our man in L.A.

LA Baby's First Flight

2008-10-30T20:23:00.000-07:00

About a month ago, LA Baby took her first plane ride. Suffice it to say, happily, it was for the most part uneventful. Grace was a champ. She slept most the trip (including one takeoff), and played with her toys - including a very cool spherical rattle (I got to get me one of those).

Of course, there were a few trips to the airplane bathroom (you have not lived until you've changed your kid's diaper in the airplane bathroom - or as I like to call it, "The Other Mile High Club").

And sure, there were those few times she spit up all over me and Our Woman in LA. But, that's why you travel with spare shirts. A few of them.

Here is LA Baby and Our Woman in LA pre-flight. LA Baby is getting snuggly in the baby sling (this one is called the Baby Pouch, not very manly looking, but the kid loves it, so Our Man abides).

The second pic is Gracie on the plane, playing very intently with the aforementioned ball rattle. Notice the bib? Yeah, she started teething right before this trip. That means extra drool. Fun times. And by fun, I mean, a baby's body weight in saliva.

Our "New" Man in LA?

2008-10-29T21:10:00.000-07:00

Wow. Just re-read that last post. Has this blog changed its stripes or what?

Four Months

2008-10-29T21:00:00.000-07:00

Hello out there . . .

Wow. Is that an echo?

Yeah, OK, OK, I get it. This post is long overdue. But seriously, put yourself in Our Man in LA’s flip flops (that’s right, Chicago and Midwest readers! Flip-flops! Eat it! Weather jokes never get old!). There’s the job – with all it’s traveling (for the man, don’t you know). There’s been some personal travel (back to the wife’s old stomping grounds for a wedding), and the usual accoutrements of the rock n roll lifestyle. Trips to Albertsons, stuff like that.

Oh, yeah, and there’s this baby. LA Baby’s been a very busy munchkin the past few weeks. Took her first plane ride (more on that later, but suffice it to say that you should never, ever give your breast milk to Debra the flight attendant). Went to her first mommy and me yoga class thingie. Had her first play date. Big times.

And she’s practically a teenager now. Gracie turned four months old a couple of weeks ago – which, if I know my calendar, now makes her four and a half months old (you can never underestimate the value of that half – seriously; like, I would have thought that was a joke, but it really is different). Before we know it, she’ll be buying her prom dress or prom “outfit” - she might rebel against the whole dress thing, who knows.

Either way, I’ve got one of those tuxedo t-shirts with her name allllll over it.

Anyway, at her four month check up, she continued to kick check-up ass. She weighed in at 14 pounds, 7 ounces and 25.5 inches long. She was healthy and strong, even flirted with the doctor (at least, that’s what Steph tells me, I wasn’t there, I was traveling for the man).

Wait a second. Who’s this doctor? What’s his name? Who are his parents? Flirting with my daughter? Time to switch pediatric practices!

Of course, two days after her check up, LA Baby got her first cold. That was awful. Not run of the mill awful, either. Oceans of snot awful.

Sneezing, coughing, a nose that was a runny mess. I tried to explain to her that she wasn’t supposed to even get these things. It’s in the 80s outside! Stop with your retro rhinovirus!

Sigh. No avail. The worst feeling in the world is watching your kid sick. But, I’m happy to report that she is doing much better now.

Of course, Our Woman in LA and I are now sick as dogs. Do you think the reason everyone wants their kid to grow up and become a doctor is because they’re such slobbery little Petri dishes as children?

I’m not saying, I’m just saying. Hear that, Dr. Wieland?

Now a photo. . .

You talkin to me?

2008-09-16T22:05:00.000-07:00

Happy three months, Gracie.

Almost three months....

2008-09-05T15:56:00.000-07:00

L.A. Baby turns three months old in just a week. Can hardly believe it. A few highlights about our girl Gracie.....

She's measuring at 24.5 inches long. Yep, she's grown 4.5 inches in the first ten weeks of life. She's outgrown all her 0-3 month clothes and is wearing onesies for 6 month olds. We have our eye on the WNBA. Go Sparks!

She's also gained 5 pounds in 10 weeks, weighing in now at 12 pounds, 7 ounces. Grace has learned to roll from her back to her side and is starting to be able to hold her head up by herself in sitting position. She is really vocal and loves making all sorts of sounds. She just started experimenting with her first consonant sound yesterday. It was the letter "B," as she regaled us with the sound "Baaaa." Love it. She just had her first immunizations last week, and handled it like a pro.

Below, the "L.A. Baby montage"........

L.A. Baby wakes up:

L.A. Baby plays:

L.A. Baby thinks:

L.A. Baby attempts to sit:

L.A. Baby with her mama:

Stay tuned for more on the L.A. Baby front!

L.A. Baby makes a political statement

2008-09-04T20:50:00.000-07:00

Our Woman in L.A. here.

I forwarded the below picture of our girl Gracie to Chris this week. Here's a recap of the conversation.....
Steph: I'm forwarding you a picture of Grace for your blog.
Chris: Okay, cool.
Steph: You can use it for a political blog entry.
Chris (looking at the picture): Her onesie says "peace". When did peace become political? (pause) Oh, yeah, now.

LA Baby Around Town: Welcome to Los Feliz

2008-08-09T19:20:00.000-07:00

As promised, Our Man in LA has finally gotten around to showing little Gracie around her neighborhood - the slice of heavenly SoCal also known as Los Feliz (pronounced, by the way, L-ow-ss Feel-isss; anyone who calls it L-aw-ss F-uh-leez is a total poser).

So let's get ready, Gracie. It's time for LA Baby to have a look around.

Like all stylin' California girls, Sweet Baby Grace goes nowhere without her shades (courtesy of official friend of LA Baby, comedienne Laura Rosenberg).

Anyway, let's look at the hood. Truth be told, LA Baby is so small still that we haven't done much venturing out, so Mom and Dad will have to cover the basics for her. Here's a simple tutorial about the place Ms. Grace calls home.

Where the heck is it?

Los Feliz is in north central Los Angeles, north and west of downtown, due east of Hollywood, at the base of Griffith Park (editor's note: Griffith Park is the largest inner-city park in the country, and as far as Our Man in LA knows, the only one named after a guy who donated land to a city and then promptly shot his wife in the face. Seriously. Look it up. It's still a beautiful park).

What's so great about it?

It's pretty much got everything. Heck, the aforementioned park alone contains the LA Zoo, the LA Observatory (one of the coolest buildings around), pony rides, running trails, a boss merry-go-round, hiking trails, the Hollywood sign, and even the occasional Coyote sighting. Cool, huh?

Then, once you get into the hood itself, there's truly a legion of bars,restaurants, cool little stores, and movie theaters all within a five- or six-block radius. Do you have a hankering for Mexican food? Check out Mexico City (Our Man in LA's favorite) or Machos Tacos for late night culinary danger. Italian food brings Farfalle Tratoria, Little Dom's, and il Capriccio to the table. For vegans, there's Green Leaves. For Japanese food, there's two great sushi places (En and Niko Niko) and one Japanese country cooking joint (San Sui). The organic crowd digs in at Purans and gets their fix at Nature Mart. Plus, there's good diner fare at Fred 62, and the House of Pies has pretty amazing . . . oh, well, take a wild guess.

OK, pal, besides eating yourself into a food coma, what's so great about it?

Look, I'm not finished. So OK, the neighborhood's been made famous most recently because of the movie SWINGERS. And if you're a barfly, you can head to The Derby (at the corner of Hillhurst and Los Feliz Blvd), where Jon Favreau grabbed Heather Graham and took her for a dance. Or you can head down Vermont Avenue to the Dresden, where Vince Vaughan took the boys to take in cheesy but fun singers Marty and Elayne (they still play there, weekly - check local listings).

And if your drinking tastes run this way, there's way more - from the Chinese-themed Good Luck Bar to the Tiki Ti emporium of strong island drinks and so on. Of course, Ms. Grace won't be of age for a while, so she'll have to take her old man's word for all of this.

But besides drinking and eating . . .

Stop interrupting! Look, SWINGERS may have made people sit up and notice the neighborhood again, but the place has history. Bukowski used to hang out here in his drinking and writing days. Raymond Chandler lived here (and his famous sleuth Phillip Marlowe lived at a couple of different places on Franklin Avenue, if you believe what you read). The neighborhood's a piece of old LA, with its hills, its bungalows, and even its own movie palace (the Vista - easily one of the two or three coolest places to catch a movie in the city).

But it's LA. Where are the celeb sightings?

Deep, heavy sigh. Look, pal. Celebs are just people. They live here like the rest of us.

But yes, Los Feliz has its share. Our Woman in LA spent nearly an entire meal at the Alcove on Hillhurst staring dreamy-eyed at Adrian Grenier from ENTOURAGE. And she rarely notices celebs when we pass them.

And yeah, they shoot Grey's Anatomy in the neighborhood, so we've caught glimpses of all those actors, but that would probably mean more if we watched the show. And there was the one time that Danny Bonaduce called Steph by name at the Copycat.

So OK, where have you taken Grace?

Well, as we mentioned above, she's little. And she's been sick, on and off. And Our Woman in LA's still recovering from gall bladder surgery.

But I'll quit stalling.

We've taken her to Coffee Bean. She's been inside the Albertson's. She's been to the children's boutique Dragonfly Doulou. And our pediatrician's office (just a block away).

But man, is she in for an adventure or what?

No time for pictures, Mommy! We've got places to go!

Not so much, this Colic

2008-08-04T14:41:00.000-07:00

See? Gracie doesn't fear the colic . . .

As new parents, Our Man and Woman in LA have become nervous about a lot of things that didn’t even register before about seven weeks ago. Things like hiring babysitters and post-partum doulas, what store has the best selection of diapers after 10 p.m., whether we can eat our dinners before LA Baby comes to.

Oh, yes. And Colic. Whatever the hell it is, we fear it the way we fear McCain winning the White House.

For the uninitiated, Colic is a malady (or illness, or sensibility – I’m not really sure) that affects children between the ages of 2 weeks and, I’m thinking, 17 years. Babies are fussy all the time, they cry for no reason, growl and complain, and are generally difficult to please.

At this point, Our Man in LA will take a dramatic pause to recognize the number of cheap, easy and funny jokes that he is not posting. You know the ones. Yeah, just revel in them.

Anyhoo, it’s because of this fear that Our Man and Woman in LA had a new kind of dread a couple of weeks back. Little Gracie was exhibiting symptoms of this so-called Colic thing. She was fussy when we put her down. She cried for no reason, refused food from time to time, woke up in the middle of the night screaming (perhaps dreaming of that McCain White House?), and so on.

We were defeated. Because according to the books, if a baby’s colicky, you’re stuck with a miserable period of . . . well, I think about 25 years. Give or take, you understand.

So for days there, we were walking around, miserable. Un-consolable. Until the day that our post-partum doula showed up for a late afternoon/early evening session with Grace. When the baby miraculously went down without a fuss, Our Man in LA went to investigate.

It went like this –

Our Man in LA: You got her down?

Doula: Yes. Easy.

Our Man in LA: Really, because she’s been colicky.

Doula: She’s not colicky.

Our Man in LA: But she is. Every night she fusses and –

Doula: Oh, that. I’ve been meaning to tell you. You know the burping? Like when you burp your daughter.

Our Man in LA: Sure.

Doula: You suck at it.

(Silence)

Doula: She’s got a bunch of leftover gas. Just burp better.

And so ended our bout of colic.

Editor’s Note: No, the Doula didn’t tell me that I sucked at burping, though she certainly would have been right. It just makes a better story there, but I don’t need to sully the doula any further for my silly jokes. Of course, having this experience replaced my fear of colic with a fear of burping my daughter either too hard or too lightly. So I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.

LA Baby's first quake!

2008-07-29T22:55:00.000-07:00

It's been a pretty crazy day for LA Baby and the whole Wieland family. By now you've probably heard that we Angelenos had a 5.4 you-know-what today just a little before noon.

Now everyone knows about California and the earthquakes. There's practically a whole subplot in Superman: the Movie about them. It's trade off that Golden State residents accept in exchange for missing out on hurricanes, blizzards, dense humidity, static electricity, and roving gun and knife shows.

But for outsiders, the quakes are a big black mark of Cali's permanent record. The fact is, if you ask dyed-in-the-wool midwesterners (or southerners, or easterners)why they'd never, ever consider a life out here on the left coast, well, first they'd probably tell you it's because they don't want to live around all those crazy liberals.

And then they'd use that old chestnut about change of seasons, and how important it is to . . . whatever. (Our Man in LA never really bought into that whole line of reasoning, anyway - and hell, with global warming, who knows how many seasons there'll be anywhere before long?)

But the third reason folks would say that they avoid California like they avoid a stuttering Jehovah's Witness is the earthquakes. And to be honest, they're not all that much fun. Today's quake was only about 30-40 seconds but seemed longer. At Our Man in LA's office in Koreatown, the building shook.

At Casa del Wieland, Our Woman in LA and LA Baby both experienced their first quake (Steph has managed to be out of town for the other two we've had since 2004). Books and photos came down off the bookshelves, and it was a bit scary. Particularly for Steph, who knew what was happening. To Gracie, I imagine it was sort of like having the entire apartment become her bouncy chair.

And bouncy chairs are fun, right, LA Baby?

Ah, any excuse to get a photo in the blog of my daughter smiling . . .

Welcome to LA, Baby . . .!

2008-07-23T15:45:00.000-07:00

Now that little Gracie is a full month old, Our Man and Our Woman in LA are thinking that it’s time for the LA BABY to start to get to know her surroundings. Sure, right now, Gracie seems to have a firm grasp on the rooms in Casa del Wieland (she sees them virtually every night as we walk her around, trying to get her to sleep). But she doesn’t know much about the city she lives in – apart from having seen the insides of Cedars-Sinai and her pediatrician’s office.

So look here, Gracie, this post is for you. You need to understand this mixed-up world that your Mommy and Daddy have placed you smack dab in the center of.

That's right. This blog's for you.

You live in Los Angeles, after all. It’s a city that virtually everyone in the United States and all over the world knows a little bit about. They’ve heard of the Valley, though they don’t understand why people choose to live there or not. They talk about the shopping on Rodeo Drive. They know the beach, and that big, tall building that got destroyed during INDEPENDENCE DAY.

But people know this kind of thing sight unseen. They’ve seen LA on TV, in the movies, and they’ve read about it in those nasty magazines at the supermarket checkout line. That’s why – when you travel this great country of ours, you’ll hear people say things like:

“Ugh, I hate LA. I would never live there. Of course, I’ve never been there. But you know, I heard about it.”

Ignore these people. There’s a reason they’re living in their parents’ basements. You live here. What’s more, you’re one of the few people here who are actually native to the area. And what does that mean, in a city of nearly 10 million?

OK, the 10 million is actually the standardized metropolitan area. Daddy’ll explain later, when you have language. Stay with me. What does that mean if there aren’t sooo many natives?

Simply put, Gracie, you’re growing up somewhere where people have made a conscious decision to live. They chose to come here in droves. They came for the weather, the people, the beaches, the mountains, and this city (also for the Industry, but we’ll get into that later).

Just like your mom and dad, they chose to live in SoCal.

So let’s tell you a little bit about the place they chose. Let’s do a little bit each day. That’s right. Daddy’s promising to blog more than once every six months.

He’s planning a series of posts.

So sit back and get comf. It’s going to be a regular blog-y thing.

OK, so “sit back” is a Daddy getting a little ahead of himself. Have your Nana Flo prop you up a bit.

TOMORROW: WHERE YOU LIVE – YOUR NEIGHBORHOOD, BABY

Guess Who's a Month Old . . .!

2008-07-23T15:16:00.001-07:00

Actually, it's more like 5 weeks now.

But look, I know I'm delinquent in posting here. You know I'm delinquent in posting here. The baby knows, too (and she's disappointed, if I interpret her behavior at 3 this morning correctly). So let's leave it at that.

Either way you cut it, it's been a month or so since Gracie Wieland made her first appearance, so I'm bringing you this pic (above), which shows the girl right after a particularly good feed.

For those out there who haven't totally abandoned the blog yet, what a month (and a week) it's been. In the last 36 days or so, our Gracie has dealt with --

1) A particularly nasty double ear infection;

2) Two trips to the E/R and an emergency gall bladder surgery for Our Woman in LA (aka, Mommy);

3) Visits from assorted friends, relatives, and well-wishers (pictures coming soon).

. . . And so much more.

But here's the skinny: L.A. BABY (like it? It's her official nom de plume!) is doing great. She's about 10 pounds now, and 22 1/2 inches long, which puts her in the 95th percentile for length and the 75th percentile for weight.

She's lifting her head, focusing on faces and objects, and starting to grab things with both hands (like her bottle, her pacifier, Nana Flo's glasses, Daddy's shirt, etc.)

Good times. So good that I can't resist a second picture.

Best week ever

2008-06-22T21:11:00.000-07:00

Hard to believe, but Monday the 23rd marks Grace's one week birthday. Happy One Week, Gracie!

In honor of the event, here's the necessary cute photo . . .

