How do those southerners handle it?
Monday and Tuesday at work I had to help another lady with an article - it ran on A1 Thursday without my byline. Alas...
Wednesday I actually got the day off. My fellow fellows chickened out on the hiking owing to the heat, so I went by myself. I took the Sam Merrill trail to the Castle Canyon trail to Inspiration Point - gorgeous but bad view.
After that I drove down to San Diego to hang out with Laura and Kyle on the 4th. They were gracious enough to host me last minute so that I could get up at a reasonable hour to head to Imperial Valley on Thursday.
I spent that day in 120 degree heat checking out some canals and graveyards - story to follow later this week I hope.
Friday it was back to work, but I didn't accomplish much other than finding out I lost my job at Sandia. Yup. I am officially unemployed. Well, officially I am still on leave, but you know. So I have no idea how we are gonna pay the rent come August. Anyone have a lucky lottery ticket?
Matt showed up at the Greyhound bus station several hours late on Friday, but I'll let him relate his experiences. While he was here we:
- Checked out Pasadena
- Visited the La Brea Tar Pits
- Drove through Hollywood
- Hung out in Santa Monica (again)
- Hiked to a waterfall
- Went to a Dodgers game
- Strolled through Griffith Park
- Had a beer at Good in Silverlake
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