Yeah, my daughter's going places. Get it? Because she's in the car seat. You know, so she's . . . Hey, look, you come up with something funny on three hours of sleep!

At any rate, yesterday, as the wife and I were cleaning up the house again, I came across last Monday's L.A. Times, from the day that my daughter entered the world. It's something I wanted to hold onto for a couple of reasons. First, I thought it would be cool for her to someday see what was going on in the world on the day she took her first breath.

Second, I guess I'd like to feel ancient when she looks up at me and says, "They used to make a paper version of the L.A. Times site? Why?"

At any rate, thought I'd share with you, the reader, a few of the things that were going on last Monday, and what Our Woman in LA and I are hoping they might portend for our daughter's future.

1) There's a front page article with the headline "Women lining up behind Obama," and a subhead that reads "McCain hopes to lure Clinton loyalists. But polls show they are staying Democratic."

OK, this is a relief, because Our Woman in LA and I are really behind Obama, and we love the fact that even though Gracie might sleep through this year's election, that she's born into what could be a historic time.

Consider this: she might live in a world where it doesn't seem at all crazy for an African American man to be President of the United States. She might grow up someplace where there are elected officials not setting their sights on attacking every nation on Earth that begins with the letters I-R-A (whew, Italy just barely dodged a bullet) in the name of ExxonMobil.

Or McCain might win. In which case, she'll grow up in Canada.

2) The front page of the California section has a dominant story about two men who have been in a committed relationship with each other for 15 years. Thanks to the recent ruling by the California Supreme Court, they can finally wed.

Again, how awesome is it that our daughter might actually grow up in a world where people who love, honor and respect each other can get married, whether they're hetero- or homosexual? For me, there's something great about the idea that Gracie might look at her mother and me and not really believe that we ever lived in a time where this was considered an issue. I expect her to express outrage for the past and gratitude for the future in which she lives.

Then I expect her to ask for the car keys.

3) In Sports, Gracie's hometown basketball team, the Los Angeles Lakers, had just won Game 5 of the 2008 NBA Finals, bringing the Series to 3-2 in favor of Boston. Game 6, on Tuesday the 17th, ended with a victory for the rival Boston Celtics.

I don't really have much comment here, other than to say that if history is any guide, it won't be the last time these two teams line up against one another. In the 60 year history of the NBA, the Celtics have 17 championships, the Lakers 14.

My buddy Grant has asked for us to push Grace toward Celtic fanhood because of the victory. Can't do it, man. Nobody puts baby in a corner, even one belonging to the NBA champs. We'll let the girl make up her own mind. Can't see her being an out and out Laker fan, though, at least until Kobe's gone. After all, she is still a baby woman.

4) Finally, in the Calendar section, there are stories about the addition of Albert Brooks to the cast of WEEDS, and Showtime's new drama, which is about a call girl.

For the dad in me, I imagine a world where my daughter will not watch - or even better, know about - sitcoms about pot dealers or dramas about hookers until she's out of the house, or until she's old enough for me to be oblivious to what she's talking about.

On the other hand, I imagine her looking up at her mother and me and saying something like, "God, guys. Of course it's about hookers. It's on Showtime." And then taking the keys to the car.

Sigh. Well, at least maybe those first two wishes - the Obama one and the gay marriage one, in case you lost track - will come true. Either way, she'll still have the newspaper.

Then came Grace . . .

2008-06-19T19:26:00.000-07:00

"Years from now, when you think of this - and you will - be kind."
- Deborah Kerr, to Cary Grant, AN AFFAIR TO REMEMBER

Years from now, I'll think about this week, and the nearly 10 months preceding it, and I'll have no problem being kind. To call this time the turning point in my life is a gross understatement. You get a few really amazing, life-changing happy moments in any life; I've been lucky enough to have my share, more so in the last 8 years since Our Woman in LA entered the building.

And on Monday, another Little Woman in LA entered my life. Meet Grace Marabel Wieland (seen below in the picture, with her beaming Mom and Dad).

She's the little one, in the hat.

What can I tell you? She's amazing. I know I've practically used sky-writing to tell anyone and everyone about little Gracie, but I'm a proud Dad, so . . . get used to it. She came into the world at 7 pounds, 12 ounces, measuring 20 inches long. She's got a beautiful head of dark hair, and a face that makes you fall in love. Her mama and I are beyond proud, beyond overjoyed to have her as part of our family.

She entered the world at 11:22 a.m. Monday, after about 30 hours of labor for Steph. Steph did it all 100 percent naturally, which is just another in the litany of reasons that my wife is an actual super-hero. Did I mention that she pulled off the major labor and birth (which took almost all of Sunday and part of Monday morning) after closing her brilliant City at Peace - Los Angeles show REVIVE ME on Saturday night?

See what I mean? Super. Hero.

In the hours after Gracie was born, I thought about the journey Steph and I took to get to the little post-partum room at Cedars, where we spent our first night with our daughter.

I remembered the day we learned we were pregnant. It had started with a yoga practice for Steph, where her instructor noticed that she was having troubles with some of her usual poses. We had lunch together that day, and wondered if she actually could be with a child like this one.

On the way home, Steph tells it, she listened to the Jeff Buckley song "Halleluia" in her car and was hit by an honest to God wave of realization. She KNEW she was pregnant. That night, after taking three pregnancy tests (after all, she had to be sure), she called me at the dinner meeting I was attending. I was sitting across from the CEO of the YMCA of the USA, who was speaking, so I couldn't answer. My work cell phone buzzed. Then my personal one. Then my work one. Then my personal one again.

So, you see, I pretty well knew that night, too, before I even left the dinner.

I've always believed that the important stuff in my life - or anyone's, really - are the little moments that make you appreciate how great being in this world can be. It's not the high school graduation that matters, I've argued. It's the moments where you've really appreciated friendships, or things you've learned.

I stand corrected. The little moments - like having the cell phone buzz incessantly while you're listening to your boss speak - are amazing. But in the wake of the big moments, as on Monday morning at Cedars-Sinai, I saw just how incredible those can be, too.

Welcome to the world, Gracie. Already you make it better for being here. Welcome to LA, to this family, and to everything. This is going to be a great ride.

Happy Birthday, Baby!!!

2008-06-06T15:05:00.000-07:00

Take a look at that photo . . . right there is a photo of the Wieland family, for approximately three more weeks. After that, it gets bigger by one.

But you knew that. So that can't possibly be enough to pull Our Man in LA out of his long blog-hibernation (blogernation? bloghibe?). Right?

Right. What's pulled me back out and about is the fact that somebody . . . someone in the picture, no less . . . is (in Oprah voice) HAVING A BIRTHDAY TODAY!!!

Hint: It's not the guy in the photo.

That's right, Our Woman in LA, Stephanie Wieland, celebrates another year on this Earth today, and the Gods of California have decided to reward the birthday girl with perfect weather (80 degrees and sunny) and a loss by the Lakers in Game 1 (Our Woman in LA, despite loving her role as an Angeleno, still can't stand that Kobe Bryant - he's soooo smug).

It's been a crazy time for a birthday. The Wielands are in the midst of planning and purchasing for the forthcoming Baby Wieland; and Steph's entering tech week for her latest directorial effort, the City at Peace - Los Angeles show REVIVE ME, playing June 13 and 14 at the Nate Holden Theatre, 4718 W. Washington in LA, with tickets only $20 for adults (FREE PLUG!).

As for Our Man in LA, other than ignoring his blogging "responsibilities," work's been crazy as well.

So you can see what I mean. Barely time to blow out the candles and cut the cake. Thank God next year we'll have the baby around to do all the planning for these summer birthdays. I mean, come on, it's not like she'll be sooo busy (though I hear she may have a new baby sitcom in development, so . . .).

Anyway, join me in wishing my girl the very happiest of birthdays. Happy Birthday, Steph. Every day with you is better than the one before. It seems amazing all that we've seen in done in these first 8+ years together; and I know that we're just getting started.

Count down, 4 weeks.....

2008-05-29T09:35:00.000-07:00

Hey Y'all. It's Steph. We realized we had not updated the blog in a while, and so I thought I'd post a few photos until Our Man in L.A. has time to really write an entry.

Things are good here. Our Man in L.A. and I are gearing up for parenthood. As much as you can 'gear up' for it, I suppose. In any case, we're excited.

Below are some photos of our office turned baby room. Still in development, but you get the drift - and there's a link to some photos from our shower.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/26586201@N05/sets/72157605070428068

Geek Training Starts Early

2008-03-31T16:05:00.000-07:00

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Our Man in LA's been away a good long while, it's true. Longer, even, than most of my sabbaticals. No lame excuses this time. They insult us all. Suffice to say that there's a lot going on . . . baby preparations, work travel, you know the drill.

But fear not. There are still stories to tell. Like this one --

Do yourself a favor. Check out that link. For fairly geeky soon-to-be dads in their mid-30s (like Our Man in LA), it answers one of life's most pressing questions. Namely, when you're having a child, how will she take to the coolest things in life?

Which, if you're a fairly geeky soon-to-be dad in his mid-30s, include the following: the original Star Wars flicks, Indiana Jones, Batman, the Teen Titans, Wolverine, Shazam/Captain Marvel, The Thing from the Fantastic Four, and The Goonies. Also the Muppets and Harry Potter (though opinions vary on Books 5 and 6).

Thankfully, someone's answered the question. And videoed it. And put it on Yahoo. Go ahead. Click the link.

Aw hell. I can't count on that. Click this box:

Baby Girl, you're on my mind . . .

2008-02-12T19:48:00.000-08:00

So in case you haven't heard, last week Our Man and Woman in L.A. learned the gender of the forthcoming Our Baby in L.A.

If you've heard this before, move along. These aren't the Droids you're looking for.

Anyhow, ladies and germs, Baby Wieland is . . .

(Drumroll please)

A GIRL!

That's right. We're having ourselves a little girl. Baby Girl Wieland will be showing her cute little head around these parts in the end of June. Getting pretty excited about it, honestly. There are baby clothes in the closet already. The home office is in flux, on its way to becoming the home nursery.

Oh, yeah. And we've got visual aides! Take a look at this:

It's a picture from inside Our Woman in L.A.'s belly. Now I know that some of the details might seem a little blurry, but keep in mind that Baby Girl Wieland is still only the size of a can of Coke.

But OK, if you squint a bit, you can make out her ear, her eyes and the beginning of her nose. You can see her hands and fingers, her long arm stretching and pushing, and what's that next to her head?

Yeah, it's her foot.

Baby Girl Wieland's already doing yoga. It's like she knows what life in Los Feliz is all about already! We'll let you know when we have photos of her quaffing lattes at Psychobabble Cafe or discussing the latest Wes Anderson film over veggie burgers at Fred 62.

Presumably, these photos will come after the birth. But we'll see.

More hookers, more Jesus, more trouble keeping a straight face

2008-01-16T09:29:00.000-08:00

Despite being chastised for my recent suggestion that the Vegas-based HOOKERS FOR JESUS might be "stumping" for former Arkansas Gov. Mike Huckabee (yeah, yeah, I know . . . it was a stupid joke . . . I know about non-profits and the rules of 501(c)3 status . . . yes, I've worked in non-profits my entire adult life . . . mea culpa, mea culpa, etc.), my hometown rag, the LA TIMES is back with an update about their latest task.

Namely doing battle with the EVIL ANGEL.

This battle is, of course, metaphorical. I do not mean to suggest that representatives of Hookers for Jesus will actually be fighting the folks from Evil Angel (a noted pornography distributor) with, say, swords and crossbows.

Of course, if they do indeed plan to . . . y'know . . . brawl, I welcome the chance to retract my statement and . . . y'know, pay to see it.

A little bit of intelligent design, Vegas-style

2008-01-09T07:53:00.000-08:00

Regular readers know that I'm not much for posting articles from other sites here at Our Man in L.A. I figure that web browsing's a very personal thing, and who am I to impose? But this - this is just too good. It's an article from my hometown newspaper, the Los Angeles Times.

About hookers. For Jesus.

Hookers for Jesus, everyone. In Vegas. Read about it here:

You know, the Nevada Caucuses are coming up. Who wants to bet that these ladies are stumping for Huckabee?

Hmm, was "stumping" the wrong word to use?

An Answer for Grant

2007-12-31T10:18:00.000-08:00

Recently, Grant Blair, official pal of Our Man in LA, wrote in to inquire about the forthcoming Baby Wieland. What he wanted to know was where the baby's NFL allegiances lie. Would it be a Bengals fan, like its dad (in other words, would I subject a newborn to the pain and suffering that is Bengal fan-dom), or would said child be a fan of a currently non-existent but maybe-someday new Los Angeles-based club?

I should have seen this coming.

One thing that is extremely clear about Baby Wieland's interest in sports is that he or she will no doubt favor the college game over the pros, in both football and basketball.

Why, you ask? Because it's the Wieland-Glazer family way. Baby Wieland's Dad comes from a background that favors the mighty Longhorns and the mighty Buckeyes in football, not to mention the Hoosiers in basketball. We also like Northwestern, but that's not really as sports-related, to be honest. Baby Wieland's Mom is related to the mascot of the Tar Heels, for God's sake. And she should be a DePaul fan, too, but frannkly, the Blue Demons fall off just because the list of favored teams is loooooong.

So, here's the skinny on the pro teams we would like Baby Wieland to favor:

1) In football, probably the New York Giants (favorite team of Mom's family) until such time as Al Davis dies and the Raiders return to LA. Then we'll flip a coin. Steph also wants the world to know that she likes the Manning brothers. Because they're cute. And good. But mostly cute.

(Editor's Note: Our Man in LA does think that the NFL will return to the LA area some time in the next 60 years. Likely, it'll be the Raiders about 20 minutes after Al Davis passes away, IMHO. But it could also be the Jacksonville Jaguars, whose fan base can't even sell out a stadium in Jacksonville. Jacksonville! Where there's nothing else going on! At least in LA, the fans would stick it out for a couple of quarters or until it was clear that we wouldn't win. Anyway . . .)

2) In pro basketball, well . . . it'll be hard to ignore the Lakers, but we have a strict anti-Kobe policy in this house. If the Chicago Bulls would just take him off our hands, we would be happy to celebrate the Lakers. Till then, Clipper Nation, we salute you!

It's Baby Time!

2007-12-25T11:09:00.000-08:00

Wait a second, what did Our Man in LA just say at the end of that post? What was that?

Yeah, Our Woman in LA and I are having a kid. It's baby time.

The past three months have been exciting and crazy. Steph just completed her first trimester and is approaching week 15. We've made friends with her OB, we've seen ultrasounds, and this is just beginning to get cool. We've seen and heard the baby's heart beat. Wild. Seriously.

We've seen its fingers, arms, feet, and an ear on the latest ultrasound. I'm here to tell you, that baby looks marvelous.

Our Woman in LA and I live in a cool city. We've traveled the world. We do cool things for a living. We have cool families and cool friends.

Nothing - not one part of that list - prepped us for how amazing it is to see our baby moving around in Steph's belly. This isn't hyperbole, and it's not any of that witty stuff we normally post. It's just incredible.

Here are a couple of other pertinent details:

1) Too soon to know the gender, but yes, we are going to find out whether it's a boy or girl. We're planners. It's not about painting our soon-to-be-former home office pink or blue, it's about preparedness. For what it's worth, everyone seems to have an opinion about what it will be, what sports team it will root for (which is comical, really, because of course it's going to be a Longhorns fan), and what it will do for a living (should we start spending its movie star/professional baseball player income now??). We just want it to be healthy and happy. The other stuff is gravy.

2) About this morning sickness stuff. It kind of reminds me of that essay question in high school World History. You know the one. "The Holy Roman Empire was neither holy, nor Roman, nor an Empire. Discuss." Yeah. Morning sickness is neither morning, nor really sickness in the regular sense. Steph says people don't really talk about the nausea, the grumbly stomach, the vomiting, the dizziness, and the general feeling of a hangover after a party given by Schumann.

I've never seen anyone smile through conditions like these (anyone remember how we all felt the day after Newton's law school graduation? Woof.). But Our Woman in LA is feeling good. And it's maybe starting to fade a little bit. Knocking on wood . . . reallly hard.

One last thing on the morning sickness point. What's with the conflicting old wives tales? First we hear bad morning sickness means it's a boy. Then we hear it means it's a girl. Seriously, can't all these old wives get together? If we can put a man on the moon, can't we get our old wives stories straight?

3) Due date: June 28, 2008.

A couple of notes on this date. Of course, Baby Wieland could be early or late in greeting the world. But I for one am happy with the June 28 due date. Why? Because if the baby comes on that day or later, it will not be a Gemini. And seriously, we're lousy with Geminis in this family. If it's a Gemini woman, so much more the worse. Consider: Steph's a gemini. So's my mom. So's her step-mom. So's our sister-in-law.

This has to end.

Note #2. June 28 is exactly two weeks after the opening of this year's City at Peace-Los Angeles show. No, of course Steph isn't taking time off. Sure, last year she was up till 4 a.m. every night during the week before the premiere. Yes, she's directing the show and its 50 or so teens again this year. What, me worry?

Steph's going to be fine. She's got a great staff, terrific support from City at Peace-National, and a group of kids who already look to be a great cast. It's going to be good. And hey, if Baby Wieland decides to come during the show, I can pretty much guarantee that the audience will never, ever forget this year's performance.

More to come on the baby. Happy Holidays to all! 2008 looks to be the best year yet.

Happy 70-degree Holidays!

2007-12-25T10:44:00.000-08:00

What, you say? It's not 70 degrees where you are, on this sunny and beautiful Christmas day? Seriously? It's not?

I mean, what more does Our Man in LA have to do to get you people out here?

That's right, 70 degrees, clear and sunny on December 25. Really good day to go to the beach (a trifle cold, I'll grant you), but pretty nonetheless.

So anyway, I'm not back on the blog just to gloat about the weather out here on the left coast. That's just a small side benefit to posting again. Instead, I'm here to catch up with old friends and readers, and to let you all know what's up. It seems like I've had a bit of a pattern going here of late. You know the one.

First I go on a long hiatus from blogging. Then I come back and swear - SWEAR! - that I'm going to start posting regularly. Then I do, for about a week and a half. And then we rinse and repeat. Each time I come back, it's with a vengeance and an armload of excuses. It's probably a little annoying to the reader . . . but you have to ride the horse that brung you.

So here they are, in quick succession and no particular order, my excuses for being away so long:

1) Started shooting a short film in rural Georgia. Our Woman in LA and I went down to the tiny hamlet of Colquitt, Georgia, a couple of months back to start work on the short film A GARDEN CALLED GRATITUDE. I'm working with the Swamp Gravy theatre company and Community Performance, Inc. to produce this project, hopefully the first of several short films. Our Man in LA serves as director of the film and also adapted the screenplay from the really amazing play VISITING HOURS. I'll be heading back there in the New Year to continue shooting.

2) Spent Thanksgiving with the wife's family in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Have you been to the Outer Banks? To be honest, I wasn't a believer. I thought, "Sure, it's a beach, but I've seen beaches. I live near a beach. Maybe you've heard of it . . ." I was wrong. Really gorgeous scenery, and Steph's dad rented a house that sleeps 30. You had to drive a couple of miles down the beach to even get there. We went kite flying, ocean fishing, and we even took the extra trip to Kitty Hawk to see where the Wright Brothers took their first flight. Pictures to follow, assuming that I get to it.

By the way, beautiful though the Outer Banks (official acronym: OBX) might be, Ohio is still the birthplace of aviation. Eat it.

3) The trailer to the new Batman movie is on line. I've seen it like a gazillion times, and it keeps getting cooler every single time I see it. Go to newsarama.com and fish around for the link.

4) Oh yeah, I had two one-act plays debut at the Ruby Theatre at the Complex in Hollywood. The shows - BABY ON BOARD and GAME NIGHT - were part of a one-act showcase back in October. Special thanks to Our Woman in LA for her incredible direction of GAME NIGHT and to longtime buddy Zack Durant for his direction of BABY ON BOARD. The plays of Wieland anchored the night - they were the first and last plays performed.

Not to be outdone, Our Man in LA directed one of the shows as well - returning the favor to Zack by working over his short play SMOKING.

5) Hard at work writing - working on a novel and doing some clean-up on a couple of scripts. And when I'm not doing that, I've been traveling a seriously crazy amount for the day job. Over the past couple of months, there have been six trips to one end of the country or another. Four more trips are planned for January alone.

6) Getting my blog on, travel-style. Check this out. Our Man in LA recently posted to the blog at Orbitz.com. Check out the link at blog.orbitz.com. Longtime readers will notice amazing similarities between the post on Orbitz and the drunken ramblings of Our Man in LA's Hawaiian Journal.

See what I mean, they're not really good excuses, but at least there are a bunch of them. If only I could come up with a good excuse for not posting over the last few months. What kind of excuse could I use . . .

Thinking . . .

No, I don't think renting Volver on Netflix and not watching it for two months counts. What else . . .? I knew there was something . . .

Oh yeah!

Our Woman in LA is with child. That's right, fools! She's HAVING A BABY!!!!!!! WE'RE GOING TO BE PARENTS!!!! THAT'S PARENTS, LA-STYLE!!!!!

That's a pretty good excuse. More to come.

Oh, Ohio: Another Travel Journal to an Exotic Locale

2007-09-21T08:38:00.000-07:00

Hey, folks. Our Woman in L.A. and I recently returned from a trip to Ohio to visit Our Man in L.A.'s mom. We were there for a couple of days. Now, I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking, "But Our Man in LA, just a couple of days in Ohio? You can't possibly do Ohio in a couple of days! The flats in Cleveland! The Horse Shoe in Columbus! The Air Force Museum and the blue suspension bridge from RAIN MAN! So many points of interest!"

Dayton by night. Ah, the Gem City.

Birthplace of the cash register, the airplane, the automobile self-starter, microfiche, water-proof cellophane, and gas masks. Setting of the first NFL game and the first pinewood derby.

Blogger's note to Ohioans reading this: Sorry if it feels like I'm picking on you. Yes, I know that Ohio is the birthplace of more Presidents than any other state. No comment on how good any of them were. And I know the Wright Brothers are from Dayton. Seriously, I get it. I don't mean to pick. Anyway, it's not like I wouldn't pick on any number of other states if I visited there. I mean, come on. Have you ever been to Arkansas? Or southern Illinois? Holy smokes.

But you still don't have an ocean or mountains.

Anyway, back to the travelogue. A couple of things I want to point out from our travels.

We had to rent a car for our stay, and man, did our rental car company hook us up. They gave us a Mercury Grand Marquis. Now, I don't mean to offend anyone out there, but have you seen these cars? They are hilarious. Why didn't we just get a different one you ask? Well, for one, the only other option available was a mini-van. Tempting as that was, we opted for the Mercury.

Seriously, this is what it looked like. Same color and everything. And navy blue shag-a-rific carpeting and seats inside. Dude, you step into this car, and you feel like you're ready to move to Florida. I think the white shoes and matching belt set come optional.

We flew into Columbus and then drove to Dayton. It's about a 70 mile journey through the heart of central Ohio. Along the way, we were quickly reminded that we were not in California anymore. No, it wasn't the weather. It wasn't even the plethora of Cracker Barrels or Waffle House restaraunts.

It was stuff like this . . .

Sorry for the wide-angle view. We didn't take this picture. (I know, I know. "You didn't take your camera to DAYTON?? Sorry, guys . . .)

Just in case you forgot your reading glasses, it's a gigantic roadside billboard that reads "JESUS IS REAL". If you click on the photo, you can see it better.

Wow.

Then, as if to top that one - or to be its friend, we saw another gigantic sign about a mile further down.

That's right. "IF YOU DIE TODAY, WHERE WOULD YOU SPEND ETERNITY?"

Do you think the question's meant to be rhetorical? Because 15 miles east of Springfield, OH, would not be Our Man in LA's first choice. I mean, even Our Man in LA's hometown of Kettering might be better for time immemorial.

Cause . . . you know, they've got a mall there. With a Bar Louie and a Border's. And . . . movie theaters . . .

I'm being snotty again, aren't I? Sorry. My bad.

Last day......

2007-09-13T07:57:00.000-07:00

Day 9.

This is Our Man and Woman in L.A.'s last full day in Hawaii. Deep heavy sigh. We wanted to spend the day doing really relaxing stuff. Soaking in the sun, hiking, a visit to the hotel spa.

We started the day with a morning hike. We heard there was a cool trail that started near our hotel called the Heritage Trail that was home to some archeological sites. Our Man in L.A. loves to get his history on. So, we were off. The trail was not too long (about 4 miles or so) but it definetely was a workout. Much of the hike was high above the ocean, which made for great ocean views. About 20 minutes into the hike, we saw this:

Ahh, nothing quite inspires confidence in hikers like signs of possible death. Love it.

As we continued, we did get to said archeological site. It was an ancient fishing village and the only remaining sign of it was this wall. I don't remember how far back it dates, but, I'm guessing pretty far.

At the end of the hike, we found this secluded and quiet beach. It was paradise. The water felt great on our tired feet.

After the hike, we headed back to the hotel and plunged into the pool. And the water slide. Got our tropical drink on. For free. Then, later that day, off to the hotel spa. The Hyatt spa is a bit out of control. In a really nice, uber calming, super detailed kind of way. Our Man in L.A. opted for a Swedish massage, and Our Woman in L.A. opted for the Thai massage. We left there feeling blissful.

But, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. The next morning we headed back to the airport for our journey home. Before that, we had time to take a picture of our last Hawaiian sunrise. It was breathtaking.

Thanks Hawaii. We really appreciated your hospitality. We are sure to return. Until then......

Up Next: Our Man and Woman in L.A. head to Ohio for the weeekend! Can't wait to see the ocean. Oh wait, there's no ocean there. What's that? It's going to be in the low 40's at night? Ahhh. Love that midwest.

Hawaiian Journal - Something I have in common with Anne Heche

2007-09-10T20:59:00.000-07:00

And it's not a made-up spaceperson language. I have an authentic one. But that's not important right now.

Day 8

Time was running short on our Hawaiian vacation, but Our Woman in L.A. and I had one more set of activities to go. We were headed on a half-day snorkeling and boating trip up to the beautiful and famous Na Pali Coast, on the north shore of Kauai.

Only three ways to get your Na Pali on: 1) By helicopter; 2) By boat - and not just any kind of boat will do (there are certifications, paperwork, a first born sacrificed . . .); and 3) Hike 13 miles one way to get to the edge of the coastline (and most of that 13 miles is mountain), and then a 13 mile trek back. For the record, I understand that the hike option is awesome, but, like the route to my father's elementary school, it is up hill, both ways. No snow, though, which is a plus.

Anyway, we took the boat. We'd seen it on Day 7 by whirly bird, so it was cool to get close up.

Before we got on the boat, though, we saw a geniune omen of a good day ahead. Check it out:

As soon as the boat got going, Our Woman in L.A. got happy. She was happy before, but nothing - and I mean nothing - turns that girl into a zen-like, "nothing can bother me" happy trance like quality time spent on a boat. Nothing. I mean it. Not fun dip, not chocolate or Indigo Girls concerts. Nothing. So this was pretty good. How good?

Check it out:

Notice here that Our Woman in L.A. is wearing a special dive shirt for our snorkeling adventure later on. We were good while in Hawaii. We used 50+ SBF sunblock, we tried to stay in the shade some of the time. But the dive shirt really makes a big diffference - especially if you're fair-skinned, sitting on the deck of a boat most of the day, and then swimming with the fishes.

For the record, Our Man in L.A. has one, too. It's a black turtleneck, which mean that I didn't sun burn, but I did look arty.

Anyway, on the way to the coast, we saw a lot of ocean life. Sea turtles swam by, flying fish jetted through the air, and dolphins jumped and played by the boat. We tried to photograph said dolphins, and you can almost make one out here:

Finally we got to the coast. It's pockmarked with caves and amazing nearly-untouched beaches. Remember how hard it is to get here? You can't even get to these beaches by hiking. They're amazing. Like this one (with the cave):

Incidentally, it's this beach that we have in common with Anne Heche. It's the beach from Six Days and Seven Nights, which I didn't see, but it's a pretty swell beach. One of the Jurassic Parks got shot here, too, but somehow the dinosaurs missed eating Ms. Heche.

We snorkeled around for about an hour, and then the boat took us back. Later that day, we treated ourselves to the local haute cuisine . . . at a little place called Bubba's Burgers. It was Bubbalicious. But the rest of the day called for vegging out by the hotel pool, and having a casual dinner at the hotel. For free, remember.

Ah, that's something that puts Our Man in L.A. in a blissful mood. Free drinks, too.

Tomorrow: One last full day in an Aloha State. Wow, it's even sad to type that.

Hawaiian Journal - Oh my God, Magnum!

2007-09-08T10:17:00.000-07:00

Day 7

Like a lot of people our age, Our Woman in L.A. and I got our first taste of the Hawaiian isles by watching Tom Selleck dispatching bad guys and speeding around in a Ferrari in episodes of MAGNUM, P.I.

Actually, only I got my first taste of Hawaii that way. Our Woman in L.A. is proud to point out that she was too young to watch that show, or was more interested in THE SNORKS during that era. Sigh.

Either way, we couldn't afford to rent a Ferrari to tool around the islands a la Magnum and the boys. But we could afford a helicopter tour of Kauai - which at least is something that T.C., Rick and Higgins would approve of. So early in Day 7, we approached the local HQ of Blue Hawaiian Helicopters, and they took us up in this thing:

We'd never been in a helicopter before, and it pretty much kicked ass. Sure, there was a little bit of nausea as we juked in and out of canyons, dipping and weaving from altitude to altitude. But where else are you going to get views like this one:

Or this one:

When the tour was over, they even gave us a DVD of our journey. It's really fun. We would share it with you, but . . . we really don't know how. I'm pretty sure it involves posting the video to Youtube, and then providing a link here. And, in keeping with the Hawaiian attitude, we're just not in a hurry to do that.

So when it was over, we returned to the hotel with just enough time for a drink, a change of clothes, and then a trip north to the town of Princeville, for dinner at the uber-chi-chi Princeville Resort.

But then . . . it happened. Remember that smell from the Day 6 post? Our Woman in L.A. swore she smelled something in our room? Remember how I told her she was nuts?

Yeah. Never question the nose.

So we're sitting on the balcony with those drinks I mentioned when we both started to smell a neighbor puffing away on a cigar. Our Woman in L.A. swears that it was a very intense cigar. I think it seemed serious and sincere, but questioning the Nose is what got me in this mess.

Calmly - quite calmly, actually - Our Woman in L.A. walked into the room, picked up the phone, and called the front desk. The conversation went like this --

Stephanie: Hi, I just wanted to report that there's a really intense cigar being smoked on our floor. I wanted to ask why.

Desk Jockey: Do you want me to send security?

Stephanie: I don't think it's a matter of security. I just don't understand why someone's smoking on our non-smoking floor.

(Silence)

Stephanie: I mean, this is a non-smoking floor. Correct?

Desk Jockey: Um . . .

Stephanie: Please tell me that you didn't put my husband and I on a smoking floor when we requested non-smoking more than six months. I know that you wouldn't put someone like me with severe allergies close to a bunch of smokers. That just doesn't sound like something the Hyatt would do, or am I wrong, ma'am?

And from there, the apologizing began (along with an offer to take Steph to the local hospital). I heard phrases like, "This is my vacation, so I'm not going to raise my voice, but I do need you to handle this with professionalism and grace." Either way, I think you get the picture.

The outcome? A new room on a non-smoking floor, free breakfasts for the rest of the trip, five free drink coupons, a free bottle of champagne, two free meal vouchers for something other than breakfast, and . . . well, I guess that's about it. We were happy. And so, we headed to Princeville.

The Princeville Resort is pretty ornate and cool. But let's let the pictures do the talking --

Unbelievable meal - and, as you can see, some of the best views on the island. After the meal was through, we stayed out on the terrace and watched the sun set over our dessert. Another perfect day.

Day 8: It starts with a rainbow . . .

Blog Interrupted

2007-09-08T10:07:00.000-07:00

Not that it's any big surprise to anyone, but Our Man and Woman in L.A. took a few days (OK, a week) away from posting, totally leaving you in suspense about the second half of our Hawaiian adventures. Mea culpa, mea culpa. But you probably expected it.

But look, this time we have legit excuses. Really, we do. What's more, these excuses will show you a side of Southern California that normally does not grace this blog. Like, for example:

1) Rolling Power Outages - That's right, last week was a particularly hot one in L.A., and with nearly 7 million people all needing their A/C, the Department of Water and Power (DWP or "those geniuses") couldn't keep up. Which meant that they planned blackouts for parts of the city to "manage" the demand for power. Our power was out every day for five days in a row, sometimes for as little as two hours, but sometimes for as much as 12. Other neighborhoods affected included virtually the entire city. Either way, it's tough to blog when you've got no electricity.

2) Earthquake - A 4.7 with epicenter in Lake Elsinore, which is . . . somewhere. It didn't do anything except shake our apartment a little, but it's a decent excuse. FYI, this was Our Woman in L.A.'s first quake (only my second).

3) Out of Town Travel - Our Man in L.A.'s work took him to Philadelphia for a meeting with a potential corporate sponsor. For those who don't know, Philadelphia is Our Man in L.A.'s least favorite East Coast city, and visiting the City of Brotherly Something often requires a day or two of recuperation.

That's it, really. But seriously, aren't those pretty good?

OK, back to work.

Hawaiian Journal - Things Have Been So Stressful, So NOW It's Time to Relax

2007-08-31T20:14:00.000-07:00

Day 6

People say that all good things must come to an end, and as such, Our Woman in L.A. and I had to pick up and leave Maui. But sometimes, when those good things come to an end, there's some interesting details in the fine print.

Like, for example, we still had four days left on our vacation. And this four days was on another island. We were headed to Kauai, the island considered most laid back and authentically Hawaiian. Phew! Because that Maui was a pressure cooker. Armed with new luggage (paid for by Hawaiian Air), we caught a flight out and headed to the so-called Garden Isle.

I've gotta say, folks on Kauai seemed pretty friendly. In fact, just as we left the rental car agency, we saw this little welcome sign . . . just for us.

Pretty sweet of them, huh? It's like they knew we were coming.

Note from Our Woman in L.A.: In case it's hard to see, the big sign says "Aloha! Welcome to Kauai"

Kauai's a pretty amazing place. It's one of the least inhabited of the islands, and it really does feature some of the most amazing flora and fauna around. What kind of fauna, you ask?

You know. Wild chickens.

That's right. Wild. Chickens. They're all over the place, wandering the fields, the forests, and yes, even the roads. They look a little bit like this . . .

There's a chicken outstanding in his field! Get it? Huh? Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.

Why'd the wild chicken cross the . . . field? To . . . sigh. Never mind.

Because this was a day of travel and transition for Our Couple in L.A., we didn't have much on the agenda. Just check into the old hotel (the Grand Hyatt Resort and Spa), have a good meal, and chill out in the new surroundings. With that in mind, here's a quick little view of our new digs:

Yeah, roughing it is tough, but we make due. After all, it's what made America great.

So into the Hyatt we went, checking into a room that was just about perfect. Just about? Yeah. Our Woman in L.A. swore she smelled something . . . strange? We both loved the room, but what was that smell? I said she was being crazy, but I should have known to trust the nose.

What was it? Find out on Day 7, True Believers!

That's right. Woo-hoo! We here at the Our Man in L.A. blog are all about keeping up the suspense. Chew on that for a day or so, guys. Chew on that, indeed.

How'd the rest of the night go? Well first we got gussied up to take in a meal at Tidepools, the swanky restaurant at the hotel. We looked kinda like this . . .

Great place, that Tidepools. Blue frozen drinks, an amazing scallop appetizer, Mahi-Mahi for the lady and "Opah" fish for the gentleman. And a chocolate dessert that pretty much was to die for. Or kill for. Or, at least, pay for. Which we did.

How good was the meal? I'll let Our Woman in L.A. explain . . .

Yeah. That about sums it up.

But don't get comfortable, folks. It's not all fabulous dinners and blue drinks in Kauai. No, sir. We still had adventures to experience, mountains to climb, oceans to ford, and the sky to conquer. Hold onto your hats (and seriously, if you don't have one by now, then I'm done telling you to hold onto it). It's not over yet.

Next post: Come fly away with Our Couple in Hawaii . . . and what was that smell?

Hawaiian Journal - If There's One Night Left, Spend it with Mama

2007-08-30T19:14:00.000-07:00

Day 5

Whew! Day 4 sure was long, wasn't it? Well worth it, from dawn till dusk, but long nonetheless. So when Day 5 hit - our last day in Maui - Our Woman in L.A. and I decided we needed to take a well-deserved vacation. You know, from our vacation.

What's that mean? We woke up early (but not with the alarm - that's just how we roll), we got some coffee (decaf, because who cares if we take a mid-day nap), and we walked the beach. Nobody was out. It was just us. It looked kinda like this . . .

And this . . .

When we were all done walking about, taking in the natural beauty, and drinking coffee, we got our snorkel gear on and took a closer look at one of the reefs close to the hotel. We don't have any pictures of the snorkeling, so you'll have to take my word for it: it was sweet.

For one thing, we saw sea turtles. They're cool little animals.

Once the snorkeling ended, we headed up to the adult pool, where wait staff brought us whatever we wanted. Use your imagination. We don't have any pictures of that, either, but I'll add that there is a swim-up bar at the hotel. It's near a water slide that's pretty fun, and who doesn't like to drink and slide?

Since we're low on pictures from this day, and our day pretty much focused on chilling, we'll give you this: the last sunset we saw in Maui from our balcony. Don't worry. This isn't the end of the posting. This is just where the sunset falls chronologically. Get it? Sunset falls? Anyone? Is this thing on?

After the sun went down, we headed back to the head of the Hana Road for a final dinner on Maui. We went to Mama's Fish House - described as "yum-my" by guidebooks all across the land. It's an open air restaurant with a view of the beach. So beautiful.

The food was fantastic - macadamia-encrusted crab cakes, Mahi-Mahi, pork and poi, coconuts - it was out of control. Not just great food, but great service as well. We spent a good half hour kicking back at the bar, talking about what it's like to live in a place like Maui.

Don't worry. We're not moving there (though it crossed our minds). The bartender gave us a lot of perspective about the Aloha isles. For example . . .

Quote of the Day #1: "I'm a transplant. I came over here from Denver, but you know, I got really tired of all the hustle and bustle." (Bartender Guy, 2007)

That's right, Chicago, New York, and L.A. readers. The hustle and bustle. Of Denver.

Doesn't matter. We ordered another round, listened to the surf, and enjoyed that final night.

Tomorrow: Kauai ho! And look out for the wild chickens!

Hawaiian Journal - It's the Journey, Not the Destination, Although . . .

2007-08-29T18:50:00.000-07:00

Day 4

If you ever go to Maui - and let's be honest, if you don't want to go to Maui by now, then we are not doing our jobs - everyone will tell you that you must (MUST!) drive the twisty, turny road to Hana. Or as Our Woman in L.A. calls it "The Scary Road to Hana." Hana's a small town on the edge of Maui, only accessible by a road with more hairpin turns than you can possibly anticipate.

Our Man in L.A. is a big believer that the journey is always more important than the destination. This was some journey.

We got up early, had breakfast in a small town on the way to Maui's Mother Road, and then started out. It's about 25 or 30 miles to Hana along the twisty road, but the trip took us about five hours on the way out. Why so long? It's not just the twists. It's the beauty, baby. You're in Hawaii. And so, as you go, you're stopping every mile or two to get out, hike around and see some of the most incredible landscape around.

Like this place. We'd heard there were these twin waterfalls, just off the road. A bunch of tourists hanging around made us believe this must be something worth seeing. It was. But it wasn't "just off the road" - there was hiking, a little minor climbing, and crossing perilously narrow bridges.

Note from Our Woman in L.A.: It wasn't perilous.

Note from Our Man in L.A.: Fine. You folks be the judges. Here's a picture of Our Woman in L.A. crossing the chasm . . .

Quote of the Day #1: "Probably I should have gotten some of those underwater shoes." (Chris Wieland, 2007)

The second of the twin waterfalls (not pictured here) was only accessible by crossing a small pond with an extremely rocky bottom. Our Man in L.A. felt he had to go. I only had sneakers, which I didn't want wet for all the hiking later that day, so I went barefoot. Yeah, maybe not the smartest idea. But you can't say I don't have an adventurous spirit. Or whatever.

We stopped at a bunch of other waterfalls along the drive. Here is one we thought was cool:

Of course, not all the places that we stopped to hike featured waterfalls. Some were just beautiful trails with a view of the ocean. Some even went so far as to post at the entrance to the hiking area: "No Waterfalls on this trail." Which made it especially ridiculous to hear . . .

Quote of the Day #2: "Where the waterfall at on this trail?" (Some yokel, 2007, standing next to a sign reading "No Waterfalls on this trail).

I mean, we like waterfalls as much as the next couple, but if you spend all your time looking for them, you miss sights like this one . . .

See? That's the coastline of the Road to Hana. I think we might have even taken this from the "No Waterfalls" trail.

Anyway, finally we reached Hana. And like something out of Gertrude Stein, our first reaction was, "Once you get there, there's no there there." It's a small, cute, remote Hawaiian town, sure. But we were tired, dusty, thirsty. Was this all there is?

As it turns out, no.

We heard rumors of a red rock beach, just a small hike from the town's main drag. Then we heard that maybe that getting there entailed a bit more than a "small hike.."

Quote of the Day #3: "I don't mean to suggest your life's in imminent danger, but there are a couple of places that are treacherous." (Serious Hiker Guy, 2007)

So we went for it. First, a climb through 100 yards of brush, then a steep, rocky trail that went down and then up. Then a short twisty trail around the side of a cliff, where we could only walk single file.

And then this . . .

It was a tiny cove with red sand, practically untouched except by locals. We climbed down and let the red sand run through our toes, watched the waves crash over the rocks.

Worth it? Totally.

When we left the red rock beach, we were still tired. But there were rumors of a black sand beach not far off - and actually on the way back. So at this point, you've got to see the black sand, right? Right.

When we got there, the black sand beach had several things to recommend it. First, it had a shaved ice vendor. Steph had a swirl of three colors and obscure flavors; I had four for myself. Relief started to creep in after the long day.

Quote of the Day #4: "This is all I need for where I am right now." (Stephanie Wieland, 2007, on the subject of shaved ice).

And when we were done, we wandered the black sand beach, which contained natural caves and, allegedly, blow holes. What's a blow hole, Our Woman in L.A. wondered. A minute later, the tide came in, water crashed against the rocks and came cascading out from the hole in the shoreline, drenching us both.

"Oh," she said.

But the most fascinating thing about the black sand beach was that the black part wasn't sand . . .

It was like pebbles. Cool, huh?

But all journeys must come to an end, and usually that means a return trip. So we headed back toward civilization, anticipating five more hours of travel. Really, it took less than two. Heading back, we saw fewer of the tourists and more locals. Or at least people who like racing around hairpin turns at 50 mph in cars that don't look like rentals.

So fast and furious were some of the drivers heading into Hana that Stephanie started praising the ones who were careful . . .

Quote of the Day #5: "I appreciate you, orange car. Thank you!" (Stephanie Wieland, 2007, to a safe driver in . . . an orange car.)

But then, even the drive back had obstacles. People don't normally think of agriculture in Hawaii, but it's there, and especially along the Road to Hana, you see your share of farms and animals. I even stopped to take a photo of one. Looked something like this . . .

But Our Woman in L.A. would have none of it.

Quote of the Day #6: "Don't stop to take their pictures! They might attack!"

Clearly, we were all very tired. We headed back to Kihei, got amazing curry at the local Thai place, and headed back for a well-deserved night's rest.

Tomorrow: Sea turtles, a day at the beach, and a night with Mama.

Hawaiian Journal – Enough of all the excitement, let’s kick back and dive down

2007-08-28T21:33:00.000-07:00

Day 3

In our first two days in Maui, there’d been a lot of excitement and to-do. There’d been travel, and broken Magellan systems, warm nuts and shredded luggage. Maybe a little too much activity, we figured.

So we decided to take a break – chill on the beach, get a few more of those frozen beverages, and see a little bit of Hawaii’s natural beauty.

In Our Man in L.A.’s case, I decided to check out some of the natural beauty below the waves. I went SCUBA diving for the first time.

SCUBA’s always held a major fascination for me, but let’s face it: grow up in the Midwest, and you’re not going to get many chances to dive. As far as I know, there’s very little reef activity in the Ohio River. And I guess you could do it in one of the Great Lakes, but the required bath of Purell that follows was discouraging.

But the Fairmont had an introductory class, so I was off and . . . diving.

That’s Our Man in L.A. about 25 feet below the surface, holding a starfish. Those suckers can move. By this time, I was used to taking in the oxygen from the tank, and I was getting into it. From afar, we could see turtles out there, and tons of snapper, and a few living things like this one . . .

This is a sea pillow, one of those crazy little creatures that live on the reef. Not to be confused with the sea urchin, which looks similar but with more pronounced spikes. You don’t pick those up. Unless you’re into pain. And hospitalization.

Seriously, one of the coolest things Our Man in L.A. has ever done. The plan now that we’re back is to get SCUBA-certified, and take a few of these dives every year. You may have heard, we have an ocean here in California, too. In fact, it’s the same one! Who would have guessed?

It’s addictive being down there. I’ve got to go back. And when you’re done, it’s even sweet coming back up . . .

Quote of the Day #1: “Ah, it’s good to breathe through your nose again.” (Chris Wieland, 2007).

Amen, brother. Take off that mask, and breathe deep. You’re in Hawaii.

Editor’s note: While Our Man in L.A. took his first ever SCUBA dive, Our Woman in L.A. went to the spa at the Fairmont, where she chilled out and got girlie treatments and a massage. No pictures are available of this. You’ll just have to take her word for it.

Anyway, as the Replacements once sang, “A person can work up a mean, mean thirst after a hard day of nothing much at all.” It’s true. After the SCUBA and the spa, and lying around on the beach for hours, we were thirsty again – and hungry. So we went into the little town of Kihei to catch a bite, at a sushi place called Sansei.

Quote of the Day #2: “Uh . . . was that Clint Eastwood?”

Yeah, it was. Coming out of Sansei as we were walking in. We did a total double take.

Turns out Clint comes to the islands often, to golf and hang out, and really, to do whatever Clint wants to do. He’s Clint. Are you going to argue with him?

Celeb sightings are fairly common for us since moving west, but it’s rare that you get a really good one . . . like Clint. And it’s rare that you get someone like that coming out of the same restaurant you’re heading into. In fact, Our Woman in L.A. said:

Quote of the Day #3: “If Clint Eastwood eats here, it’s probably pretty good.”

And it was. In fact, it was the best sushi I’ve ever had. Crazy mango-crab rolls. Amazing hand rolls and sashimi and . . . look, it was just the best ever. Sushi so good that Dirty Harry leaves his gun at home. I think. Clint didn’t seem to be packing . . .

Tomorrow: The Endless road and the hidden treasures

Hawaiian Journal - Feast Your Eyes on this Lele

2007-08-27T19:41:00.000-07:00

Day 2

Waking up in Hawaii is one of the best things ever. Well, actually, just waking up without an alarm clock. Or a to-do list. Or . . . did I mention that we hadn't been on vacation in four years?

You know that things have gotten restless in your life when your spouse says, as Our Woman in LA did not so long ago: "My idea of Heaven is a place with no to-do lists." Amen, sister. Heaven is a place called Hawaii. Let's get our Heaven on.

Exhibit One: Happy feet.

We went to the beach the morning of Day 2 and just chilled. Steph and her feet got happy (see above). How do you know they're happy? Dude, look at all that sand on them!

Our Man in LA even found time to relax with a book. That's right, I said it. Relaxing. I can do it.

But eventually, we did have to get up and go. Which leads us to . . .

Quote of the Day #1: "Magellan is no Magellan." (Chris Wieland, 2007)

This is the car we used to tool around on Maui. Yeah, it's a red convertible.

Anyway, when you're in a new and different place, it's easy to get lost along the way. That's why the rental agencies (in this case, Hertz) provide - for just a few dollars more - a GPS navigational system. In this case, they handed the Wielands a Magellan.

It was awesome. Loved that little thing. I felt like we could go anywhere, and it's little robotic heart would lead us in the least convoluted way possible.

That is, until it died. On our way to the luau.

It's cool. We're on vacation. In Hawaii. Which means that nothing phases us. Our Woman in LA did call Hertz to "discuss" the broken Magellan, but that's neither here nor there. Yes, the conversation did include the phrase, "Well, yeah, I know you're going to refund us for the Magellan, I'm just interested in how you're going to make this up to us and save our business." (Stephanie Wieland, 2007)

I love my wife. And you should know that Hawaii had an effect - no raised voice at the fool manning the phones back at Hertz central. Just calm, collected customer dissatisfaction. Ah, the islands.

Plus, you gotta figure that losing the Magellan is the Universe's way of telling us to be a little more adventurous. OK. Game on, Universe.

Sans Magellan, we made our way up the coast to Lahaina, home of The Feast of Lele, infamous luau. Such a beautiful locale. We were super-psyched to have our own table and from the very moment that they slipped the leis around our necks, it seemed like it would be a magical night.

Then . . .

Quote of the Day #2: "You can take the lei off if it's suffocating you." (Chris Wieland, 2007)

Our Woman in L.A. was a sport. She wore the flower lei through at least two of her tropical drinks, until I noticed her eyes watering.

"Aw, honey, are you crying?" I asked.

"No," she said. "I'm fine. This is really beautiful." Insert sneeze here.

"Seriously, are you OK?"

"Um . . . I think the flowers in this lei are making it hard for me to breathe. But it's cool."

Yeah, she had an allergic reaction. But she really wanted to wear that lei. We compromised. She could take it off and drink more frozen/tropical/rum-filled drinks. This is why I'm a sensational negotiator.

At the luau, you dine on five courses - each one native to one of the South Pacific islands - Hawaii, Samoa, New Zealand, Tahiti and . . . uh, another island. A tropical one. We really liked this course, which might be Samoa. It's hard to say. There was a bit of alcoholic beverage served . . .

Of course, one of the reasons you go to the luau is to see the entertainment - traditional island dances and customs, including hula and fire dancing. Hold onto your hats (if you have hats), this is pretty cool. I want to pause here and recognize Our Woman in L.A. for her fabulous photography skills, especially during the luau performance. We both really enjoyed the entire performance.

Take a look . . .

Truly a great way to spend Day 2 in one of the most beautiful places we've ever been.

Post-script: First, a disclaimer from Our Woman in L.A.: "It may look like we were drunk off our asses the entire time we were in Hawaii. We weren't. Not the entire time. And we really were careful about not drinking and driving. That's one to grow on, brought to you by Kona Beers, makers of Longboard Lager."

Post script 2: Here's another picture of Our Man in L.A. getting his drink on:

Tomorrrow: Starfish, sushi, spa, and a man with no name.

Hawaiian Journal-at last the truth comes out!

2007-08-26T20:15:00.000-07:00

Hey there, folks!

Both Our Man and Our Woman in L.A. here. You might have heard that we recently took a sojourn to Hawaii for nine days. Heck, you might have assumed that was the reason nobody's been blogging around here lately. That's partially true. But, either way, we'd be remiss in sharing all our adventures on the left coast if we left out our travels in Maui and Kauai. Hawaii is, after all, one of those "western states."

So for the next nine days feast your eyes right here as we share with you our exclusive Hawaiian Journal! You'll find it all in here - helicopters, scuba, Hula Girls, and many a frozen drink. Read on, enjoy, and take heart: the Hawaiian Journal contains virtually none of Our Man in L.A.'s opinions on Michael Vick or the Bush administration. They get a break for eight days.

Day One:

First Quote of the Day: "I guess all that travel for work isn't so bad." (Chris Wieland, 2007)

Because of all my travel for the man (aka, the day job), we scored copious amounts of Frequent Flier miles on American Airlines. So many, in fact, that we were not only able to fly to Hawaii for free, but we also were able to upgrade to First Class for free.

That's right, baby. Warm nuts.

(Note of explanation demanded by Our Woman in LA: In first class, they serve passengers a small bowl of mixed nuts that have been warmed in an oven. Few things bring such joy to Our Woman in LA. In fact, we have considered buying mixed nuts at home, and warming them. Just to keep the morale high. "Warm Nuts" is not an album by Barry White, though it sounds like one.)

Other food items in first class included: hot fudge sundae, your choice of chicken or pasta, fresh warm rolls (also a hit with Our Woman in LA), salads, and all the free booze you can drink (which is plenty).

Second Quote of the Day: "Would you like a shot of anything you want for just three extra dollars?" (Waitress at Stinger Ray's Bar and Grille, Honolulu Airport, 2007)

Had a bit of a layover in Honolulu. Decided to get a snack - and a beverage - before heading to Maui. Can you believe the hospitality in these islands? A shot? Of anything I want? For just three more dollars?

Baby, we're on vacation.

Third Quote of the Day: "This luggage shredded, courtesy of Hawaiian Air." (Chris Wieland, 2007)

Uh, yeah. This isn't the way our luggage looked when we checked it. But since we'd already been to Stinger Ray's, we did have to look twice. And confer.

Eric at Hawaiian Air was really cool and reimbursed us for the destroyed duffel bag and roller board. Nothing lost, and we still had a decent buzz going.

Fourth Quote of the Day: "$89 for hummus, Lay's chips and a split of champagne." (Room Service Staff, 2007)

Got to the hotel - the incomparable Fairmont Kea Lani on Maui - and ordered up a snack. An expensive snack.

Luckily, we had this amazing ocean view from our room to keep us happy.

Fifth - and Final - Quote of the Day: "This is the best cabernet reduction sauce I've ever had. Did I just say that?" (Stephanie Wieland, 2007)

Finished off Day One with a great dinner at Nick's Fishmarket in the Kea Lani. Unbelievable food and view of the ocean. The waiters seemed impressed that we ordered another bottle of champagne. We tried to tell them - when you don't go on vacation for something like four years, you come out swinging.

Tomorrow: Who wants to go to a Luau???

Paradise Island.....

2007-08-23T21:46:00.000-07:00

Hey Y'all, it's Our Woman in L.A. here. We're back from Hawaii, things have just been busy. Our Man in L.A. and I are going to post a for-real blog this weekend. In the meantime, here are a few pictures from our trip to Hawaii. I've just got four words for you.....big blue tropical drinks!

Tuesday Top Five Returns with a new spin

2007-07-31T15:00:00.000-07:00

Yeah, that's right. I had another one of those furloughs from the blog. Another week or so where I just go on walkabout and don't pay any attention to my regular posting diet. I could apologize from now until doomsday, but would that get you your regular blog entries?

No, sir, it wouldn't.

Which is why I'm back with a new kind of Tuesday Top Five . . . Top Five Excuses I've Got. Silly, you say? Obnoxious, maybe? Well, sure. But how many times have you endured some blogger or newspaper columnist just going on and on about how hard it is to write a column? Or about whether Kobe Bryant will patch things up with the Lakers ownership? Or whether Lindsay's last rehab tour was a waste of money?

So here we go. Five halfway decent excuses for why I haven't been writing:

5. Strange Questions Being Asked At My Office. So, as most of you know, I've recently moved my daytime operations (aka, the Job) from Casa del Wieland in Los Feliz to an office space in Korea Town. It's been great so far. I like being able to get out of the house, and I even missed the commute - which I know sounds crazy for one living out here in the City of Angels - but seriously, a 15-minute drive down Vermont Avenue works perfectly. In the morning, it's just the right amount of ESPN radio. In the evening, it's decompression from a long day.

But offices yield strange conversations from time to time. Like today, when one of my co-workers, having read a review of Warren Ellis' novel in the LA Times, started the following one with me --

Co-Worker: Hey, English major. You studied English, right.

Me: Yeah. Sort of.

Co-Worker: What's polyamorous mean?

Apparently the word had been used to describe one of Ellis' characters. Now look, I know what it means. I even have a number of synonyms bouncing around inside my skull. Things like slutty and promiscuous, and stuff like that. But I'm in an office now (at the YMCA, for God's sake - where we're building strong kids and families every day!), so I have to watch my tongue.

Only how do you describe "slutty" in an office without offending someone? Or getting written up in some way? It's unnerving. More to the point, when you say this --

"It means - ahem - one who has a lot of partners."

And the other person says this --

"You mean like a lot of dancing partners?"

What do you do? What DO YOU DO?

Yeah, I know, it's a rotten excuse. So let's try this one . . .

4) Going to Hawaii at the end of the week. That's right. Our Woman in LA and I are taking off for the land of Magnum P.I. on Friday after a Thursday night stop-over in San Francisco. And we're not even packed.

See that picture at the top of the post? That's where we're going. But we haven't bought the travel-sized toiletries yet. Busy, busy, busy!

Could you blog at a time like this? What's that? I am blogging at a time like this. Sigh.

3) I'm extremely nervous about the potential expansion of the Big Ten. As regular readers know, Our Man in LA - like virtually everyone else who grew up in states bordering the Great Lakes - went to college at a school in the Big Ten. I've followed the conference practically since birth, even though I had the audacity to attend a school other than the ones favored by either my father's side of the family or my mother's side.

It turns out that next year, the Big Ten - which has always been one of the most, if not the most, popular college sports conferences - will launch its own cable network. In the beginning, they'll mostly broadcast sports like soccer, hockey, and swimming. Then the occasional football or basketball games featuring lesser teams will start to appear (think Northwestern v. Minnesota in . . . well, really almost anything).

Finally, the big stuff will end up there. Ohio State-Michigan in football. Indiana-Illinois in basketball. You get the picture.

To pull it off, the Big Ten is looking to expand, adding another university to the fold. This makes me a little sad, of course, because they already have 11 members despite being "ten." Adding a 12th member, well . . . the mind reels.

Of course, it's not the first time the conference has talked of doing this. Usually the discussion is focused on Notre Dame or Missouri or someplace like that. Something that sort of fits. Yokels from Ohio will throw out things like the University of Cincinnati or the University of Louisville, even though they don't really fit. Yokels from Pennsylvania will talk about why the University of Pittsburgh should join, and if you disagree, they'll say --

"Dan Marino went there! I'll fight ya!"

But none of these fine institutions are in the Big Ten's sights these days. Nope. They're looking East - to the likes of Syracuse (home of the Orangemen) and Rutgers (home of the Scarlet Knights, and neighbors to my brother- and sister-in-law). Sure these schools are pretty far East, but that'll be good for Penn State, the Big Ten argues.

By the way, above #3, that's the Syracuse Orange. His name's Otto. Seriously.

Oh yeah, and either one of them would help deliver the New York market to the Big Ten Network. Which, you know, is a consolation for stretching the Conference from its usual hunting grounds in the Midwest.

New York's no Des Moines, I grant you, but . . . forget it. It's not even that funny a joke.

So how could I . . . OK, next excuse.

2) I'm only 200 pages into the latest Harry Potter, and I want to finish before Thursday.

There's actually no joke here. Steph had the book last week in New York, and I got started last night. Don't tell me any spoilers. I won't believe you. I went to two spoiler sites before the book came out, and they told me diametrically opposed things.

So seriously, as soon as I finish this post, or at least my work day, it's back to reading.

So there's really only one excuse left. And it's this:

1. I turned 35 last week, and I'm still recovering.
Others have written about this, and I'm afraid I can't do it justice. Plus, there are pictures if you follow this link here.

Special Guest Writer! Put on your Ranting Shoes for this one!

2007-07-11T16:27:00.000-07:00

At this point, it's a surprise to exactly . . . ahem . . . nobody that Our Man in LA can't always keep up with the grind of the daily blog posts. From time to time, I have to depend on the kindness of friends and relatives with a desire to put their voices out into the Internet ether.

Hence, today's lecturer, Rob Schumann. By the way, that's a photo of Rob (circa 1998) above, courtesy of Moecain.com.

Why did I choose Rob for this mammoth duty? Well, for one, he brings a distinct voice. For two, he's ranting about politics, and any time I can have someone else who shares my liberal views spout off, I'm all in.

For three, he's one of my only friends that doesn't have a blog to call his own.

So here's Rob (now in Italic form!):

Did you see Sicko?

On a hunch, I checked out Conservapedia's "definition" of Universal Health Care and thought I'd attach it for you. It's rather humorous.

(Editor's note: here's what Conservapedia says about Universal Health Care -- in bold.)

On Friday, June 29th, 2007, the new Michael Moore movie, 'Sicko', was released in the United States.

The movie is full of lies and propaganda regarding the supposed benefits of a system and uses extreme cases in both the United States, Canada, the United Kingdom, and France in order to generate highly specific, false comparisons in order to persuade the viewer.

There are many Bible references which refute any advocation of Universal Health Care:

Thou shalt not steal (Exodus 20:15)

Cursed is the man who moves his neighbor’s boundary stone (Deuteronomy 27:17)

For even when we were with you, this we commanded you, that if any would not work, neither should he eat (II Thessalonians 3:10)

What Mr. Moore fails to realize, and what perhaps the people of every industrialized nation in the world except for the Great and Glorious nation of America fail to realize, is that it is unmistakably stated in the Bible that a person's property rights must be respected by others, lest they endure the fiery pits of hell. What he advocates here, not only the forced subjugation of our will by the government in order to take from the righteous and give to the weak and lazy sinner, but that already agreed upon contracts between individuals and corporations be broken just so that these individuals can receive "necessary care" that they "cannot afford" because they do not have the "means."

Those who are truly righteous in the eyes of the Lord labor hard, hard indeed, for their gains, and those who are genuinely deserving of miracles will have worked hard enough to be able to afford them. It is an insult to ask these same people to sacrifice themselves in order to appease those who commit one of the seven deadliest sins: sloth.

These people, these communists and fascists, who claim to be for the good of mankind, in clear opposition to everything right in holy in this world, simply have one quality: selfishness. They would rather see their expenses paid for by someone else rather than themselves. So those who have worked hard enough to be fortunate in the eyes of God shall facilitate the sins of others. Indeed, this is true lies at their absolute worst.

If one reads Luke 4:1-13, they would know that Jesus refused control of the political kingdoms of earth because it is a sin to have other gods above god. Also Jesus knew that true virtue is in the voluntary compassion of people to one another. Why should corporations sacrifice their profits while they are already doing so much to help the people of the world: providing them jobs which sustain them, and allow them to pay for what health care they can afford, day care, and mortgages. Also, as we know from his original campaign Our Leader encourages "compassionate conservatism", so the government is already promoting what is right. Those who advocate Mr. Moore's policies should consider being charitable themselves, rather than expecting the fortunate to do it for them.

Free universal health care is against everything God stands for, and thus must be prevented. Man is not meant to depend on the generosity of other man, thus leading him into temptation and sinking into depths of depravity. Due to this, the glorious free market capitalist stance that our country currently takes on this matter is Right and Just.

(Editor's note: Normally, Our Man in LA would say something like, "Mmmm, smells like fascism to me" or "How ironic is it that the only people who really believe in government-mandated survival of the fittest are the very people who don't want Darwinism taught in public schools?" But this is Rob's rant. Onward - in Italics!)

I don't know enough about the whole situation to make a firm judgment, and that's why I want to go with Heather just because she works in the medical field and has a better grasp of things. Now I know that Michael Moore takes extreme examples (duh!) but the basic points are still there: why shouldn't every citizen of the US get health coverage? It shouldn't compromise the level of care you're going to get, and you should still be able to get 2nd opinions, etc.... The specialized doctors will still be able to make their big bucks.

I love when people try to assume that Universal Heath Care means we're trying to give free care to illegal immigrants. Ughhhh. As much of a liberal as I am, I'm not someone out there saying that illegal immigrants should get SS benefits or be privy to free health care. We should try to make them legal citizens so that they can pay taxes and be...well...citizens. They didn't break the law any more than every other person who drives more than 55 on the highway, or anyone who ever drank alcohol before they were 21 years old.

Do you ever listen to Laura Ingraham? Total Conservative Nutjob on the radio... Comes on and reads a story about a carload of people that got into a chase and got into an accident killing 3 people. Horrible story...Turns out the driver and passengers were illegal immigrants, and she has the CAHONEYS to say "this is what happens when we just let them in...they don't pay attention to our rules, don't have insurance, and this is what happens." It was all I could do to not scream! Like LEGAL citizens don't drive like assholes every 5 minutes and cause accidents, killing people.

But back to health care (I really need to rant I guess...I need a blog...ha!), how is it possible that people's basic argument is "we shouldn't just be charitable and provide health care for those who cannot afford it." Who the F actually feels that way? I mean...did you see one of the BIBLE verses they attached trying to defend against universal health care: "Thou Shalt Not Steal." WTF?!?! How? Wha-?? HUH?!?!

Ughhhhh....I could go on, but I think I'm done blowing off steam for the moment.

Our Man in LA here. Really, there's much, much more. Once you get a good Shoes started, you just can't stop him. So we may have him back tomorrow. Tune in here.

And yes, I'll try to find a more embarrassing photo for the second rant.

Nothing like a fake city to get the party started . . .

2007-07-09T15:49:00.000-07:00

I haven't written much about comics lately. It seems like politics have taken over this space for a lot of the last several months. But I was compelled to write after I saw this site.

It'll take you to another blog dedicated to discussion and ridicule of the various fictional cities and towns of the DC Comics universe, debating what happened to them, what super heroes live there now (since they've been more or less abandoned), and so on. There's also a lot of space dedicated to the sexual identity of obscure Golden Age super-hero Black Condor (who was, in his secret ID, a United States Senator).

Feel free to respond to that as you will.

As for the fake cities, I love this kind of discussion. You see, a great deal of debate exists online and elsewhere about the geographic locations of the made-up cities where the super-heroes dwell. While I never weigh in (because I guess that would cross some kind of line), I enjoy reading comics geeks raging about where their fave heroes live.

For example, we've all heard of Metropolis, right? It's where Superman lives, and it's usually considered to be modeled on New York. According to DC Comics, Clark Kent grew up in Smallville (which is supposedly in Kansas), and then he moved to Metropolis . . . which is in Delaware.

Rage, rage, rage against the dying of the four-color light!

Likewise, we know that Batman lives in Gotham City, which is also based on New York (though the new movies shoot their locations in Chicago, and hell, Metropolis and Gotham couldn't possibly be in the same place, right?!!?!). Anyway, DC Comics says Gotham's in Jersey, not far from Atlantic City.

There are tons of other fictional cities - which gives the geek population more time to rage. There's Central City, where the Flash used to live, which might be in Illinois, Ohio, Missouri, or Kansas. Reports vary. There's Keystone City, where he lives now, which might be in Pennsylvania, Ohio, Kansas, or . . . well, it doesn't matter.

Then there's Coast City, which is sort of LA and Santa Barbara mashed together, but that doesn't stop the geeks online from occasionally arguing that it must - MUST - be on the gulf coast of Florida, Bama, or Texas. Or Star City, home of Green Arrow, which has been placed alternately by DC Comics as a stand-in for Boston, Chicago, and San Francisco, three cities that have . . . not a whole lot in common.

This site also refers to a few lesser-known "fictionopolises", like:

1) New Venice - ostensibly a Florida city where Aquaman used to hang out, and where all the roads are canals;

2) Midway City - Hawkman's old home, which . . . well, frankly has nothing particularly interesting to say about it. I've seen it depicted as being somewhere in the upper Midwest - Michigan, Illinois, or Wisconsin.

3) Civic City - where the Justice Society hung out during World War II, which might be in Pennsylvania, but really, nobody knows.

4) Federal City - which sounds like Washington, DC, but isn't . . . but I don't know why.

5) Middletown - where the Martian Manhunter lived. This might be in Colorado. And really, that makes sense! Who wouldn't put a semi-nude green super hero with a cape in the middle of Colorado?

There are more, but I don't need to fan these flames any more than they've already gone. And sorry, I can't answer questions about why no super-heroes live in your hometown. Yes, I know that there are no heroes to speak of in the Southeast or Southwest, and that the Midwest's hero population is thinning.

Or is it? Where should these cities be??

Dude, if we can start this debate on my blog, I'll be forever grateful.

Transit for the masses whether they use it or not

2007-07-09T10:13:00.000-07:00

I took the L.A. Subway for the first time last week. Sure, I had heretofore held steady with the belief that the Metro line, despite having stops in my neighborhood, really only existed so that action heroes like Jack Bauer and the Keanu Reeves character in SPEED could fight bad guys there. But over the years, friends have taken it without incident, and Our Man in LA felt like he should give it a spin.

The decision, FYI, coincides with my decision to work at home less and move into the YMCA of the USA's Los Angeles offices, which are in Koreatown at New Hampshire and Wilshire.

K-Town's one of those LA neighborhoods that the tourists don't know much about, but it's a super-cool enclave, complete with some of LA's coolest architecture, decent bars and restaurants, and a cool nightlife. When Our Woman in LA drives home at night from the West Side, she swears by the couple of miles down the Wilshire corridor in K-Town. At night, the billboards light up, the mega-tron TVs alight on the sides of skyscrapers. People are out on the streets. You don't feel like you're in the United States anymore. It's a cool drive that reminds you that you're in a big city.

New Hampshire and Wilshire also happens to be three subway stops from our neighborhood, so there's another reason for the mass transit.

So what's the verdict? How did the LA Metro stack up?

Pretty well, actually. There are pros and cons, but I'd do it again. Consider some pros:

1) It really is fast. Sure, I was only on for three stops, but it literally took me under ten minutes to go from Vermont and Wilshire to Vermont and Sunset.

2) It's pretty cheap. $1.25 for a ticket's a good deal.

3) Public art. The two Vermont stations I spent the most time in were loaded with public art. Sculptures and murals by local artists. Moreover, the stations themselves are clean, architecturally sound, and user-friendly.

4) Trains really come every five minutes during peak times. And the cars are crowded and clean. Some of my friends have compared it favorably to the train system in Toronto. Never been to that one, but it held its own with New York, Boston, and Chicago.

There are cons, of course. LA's subway is the 9th most-used in the country (thought the light rail is third most-used, according to the fine folks at Wikipedia). As for the cons:

1) I'm not sure how they monitor ticket sales. This isn't a huge problem for me, but I bought a ticket that nobody took, and then I got on. No turnstiles, card checker machines, or porters on the train, as far as I can tell. Which makes it something of an honor system train. Not sure if that works.

2) Here's the big one: Even though it works perfect for Our Man in LA right now, the train doesn't go everywhere that it needs to. For the LA Metro system (which includes both subway and light rail) to really serve the city, it's got to go to at least half a dozen places it doesn't serve right now. Like where? How about Santa Monica, Westwood, Century City, Culver City, Venice, and - the biggest one of all - LAX. That's right. It doesn't go to the airport. Or really anywhere on the West Side. There is a line that goes from downtown to Redondo Beach, south of the airport - and you can take a bus from there. But that sort of eliminates the point.

Right now, the train's great if you live and work in downtown LA, K-Town, MacArthur Park, Hollywood, Los Feliz, the Valley, Pasadena, Long Beach or points in between. West of Western and you're pretty well out of luck.

I figure the city'll get there eventually. There are existing rail lines from before the days of the freeways, and they could be converted for light rail. Someday - hopefully sooner than later - there'll be rail lines that will take you to all the airports (LAX, Ontario, Long Beach, Burbank, etc), as well as Dodger games and the ocean. Till then I'll take it to and from work.

You know, on days when I don't sleep too late and have to drive.

It just might be a Top Five . . . but who's counting

2007-07-03T11:40:00.000-07:00

Between being a bad blogger and very busy in every other segment of my life, I realize that I haven't done a real TUESDAY TOP FIVE in months and months. But truth be told, I'm not sure I have five things to trumpet this week. But it's Tuesday, and I'm feeling guilty, so . . .

Well, we'll just call this STUFF I'M VIBING ON (unless there actually are five, in which case, we'll return to the original title). So here we go . . .

FLIGHT OF THE CONCHORDS - Have to say I was more than a little worried about what to watch on TV this summer, and it's been kind of a dismal year for comedy on the small screen (THE OFFICE notwithstanding). Until I saw this.

Oh my freaking God! So funny! The story of Jemaine and Brett, ex-pats from New Zealand trying to make it as a band in New York. It's shot like a rock video from the 80s, and each episode makes me laugh out loud.

Give them a listen. Try "The Most Beautiful Girl in the Room"; "Inner City Pressure"; or "She's so Hot! BOOM!"

If you're truly bold, there's a lot more on Youtube.

Just outstanding. Anyway, moving on . . .

BASEBALL - Even though it's always been pretty far down my list of sports hierarchy (below college and pro football and college and pro basketball), I've been really getting into America's pasttime this season.

Probably it's that both the Angels and Dodgers are doing great. I tend to be pretty fairweather about the game, so it helps to have two teams within an hour of me that win more than they lose. Plus, the Angels employ the rally monkey, and you know that can only lead to good.

Our Woman in LA already has promised that we'll hit at least a game or two more this season, which may mean that even she's getting behind the baseball jones. I would say more, but I don't want to wreck it.

CITY OF TINY LIGHTS by Patrick Neate. Great hard-boiled murder mystery in the tradition of Hammett, Chandler and MacDonald. Only it takes place in modern London. And the private eye hails from India by way of Uganda, and he fought the Soviets as part of the mujahadeen in Afghanistan. The caper moves along fast, incorporating murdered members of Parliament, terrorist wannabes, surgically-enhanced prostitutes, and a Herculean number of references to the game of Cricket.

Good stuff. Worth the read.

FIREFLY - The canceled Joss Whedon show. I'll admit, it took me the first disc to get into it, but when the show takes flight, it really rocks.

I know what you've heard. It's a western in space, with the characters occasionally speaking Chinese. It sounds weird. Yeah, yeah, yeah. But it's Joss Freakin' Whedon, for one. And his brand of humor and action really shines through once you get going.

Also, for the comics fans out there, it's definitely Joss' wind-up to start writing the X-Men for Marvel. All the cast regulars correspond pretty easily to stalwart characters from Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Unlike the movies, the Wolverine type - a tough guy called Jayne - isn't the focus. Instead it's on the Cyclops of the bunch - Captain Mal Reynolds (played by Nathan Fillon, late of BUFFY).

For what it's worth, Fillon's great. And he should have played Cyclops in the X-Men films. Personality-wise, he would have seemed a good foil for Hugh Jackman's scenery-chewing Wolverine.

I'm just saying.

So what is that? Four? Then the title sticks: "STUFF I'M VIBING ON."

My rating won't hurt my box office!

2007-07-02T14:58:00.001-07:00

Good news, folks!

There's a site out there called:

http://mingle2.com/blog-rating

Basically, it's a ratings system for blogs. And at the encouragement of one of my friends, I submitted Our Man in LA for review.

I'm a PG. That's right. Some material not suitable for children. Keep that in mind the next time you're dying to have Junior read one of my rants. I'm not dangerous, but I just might be inappropriate. I'm just saying.

For the record, I'm not even sure what movies are PG anymore. But I do know that there's virtually no audience members who'll get turned away from Our Man in LA, and isn't that really what we all need and want?

So what kept me from the family-friendly G rating, you might be wondering?

Basically, I have - in the past several months - used the word "gun" 5 times (usually to suggest that we have more control over these weapons); the word "steal" 2 times (not sure why); and the word "suck" 2 times.

Dude! Doesn't it suck when someone steals your gun? Steal, steal, steal. Gun, gun, gun. Suck, suck, sucking suck.

Wonder if I'm PG-13 now.

Hanging with a certain Dane . . . and I don't mean Cook

2007-07-02T14:32:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's just that I've lived almost three years in the city responsible for most of the pop culture in the 21st century, but I always scoff at the people who decry the kind of art you see on movie or TV screens, the folks who rage against rock music or rap or whatever.

Basically, anyone who believes that modern culture is no match for the classics, well, let's agree to disagree. If Shakespeare was alive today, he'd be writing in Hollywood . . . probably with his own show on HBO. Mozart or Beethoven? Dude, we'd all be crowding into stadiums to see their concert. People would wear T-shirts advertising the tour dates of whatever the 21st century version of the 5th symphony would be.

If you want to ask me about opera . . . well, I have no answer for you. The less time spent thinking about opera, the better.

None of which is to say that I reject the classics, either. There's some good stuff in there. Which is one of the reasons that Our Woman in LA and I ventured out last night to the Hollywood Forever Cemetary to see a production of Hamlet.

(The other reason was that this production featured Eric Hunicutt, the guy who introduced my bride and me, as Gildenstern).

Fun show all around. There's something to be said for a ghost story told in one of the world's best known cemetaries - final resting place of Douglas Fairbanks, Jayne Mansfield, Tyrone Power, virtually all of old Hollywood . . . and, of course, of Joey Ramone.

The locale brought a certain eerie quality to the show. It was cold and damp last night (by cold, of course, I mean the upper 60s). There was an open grave. When Ophelia drowns herself toward the end, the actress actually threw herself into a reflecting pool just 100 yards from the Fairbanks tomb (which served as the tomb of Hamlet's father for the production).

Always fun to go see a friend in a show, but this one made for a particularly good time. I'd been itching to get out to the cemetary (they show movies there in the summer and around Halloween), and this was a great first visit. The wife and I are headed back in a few months when the same group puts up MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.

But seriously, now, in Hamlet, you've got an obsessive young man seeking revenge for his father's death, plus ghosts, sword fights, a couple of femme fatales, and comic relief characters who bite it on the way to England. You're telling me this isn't multiplex material?

Three great stories in one newspaper!

2007-06-21T11:25:00.000-07:00

Took a quick break from my workday schedule to finally pick the LA Times up off my front doorstep today. Expected to see the normal melange of stories about Iraq, the clusterf&*k for the White House in 2008, and the like.

Sure, that's all in there, but looky here! There's some good stuff in this paper today. Take that, Tribune Company! Even your short-sighted dismantling of the most-read paper on the West Coast can't stop the occasional fascinating piece from trickling through the cracks.

First, there's this:

Turns out that one of the University of California campuses not too far from my home (the one in Riverside) has the world's foremost science fiction library, to which I can only say, "Kick Ass!"

I'm not much of a sci fi fan, but as a serious geek-minded guy, this is pretty cool. In fact, I'll go so far as to say that someday, when Our Woman in LA and I have little Wielands, I'm hoping that one will go to UC-Riverside. Not only will it save us some serious money (and it's not like UC schools are any slouch), but also I'll have a better than average excuse for ditching a campus tour to check out this part of the library. I'm just saying.

This, of course, will never work out. The wife and I both attended fairly expensive private universities, so appealing to any future children with the "Save your folks some dough and let Dad go see the sci fi books" strategy . . . well, it's never going to work.

Then there's this:

That's a fantastic photo of poor schlep Sergio Zavala, a traffic scofflaw who got one too many speeding and parking tix. Love it.

Finally there are these stories:

The Times has been covering this the last few weeks. L.A. City Attorney Rocky Delgadillo, it seems, has been doing his best to out-corrupt the folks back in Our Man in LA's former home of Cook County. He's an amateur, sure. Nobody's gotten whacked. There's no reference to the Outfit or "trucking firms from Bridgeport."

Nope. It's about parking and cars and baby-sitting, stuff like that.

First, we learned that Delgadillo's wife used one of the GMC Yukons they reserve for him - just to run some errands. And then she wrecked it. And then it turned out that she didn't have insurance (required by law in California).

Then it turned out that neither of them actually had insurance for a couple of years. Now today, we have reports of Rocky asking his staff to baby sit, to get his dry cleaning, and take his kids on field trips to local museums. LA Times columnist Steve Lopez has offered to be official driver for the Delgadillos (he has insurance), and you should be able to find that invitation pretty easily at latimes.com.

Anyway, it's no Operation Silver Shovel, I'll grant you, but we're new at this big city evil stuff out here. You can read about Rocky and his peccadillos at the link above. Fun stuff.

What was that? Another Spurs championship.

2007-06-15T17:09:00.001-07:00

So here's the question of the day. If the San Antonio Spurs fell on the Cavaliers and won a championship in the woods, but nobody watched, did they make a sound??

Or something like that?

While you weren't watching last night, Tim Duncan led the Spurs to their 4th NBA championship in 9 years, this time over superstar LeBron James and the Cleveland Cavaliers.

And nobody noticed, more or less. Actually, a few people noticed. But like Our Man in LA, they mostly noticed that nobody noticed.

It's actually a pretty incredible feat. The NBA has 30 franchises, and only three of them - the Boston Celtics, Los Angeles Lakers (who have won both in LA and in their former home of Minneapolis), and the Chicago Bulls - have more titles.

Think of that. There are only four teams in the NBA that have four titles or more. I looked it up. There are only nine teams that have more than one. Contrast that with baseball, which is older, sure, but where there are eight or nine teams with 10 or more World Series appearances.

Still, the Spurs are like a revolution. You know, cause they sound like a whisper.

One more crazy stat. Because of last night's win over the Cavs, San Antonio 3-point God Robert Horry now has seven NBA championship rings. Seven! Want to know who has more than seven?

Well, there are about 7 or 8 guys, actually. But they all played on those Celtics teams from the 50s and 60s that won 11 titles.

Know who doesn't have seven? Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Julius Irving, Wilt Chamberlain, Hakeem Olajuwan, Rick Barry, Isaiah Thomas, Dennis Rodman, and all manner of fly basketball players from my youth. Hell, Ewing and Barkley don't have any. Championship-wise, those guys might as well be Craig Ehlo.

So sorry to the Cleveland fans, and hooray for the San Antonio fans. As for the rest of you, you didn't miss a lot.

By the way, when did this blog become the all liberal politics all the time blog? Did anybody notice? I'll get some comics and entertainment in here next week.

Camp, Anyone?

2007-06-14T20:54:00.000-07:00

Guest Blogger here. It's Our Woman in L.A.

Okay, so last night, Our Man in L.A. and I watched JESUS CAMP. Have you seen it? It's a documentary about an Evangelical Christian summer camp for kids. Whoa. I mean, really, whoa. We had to pause the movie a few times because we literally could not believe what we were hearing. A few examples:

"George Bush is Jesus' representative on Earth."

"We don't have to justify the way we feel about gays, the Bible tells us what's right and wrong." (spoken by Mr. Ted Haggerty)

"Global warming is a lie."

"Harry Potter is a warlock, and it doesn't matter that he's a hero because God will strike him down." (This one was my personal favorite.)

Look, I am in no way "anti-religious." You want to believe in something, you go for it. I support your right. But, come on, telling seven-year-olds to take a hammer and smash mugs - mugs that were supposed to represent the evils of the "liberal political system?" To seven-year-olds? At summer camp? At a religious summer camp? Really?

Did anyone see this movie? No doubt, it was awesome. It made me think. I just want to hear what YOU thought of it.

What's next - Flintstone.net?

2007-06-13T14:24:00.000-07:00

By the way, just a post-script here. So I was searching for the picture of the Flintstones that I used on the post below this one. And the one above. Which I think is hi-larious.

Easy, right?

Only I came across a little tidbit of knowledge on my way to the pic.

Did you guys know that there's a Flintstones Christmas Special?

Yeah. I didn't know that. And I found myself saying, "But they're . . . CAVEMEN . . . they didn't have Christmas yet . . . cause it didn't come around till . . . aw, screw it."

I'm over-thinking this, aren't I?

Not a Top Five, not a Bottom One, but Some Much Needed Answers

2007-06-13T14:05:00.000-07:00

If I were any kind of consistent blogger at all (which I'm not), I would have been back yesterday with a typical Tuesday Top Five. I probably could have pulled one off, too, but I just didn't get to it.

No good excuses, no flashy punchlines. It was just a busy day. Sorry. Feel free to contact our complaint department. Seems to me I have their address around here someplace . . .

Anyway, if I'm not going to have the Top Five, I shouldn't have the Bottom One. Because, you see, that would be unbalanced. And while that might work for our friends at Fox News, we Californian types like yoga, wine, nice weather, and balance in the universe.

What I do have is something better! That's right! It's the answers to Our Man in LA's Conservative Call-Out, dispatched earlier this week. We have real answers to my questions from a real conservative! And not just any real conservative, but one who lives in the Bible Belt of the American Southeast!

Beat that!

All right, fine, the answers are from my father-in-law. He's the only conservative who wrote in, which probably means I've disgusted the rest of them.

But in case you were wondering . . . here's them answers!

Yesterday I wrote the following:

I invite anyone - ANYONE - to write in and explain to me how they believe any of the following:

1) That evolution is a myth, or at the very least a theory no less supported than creationism. Anyone who believes the world is 6,000 years old or that man and dinosaurs lived together is invited to explain this to me. Seriously. No joke.

CONSERVATIVE RESPONSE: There is proof. I submit . . . THE FLINTSTONES. How about that, hippie?!

So noted. Professors Hanna and Barberra are among the finest scholars of our time, though I never cared much for Bam Bam. Pebbles was too good for him. I'm just sayin'.

Then I wrote:

2) That we as a country would really be better off with less gun control than what we have now. I read a columnist online who suggested that the Virginia Tech massacre wouldn't have happened if we had fewer gun controls in the US. His reasoning was that if more people were packing heat, that fewer violent criminals would do anything less than law-abiding. Really? Explain this to me. Seriously. No joke.

CONSERVATIVE RESPONSE: BLAZING SADDLES!

That's right! "Dem town peoples sure took care of dem bad guys!"

Uh . . . OK. Bit of a non-sequiter, but no more or less so than a column written by Ted Nugent and carried on CNN.com calling for no gun control at all.

Then I wrote:

3) That global warming is not caused by carbon emissions, and that it's a theory put out there to discredit the oil companies and steal money from big business. Or something. Seriously. No joke. Explain it to me.

CONSERVATIVE RESPONSE: Leave my BBQ alone!

I would, honestly. If you weren't grilling up endangered species . . . I know baby seal tastes like chicken, but so does chicken.

And then:

4) That Iraq is working. Or that Al Qaeda and Saddam were linked at all. Seriously. No joke.

CONSERVATIVE RESPONSE: Where is Iraq?

Heh. Have to say that I sort of expected this one.

And then finally . . .

5) BONUS FOR THE LIBERALS! If you believe, like Charlie Sheen and Rosie O'Donnell, that the Bush administration engineered 9/11, I'd welcome learning more. Seriously. Explain it to me. Probably no jokes.

CONSERVATIVE RESPONSE: You got me on this one.

Yeah, you got me, too. Nice to find something we agree on.

So everyone clear?

A Call Out to the Conservative Types

2007-06-11T15:08:00.000-07:00

All right, guys. Last week, Our Woman in LA and I had an influx of in-laws come out to the Left Coast to see FREEDOM BOUND, the show that she directed for City at Peace - Los Angeles. It was a good time, full of good food, fine wine, and, of course, an opportunity to hear about how liberal I am.

This is nothing new, of course. I'm pretty well aware of how liberal I am. And I know that it can be annoying to check in for another Our Man in LA posting, just to hear me spout off about something political. Shouldn't I be talking about Paris Hilton? What about that last episode of THE SOPRANOS? Didn't it suck?

Not today. Maybe tomorrow. Seriously. Maybe tomorrow.

But today, we're having the first-ever Our Man in LA Conservative Challenge. Here's the sitch --

You might have seen one of those Republican debates a couple of weeks back, where three of the potential candidates for the GOP Presidential nomination volunteered on national TV that they don't believe in evolution. To my sensibilities, that's sort of like being the first grader who admits that he likes to eat paste.

But apparently not.

According to a Gallup Poll released in the last couple of days, Americans don't generally believe in evolution like I thought they did. Check out these numbers:

* Dems — 57% believe in evolution, 40% do not

* Independents — 61% believe in evolution, 37% do not

* Republicans — 30% believe in evolution, 68% do not

And 25 percent say they believe in both evolution and creationism. By which, I hope they mean that they believe in God and evolution, but I really don't know.

This sort of thing makes me crazy, mostly because I feel like I'm at a place in American history where our country is bitterly divided, and it's not possible for one side to understand the other. Which brings me to the nitty gritty of the challenge.

I don't think we can have meaningful conversation about the direction of this country unless we understand each other. And I don't understand the country's arch-conservatives. I invite anyone - ANYONE - to write in and explain to me how they believe any of the following:

1) That evolution is a myth, or at the very least a theory no less supported than creationism. Anyone who believes the world is 6,000 years old or that man and dinosaurs lived together is invited to explain this to me. Seriously. No joke.

2) That we as a country would really be better off with less gun control than what we have now. I read a columnist online who suggested that the Virginia Tech massacre wouldn't have happened if we had fewer gun controls in the US. His reasoning was that if more people were packing heat, that fewer violent criminals would do anything less than law-abiding. Really? Explain this to me. Seriously. No joke.

3) That global warming is not caused by carbon emissions, and that it's a theory put out there to discredit the oil companies and steal money from big business. Or something. Seriously. No joke. Explain it to me.

4) That Iraq is working. Or that Al Qaeda and Saddam were linked at all. Seriously. No joke.

5) BONUS FOR THE LIBERALS! If you believe, like Charlie Sheen and Rosie O'Donnell, that the Bush administration engineered 9/11, I'd welcome learning more. Seriously. Explain it to me. Probably no jokes.

I'm not interested in hearing from people who just happen to be pro-life, or who just think that Democrats raise too many taxes and believe in big government. I understand. We disagree, but I get it. If you think all politicians are liars, I understand that point of view, too.

In exchange, I'm happy to explain any strange liberal opinions I have - about the War, the environment, evolution, and so on. I'll probably do it anyway, but I'm happy to schedule something special.

Just let me know.

Anaheim: Center of the Sports Universe??

2007-06-07T18:42:00.000-07:00

Ahem.

All right, we all know that Our Man in LA likes him some sports, and that he doesn't follow hockey as religiously as he follows some of the others. Maybe it's because it's the only major pro sport that didn't make it to Ohio during my childhood. Maybe it's because the hockey team in Chicago . . . well, suffice it to say that the Wolves minor league hockey franchise regularly outsold the NHL Blackhawks franchise.

And the LA Kings, well . . . do they play anymore?

More to the point, I've never known how to feel about pro hockey in places outside the major Canadian cities and the Northeast and Rustbelt towns of the US. Does Florida or Phoenix hockey really sound right? Discuss amongst yourselves.

But now there's a new Hockey Town in . . . town . . .

Doesn't sound right, either, does it?

Whatever. Here's the deal. Just two days after Our Woman in LA, her family, and I ventured to Anaheim to watch baseball's Angels put a 16-3 beatdown on the Minnesota Twins, the Anaheim Mighty Ducks (see above) won the Stanley Cup, defeating a team from Ottawa, which happens to be the capital of Canada, where hockey is the national pasttime.

Eat that, Mounties!

For the record, the Ducks don't use the above logo anymore. They use one that's about as manly as you can have for a team called the Ducks. They don't use Mighty in their team name anymore, either.

But tonight, hockey fans, as they raise the Stanley Cup and celebrate being the first West Coast team to win the cup since 1925*, they are mighty indeed.

So viva Anaheim, Center of the Sports Universe! No longer do your teams take a backseat to those in LA proper! Your baseball is better, and your hockey. One day, maybe you'll have football and basketball . . . but for now, you're just as good by having nothing at all.

Go Ducks!

* - the last West Coast team to win the cup, FYI, was the Victoria Cougars (logo not available), located in Victoria, British Columbia. It's north and west of Vancouver. That's Vancouver. In British Columbia. In Canada. North of the U.S. That's the United States. Sigh. Stupid education system!

Sixteen runs!

2007-06-07T18:11:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the couple of days off, folks. I've been away from LA (just up the coast in Santa Barbara), celebrating Our Woman in LA's 30th birthday. That's right, everyone! I'm much less of a cradle-robber than I once was. Take that!

Anyway, onto the post o' the day. Our Woman in LA (aka, Birthday Girl) and I took our first trek down to Anaheim to see the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim, Riverside and San Bernardino Counties on Tuesday night. Steph's dad and stepmom were in town, and regular readers will remember that my father-in-law does not recognize the existence of a National League franchise in the Los Angeles area.

"They stole my childhood," he'll tell you.

So a trip to Chavez Ravine was out. On to Anaheim!

Gotta say, I was pretty impressed. Nice stadium, decent turnout of fairly devoted fans, good food options, ample parking, and a perfect night for a game.

And did I mention that the Angels scored 16 runs?

Sixteen! In one game!

I have to admit that I was hoping to see the Rally Monkey (see above), the Angels' mascot and secret weapon, that night. But he was not necessary to put away the Minnesota Twins.

Of course, it was a bit of a disappointment to Our Woman in LA. A birthday without a monkey is not nearly as good as a birthday with one, after all. So we had to make do with presents, a trip to Santa Barbara, and a lot of wine.

Seriously. A lot.

So much wine, in fact, that this morning, we probably could have used our own . . .

Wait for it . . .

Wait . . .

Rally Monkey!

Didn't see that coming, did you? Go Angels.

Three particularly good nights in June

2007-06-04T12:59:00.000-07:00

Not a ton of time today to re-hash, speculate and wax poetic, so I'll get right to it.

FREEDOM BOUND - the City at Peace-L.A. performance directed by none other than Our Woman in LA - had its run this weekend at the Nate Holden Theater. There's not much that I could say to quantify how great the show was. Take 100 Tuesday Top 5's, multiply by 1,000, and you're maybe within spitting distance.

There we were - all of us in the audience - watching 45 teens from all over LA, from really diverse backgrounds racially, culturally, economically. Listening to them tell us about the issues that concern them, the monsters (both real and theoretical) that haunt them. Learning about how a generation of teens - none of whom are old enough to remember the Rodney King riots - are preparing themselves to deal with racism, sexual identity, violence, media saturation, and the repercussions of all manner of abuses.

Heavy stuff, but delivered with charm, energy, and even occasional humor. And great songs.

It hasn't been an easy year for City at Peace - L.A. Right after Our Woman in L.A. was hired as artistic director there, the company considered shutting down for lack of funding. City at Peace backers, including my bride, fought that. They argued that Los Angeles needed City at Peace, that the kids who benefit from it couldn't be left behind.

So the program held on, but Steph would be required to put together their show in six months instead of 10. So what'd she do? First, she did extensive outreach, expanded the cast from 20 to 45. Then she brought on extraordinary support - a music director and choreographer from the Debbie Allen Theater, an assistant director with a bunch of credits to his name.

It wasn't always easy. Try getting 45 adults to do something. Hard, right? OK, now try with kids between the ages of 13 and 19. You know, the ones with the hormones and the righteous anger, but also the belief that maybe - just maybe - they can take control of their own worlds and make a change.

The result? Three great shows, 45 kids learning to work together, and some 800+ audience members getting a sense of what it's like to be a teen today.

I know I've posted this site before, but if you'd like to learn more about City at Peace, or check out stills and whatnot from the show (they should be posted relatively soon), check out their website:

http://cpnational.org/la/index.html

Beyond that, I'll leave you with one last thing. The in-laws are in town, you see, and Our Man in LA's got work to do. There are a million touching things to tell you about the weekend, and a million funny things (including the First Official Our Woman in LA Imitation Contest, but I digress).

The night of the premiere show - Friday - Our Man in LA worked backstage and watched the kids at work. I heard my wife tell them before the curtains opened that she was honored to learn from each and every one of them, and that although this had been the hardest year of her life as a director, it had been worth every moment.

On Sunday, as the show closed and artistic staff were invited onstage with the kids, I heard the teens chanting Our Woman in LA's name. "Steph-a-nie! Steph-a-nie! Steph-a-nie!"

Calling her Our Woman in LA was a bit unwieldy, I guess.

This way seemed better, anyhow.

Later . . .

A Movie You Could Only Love . . . On an Airplane

2007-05-31T14:32:00.000-07:00

What's up, everyone?

These days, Our Man in LA does a lot of traveling for work, and when you go almost anywhere in this great land of ours from the Left Coast, you get an in-flight film. Generally, they're not the kinds of movies that you'd generally shell out 9 or 10 bones for. You know the kind - animated films not by Pixar that take place in a toilet . . . or anything starring Tim Allen.

Or a little art house spectacular that I'm here to discuss.

A little gem called . . . ROCKY BALBOA.

Oh yes. And as someone who has witnessed the trials and travails, the slice of life ethos of Robert "Rocky" Balboa in episodes I, II, III, IV and V: Go for It!, I figured, "Yes! This is going to be craptastic!"

By the way, if the picture in this post were at all legible, you'd see Rocky. And FYI, this line of sarcastic delivery is an homage to FLETCH, which is a callback to yesterday, which is . . .

Aw, never mind.

Anyhoo, here's the thing that about ROCKY BALBOA that got me down. It's nowhere near as ridiculous as I thought it would be. Fact is, that as Rocky movies go, it's probably no more ludicrous than Part IV (the one in Russia with an actor playing Gorbachev). It's a fair bit better than V: Go For It!

I know! Yikes!

I'm not going to spend much time going through the convolutions of the plot. For one, it's out of theaters. For two, I don't believe that any of you could get it at a video store and maintain your dignity. That's why it's an airplane movie, people.

But OK. Just so we're clear on the pros and cons of this little flick, here's Our Man in LA's take:

First of all, this is what I buy from ROCKY BALBOA:

1) That Rocky, now retired, owns an Italian restaurant with a small sports bar area. It's called Adrian's, after his late wife (who died either because of "woman's cancer" or because Talia Shire had too much pride).

2) That Rocky walks around the restaurant most nights, telling stories of his big fights to tourists and guys who pay a little extra for a nice bottle of wine.

3) That Rocky's son - Rocky Jr. - is a huge loser who only maintains employment because his bosses would really like to meet his dad.

4) That Rocky might pine for fighting and think he's got one more good fight in him. I'd even be willing to believe that he might wish he'd thought of the Foreman grill, but not everyone can be soooo innovative.

5) That Paulie, his brother-in-law, is a drunk, moronic loser with barely enough money to cover his bills. You know, in contrast to the drunk, moronic loser who mooched off Rocky in the other movies.

And 6) That boxing's really not all that popular anymore, and boxing promoters are looking for something - anything - to make the sport interesting.

Now here's what I don't buy . . . hope I'm not spoiling anything here.

1) That Rocky, age 60, could go 10 rounds - 10 ROUNDS! - with a 25-year-old heavyweight champ.

Actually, that's about it.

Don't go out and rent it. It's silly, and the clerk at your local Blockbuster will snicker at you every time you come in. And it's not bad enough to have real camp appeal. It'd hardly be worth talking about , but Our Man in LA's gotta blog lest he be called out again.

So Sly Stallone's not all that great anymore. The jokes aren't so good, the fighting's silly, but I did snicker when I heard this dialogue exchange --

Rocky: Yo, it ain't over till it's over.

Heavyweight Champ of the World (the current one): What's that, from the 80s or something.

Rocky: Yo, that's probably from the 70s.

Laughed out loud, I did. Then I quickly looked around to make sure nobody heard me. Didn't matter, of course. Who cares what the guy in 27 C thinks of me? Go back to your soliataire, 27C!

Later . . .

Don't mess with the Fletch, boy, you'll get Our Man in LA

2007-05-30T14:43:00.000-07:00

Howdy, everyone. Just in case you wondered if I could do this two days in a row . . . I can. There. Ha!

So anyway, my pal Doc Noel and I were talking via e-mail today, and he brought to my attention this here link from Slate magazine:

http://www.slate.com/id/2166941/

In it, the writer, whose name I've already forgotten and don't feel like looking up, derides the mid-80s Chevy Chase movie FLETCH as being horrific and awful, a relection of the Reagan era seeping into entertainment.

In the interest of full disclosure, I should admit that I loved FLETCH as a kid, read all of Gregory MacDonald's FLETCH books, and that even now, I could probably quote the whole movie to you . . . close to verbatim. But to be fair to the writer, I'll also admit that there are a number of gags in that movie that fall totally flat now and probably should have then.

That's not my issue. My issue is that I don't think the writer quite understood the movie. He equated it with ANIMAL HOUSE, WEDDING CRASHERS, and a couple of other films in the "Wacky and Wild Comedy" vein, but he missed . . . wait for it . . . wait . . .

The subtlety.

OK, I know that sounds ridiculous. But look, folks. When in film school at the University of Texas (go Longhorns), one of my crowning academic acheivements was my paper NERDS, ANIMALS, AND OUTCASTS, a whopping 42-page genre study of movies like ANIMAL HOUSE, REVENGE OF THE NERDS, and so on. The paper got a lot of praise from the film faculty, who lauded my outright bravery at having the guts to look into the dark heart of this unexamined genre.

To me, the major benefit was getting to watch ANIMAL HOUSE again, not to mention getting to present my paper to peers and faculty. You haven't lived till you've seen hardcore film students react to Gilbert from REVENGE OF THE NERDS say, "Join us, because nobody will ever truly be free until nerd persecution ends."

So anyway, Slate guy missed the point. Here's a contrasting contention about FLETCH's role in the cinema of the 80s, courtesy of Our Man in LA, reprinted with the assumed consent of Doc Noel:

Hadn’t seen this, but I’d have to agree with you – he didn’t get it. On a number of counts, I’d argue. Not the least of which is that I don’t think the movie ever says straight out that Stanwyk is a Mormon. He’s from Utah, yeah (along with Marvin, Velma, and Provo). He’s a bigamist, yeah. But he also makes reference to drinking, which Mormons don’t do. There’s one line – “making him a bigamist, even in Utah” which sort of winks at the Mormon tradition, but again I don’t know if I’d see this as an anti-Mormon text.

I also don’t know if I’d qualify this as a polemic for the Reagan admin, either. I always took it more as a semi-straight adaptation of Gregory MacDonald’s mystery novel with a lot of Chevy Chase-esque sight gags and disguises. Chase had gags like this in a lot of his movies of this period – Spies Like Us, Oh Heavely Dog . . .

Also, I think the writer makes a big mistake equating Fletch with Animal House or Wedding Crashers. And by the way, I don’t think Wedding Crashers is in exactly the same category as Animal House, either. Wedding Crashers is a lot like Stripes, actually. Two wacky guys (who don’t quite fit in to polite society) are placed in an atmosphere where they’re most likely to struggle, and eventually they succeed because they don’t quite fit in. Those two movies are much closer to the screwball comedy model – that’s my opinion, but I’m fairly certain that even 10 years after grad school I could put together a pretty quick and dirty genre study that backs me up.

Animal House is more of a group narrative, and it’s not really about liberalism, either. And while we’re at it, the Omegas don’t exactly qualify as Eastern liberals being cut up by pre-Reaganite Deltas. Neidermeyer’s a fascist. Marmalard’s a future Nixon White House guy. Meanwhile, Flounder will later be a hippie “encounter specialist”, Pinto is the editor of National Lampoon, and the 20 years later mockumentary tells us that Boon’s a doc filmmaker and basically, Bluto is Bill Clinton.

Not to mention the fact that no, the Deltas aren’t fighting for their right to party as much as they’re fighting back against being under the thumb of their oppressors. Paraphrasing my own argument from a million years ago, Animal House (and to a lesser extent, Revenge of the Nerds and dozens of other take-offs) are no less about the rise of the underclass over artistocratic oppressors than, say, something like Animal Farm. In one, it’s pigs and sheep. In another, it’s jocks and Belushi.

But I totally digress.

Anyway, I’d suggest that while some of Fletch’s gags don’t hold up and yes, are fairly lame, the writer’s still mis-classified the movie. Fletch is an action movie with a comedian in the lead. It belongs with Running Scared and Beverly Hills Cop, not Animal House or Revenge of the Nerds. So the agenda’s a lot different. Fletch is telling the story of the knight that slays the dragon, more or less. His dragon is the drug ring of Chief Karlin and Alan Stanwyk. His trapped princess is Mrs. Stanwyk.

Just like Running Scared has two knights who are funny and wise-cracking and who defeat the dragon played by Jimmy Smits and rescue . . . whoever played Billy Crystal’s ex-wife. And so on. They’re straight-up adventure narratives, with a comedian in the lead, and without the pyrotechnics that would later define things like Lethal Weapon.

But Lethal Weapon’s part of the same category, though that might sound crazy. Take away the big explosions and pyrotechnics, but keep around Riggs and Murtaugh, and basically, you’ve got a movie like Fletch or Beverly Hills Cop.

And even though I’ve spent a ridiculously long amount of space on this, why not go a bit further? What do all of those movies (Fletch, Running Scared, Beverly Hills Cop, Lethal Weapon) have in common? A lot. 1) A heroic do-gooder (or two) who fights the good fight in often unorthodox ways; 2) a hero’s boss, who’s itching to take the guy down a notch (Fletch’s editor Frank, the Captain in Running Scared, and so on); 3) A nasty villain who seems to be getting away with his nefarious plan; 4) A certain amount of light detective work to keep the plot spinning; 5) A big fight sequence at the end with some pyrotechnics; and 6) a lady in distress, who needs to be saved by the knight.

Oh yeah, and 7) at the end, no matter how much trouble the hero should be in because of his (or their) wacky yet effective methods, he (or they) receive a total reprieve for everything. Think of Fletch giving his expenses to Frank and going on vacation on Mr. Underhill’s charge card. Or of the Beverly Hills cops letting Axel Foley off the hook. And . . . and . . . and . . .

Yeah, I went to film school.

See you later, true believers.

CW

Karma Credit Bill Comes Due

2007-05-29T11:31:00.000-07:00

Our Man in LA has been away from the blog for a good long while. Sorry to all those folks out there who check in from time to time, only to get nothing more for their troubles than an entry that dates back months (and a pretty political one, at that).

Basically, things have been crazy out here in the City of Angels, and I’ve had barely a moment to update anything. And, the way Our Man in LA figures it, he cannot be forced into a writing a nothing post just to keep the blog updated.

But apparently he can be shamed.

Yeah, it seems that Reggie Newton, official pal of Our Man in LA, called me out last week for being less than an exemplary blogger. That’s right – the same Reggie Newton who had a “Happy Hanukkah” posting up on his blog for 378 straight days.

But he’s right. I’ve been less than faithful. Mostly because after years of collecting the benefits of the move to California, the Karma Credit Bill has come due, and it’s time for me to pay back – by being busier than . . . well, than something that is extremely busy.

So what’s up? In a litany of bullets, my days include:

The premiere of FREEDOM BOUND, the new show from City at Peace – Los Angeles, directed by Our Woman in LA, and featuring the acting, singing and dancing talents of 45 kids from all over the LA area. The show premieres this weekend – running June 1st through 3rd at the Nate Holden Theatre. An online flier is above for those of you who might be out here in the land of sun and fun over the next few days. Our Man in LA is on the board of advisors for City at Peace – Los Angeles (wonder how he got that gig?), so everyone here at Casa Wieland is excited to see the show come to fruition.

Work, work, work. A lot of travel over the past few months – a trip to Washington and Baltimore that ended with an intense stomach flu. A couple of trips to the Windy City. A trip to Portland, home of Doc Noel and likely base of operations for either Kevin Durant or Greg Oden. Not to mention a couple of new responsibilities that have crept out of the woodwork.

A couple of scripts – one for a short film I’ll be directing over the summer, the other for the manager.

In-laws descending on the City of Angels this weekend for the aforementioned showing of FREEDOM BOUND. That’s right. All the in-laws.

And so on.

Look, we all know how these things go. Generally, I take a hiatus from the blog, and then I come back with a head of steam and for a few weeks, I’m blogging like a house afire. And then I burn out again.

So I’m not making any promises here on what’s coming tomorrow. But I will say that in days to come, I’ll bring back my top and bottom lists; I’ll explain why Veronica Mars might even be better than Buffy the Vampire Slayer; I’ll talk about DC Comics’ 52 and Countdown series, not to mention the death of Captain America; I’ll talk about the movies I’ve seen this summer, both on TV and in the theatre . . . and we’ll go from there.

But folks, I understand that a big reason that people tune into Our Man in LA is to get a little bit of insight into those crazy people who dwell on the left coast. To hear about fires and earthquakes and celebrity murder trials.

Now I’ll admit that fires are losing their uniqueness. Georgia’s got them now, too. But we had a bunch up in Griffith Park a few weeks back, and fear of the blaze spreading to Our Man in LA’s Los Feliz neighborhood scared a lot of the rich people who live on the hills out of their palatial mansions.

This little tidbit from the LA Times fire blog spells out everything you need to know about life in SoCal. It is, if you will, and Jon Stewart permitting, our Los Angeles moment of zen:

Returning to a burned landscape
Stephen Halbert swept ash from his brick patio this morning, trying to clear it before his wife returned to the 1926 house on Aberdeen Avenue they have lived in for seven years. Halbert had been standing outside his home at 8 p.m. Tuesday watching the glow of the fire grow closer and redder when neighbor Kirstie Alley drove up and told him to leave. He grabbed his cats and his computer and jumped in his black Prius.
Halbert's wife spent the night with friends in the San Fernando Valley, where she had been rehearsing a play. He spent the night of his 57th birthday in his car at a nearby Albertson's parking lot with a handful of other evacuees. He was too wired to sleep and wanted to stay up to listen to the radio. Besides, he'd left his wallet in his house.
Returning just after 6 a.m. today, Halbert was grateful to the firefighters but saddened at the loss of so much parkland, where he and his wife hike. But the movie sound man found something to be optimistic about. He'd never heard so many birds singing, he said.
-Mary Engel

That’s right. Mansions, Kirstie Alley, fires, laptops, cats, and a Prius. Take that, Karma Credit Bill! Our Man in LA delivers!

Our Stupid Country Monday!

2007-01-29T15:56:00.000-08:00

Hey there, everyone. Hope everyone had a good weekend. Nothing like a little time away to appreciate all the . . . well, all the stupid things going on in our world.

Here's just a sample. It's from the news today, where in Miami, they're planning a party. For the Super Bowl, you ask. Uh, no, not quite.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/16872448/?GT1=8921

That's right. A party for when Castro's dead. Because we're still fighting the Cold War. And we'll show those mean old communists. Honest we will.

Of course, they've been shown already. They gave up corruption and rule by the mafia for lackluster government services and the like. But a whole bunch of old guys in Miami are still steamed! And you never, ever get in the way of an old guy from Miami who's steamed.

Usually you don't have to. Just stay away from the Early Bird Special at Sizzler, and you're 90 percent of the way there.

Then there's this . . .

http://www.washingtontimes.com/national/20070129-120945-1819r.htm

Yeah, see, we should have seen this coming. The radical Christian Right in this country - the very people who brought you Intelligent Design, the "theory" of global warming, Bush in the White House again, not to mention the battle against gay marriage and the battle for prayer in schools - well, they've struck again.

They don't want yoga taught in schools.

It crosses the line, they say. Because yoga's based on ideals set forth in the Hindu religion and because of those roots, it violates the line between church and state.

Never mind that this is the same brain trust who thinks the world is 6,000 years old. Or that yoga that's taught in schools could technically be called "stretching" and they'd never notice. Nope. They did it. Beat us at our own game again. Used our own weapons against us.

So no yoga for kids. In fact, no exercise of any kind - since we've cut physical education programs in this country but continue to spend billions on someone else's Civil War (while mostly ignorning people in Louisiana). But at least our kids won't be godless Hindu types with a lot of flexibility. No sir. What could be more American than a lack of activity and complete short-sightedness?

Beats me. Who's up for a little Castro Death Party?

It's just possible that one Patriot fan went too far . . .

2007-01-26T11:30:00.000-08:00

Heard about this on the radio, and yes, I'm officially disturbed.

Not judging. Just disturbed. However you feel about your football team's QB is your business. I think Carson Palmer's fine. Anyhow, give it a listen:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ufwukWgKfI

It's pretty clear I won't be listening to any Kenny Rogers anytime soon, either.

Make that a THURSDAY BOTTOM ONE

2007-01-25T15:25:00.000-08:00

OK, we'll make this short.

Is it possible that this guy is the most horrible and obnoxious . . . thing that the Bush family has ever unleashed on our fine nation?

That's right, it's Billy Bush, host of TV's YOU'RE THE ONE THAT I WANT, where fools from all over the country compete to be publicly embarrassed as a couple of schlocky producers put together a Broadway re-launch of GREASE.

This guy - a cousin of our president, for God's sake - is the host of this schlock. He is - perish the thought - sort of Seacrest lite, which should be an oxymoron. But, well . . . this is what we're left with.

Now I know a lot of you folks out there expected me to make a political comment by opening with smack talk about those Texans from Kennebunkport. But no. Much as I'd like to take a swing at Dick Cheney or something, Billy Bush is honestly annoying me more this week.

Which is really just to say that Billy's on TV more. And Cheney's either in the woods hunting lawyers or in the secret bunker of the shadow government (which sounds like a great name for a video game).

I'd play it. Could shooting Billy be part of it?

Took me a while, but I came up with a TUESDAY TOP FIVE

2007-01-23T16:43:00.000-08:00

Back in college, I used to read THE DAILY NORTHWESTERN pretty regularly. It passed the time in, say, that geology class I took to fill my science requirement. I even worked there a while, and so I knew a lot of the people.

One thing that used to entertain my pals and me was when a new columnist at the Daily would write his or her weekly post about how hard it was to write a column. Classic prose, usually. And more or less an advertisement for, "I've got no idea what I should be talking about, so I'm going to bitch about having 18 inches devoted to my opinion." Or something like that.

Well, joke's on me. Had trouble coming up with my Top Five today. Had to do actual work at the office until something came to me. Heartbreaking, really.

But I came up with it, and here it is. In the more or less quick-hit version I'm trying to preserve in the blog in 2007.

5) DREAMGIRLS. Usually when Our Woman in LA tells me that it's time to go see a musical in the movie theater, I'm more than a little hesitant. Like a dog feels when it's "vet time." But I liked this. Good performances, good music, and a fun watch. The girl who got buzzed off American Idol can really sing. Eddie Murphy turns in a lot more than just the James Brown imitation I was expecting.

Good enough that I considered getting online and wikipedia'ing the show, Diana Ross, and all the old Motown stars - just to piece together which parts of the movie were true and false. That desire faded before I got home, but still a good movie.

4) Monday Night TV. I've talked about these shows separately, and so it's probably lame for me to even mention. But basically Monday night now offers me both 24 and STUDIO 60 ON THE SUNSET STRIP. Which means that one night a week, my television cup runneth over.

That is, if they get away from all the romance subplots on STUDIO 60 and get back to Matthew Perry and Bradley Whitford kvetching. If I have to see much more of those guys worrying about their love lives and juggling their "will they or won't they" romances, then I'll drop kick that show faster than LOST.

But for now, all good on Monday nights.

3) TALLADEGA NIGHTS. OK, this isn't news. I know it's on DVD now. I know Blockbuster has like a million copies of it. But it's funny - really, really freakin' funny.

Even though Our Woman in LA was reared in North Carolina, neither of us are NASCAR fans. But we are fans of the American id. We watched AMERICAN IDOL last week, after all. We've been to restaurants like Applebees and the Olive Garden. Not lately, but we've been there.

So the movie spoke to us. Or actually, sang to us. Sang to us like a drunken frat boy howling the lyrics of "Chains of Love" by Erasure to the Tri-Delt he's trying to take up . . . well, you get the picture.

Anyway, it's really funny.

2) Clive Owen as Philip Marlowe. Announced this week, VARIETY is reporting that Clive Owen, who turned down the James Bond franchise, is developing an adaptation of one of the novels from the late, extremely great Raymond Chandler and his noir detective Philip Marlowe.

Nobody seems to know which book or which short story. Doesn't really matter. You can count on mean streets, duplicitous dames, and the like. And just when the story runs out of steam, you can count on a guy stomping into the room with his gun drawn.

That's just how they write 'em in Chandler's world.

Yeah, I know Clive's British. I know Marlowe's a Santa Rosa kid walking down the mean streets of Los Angeles like some sort of tarnished angel. But I mean, look at the guy.

You're telling me that guy's never been punched in the face? That he wouldn't take Moose Malloy's money to look for little lost Velda? That he wouldn't play the Sternwood sisters against one another.

Face it, the guy's hard boiled.

1) A little bit of political happiness came my way this week. Which means, I'm about to say something liberal here. You might want to avert your eyes.

Last week, I posted a little ditty about Global Warming, and how maybe we should just get around to accepting that it exists.

Turns out, some scientists agree with me:

http://www.cnn.com/2007/TECH/science/01/23/climate.report.ap/index.html

Oh yeah, and some CEOs - guys who probably sometimes make a buck from fossil fuels:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/16708004/

Now, normally at this point, I'd make a joke about the Glen Becks and others out there who think that Global Warming's caused by fall foliage or whatever. Who think evolution is a theory, gay marriage is an abomination, and that we really have to keep those Harry Potter books away from our kids.

But I'll save that. Who knows when I'll next have trouble posting a top five?

News, notes, celebrations and the like . . .

2007-01-22T14:02:00.000-08:00

Howdy, folks. Our Man in LA here with a few items that struck my fancy over the weekend (and one thing worth celebrating).

First, the news.

* You might have heard that the NFL playoffs were going this weekend, and in fact, that the teams who won on Sunday would be playing each other in a little thing called the Super Bowl in just two short weeks. If you're wondering how you missed this little tidbit, well, uh . . . the answer is "I don't know."

Anyway, on the NFC side of the ball, the New Orleans Saints faced off at Soldier Field against the Chicago Bears, a team from our former hometown. The Bears, much to my surprise, won.

Now again, you might not have heard this (though I'm not sure why), but Chicago sports fans don't hold all their local teams in equal regard. And popularity is not commensurate with winning. The White Sox might have won the World Series a couple years back, but the Cubs are now and always will be a gazillion times more popular. Wrigley Field is sold out in September even if the team was mathematically eliminated in May. Comiskey (aka US Cellular Field) has ample parking, day or night, and good seats still available exactly . . . always.

Likewise, the Chicago Bulls won six championships in the 90s, but the die-hard Chicago fan would still rather talk about the '85 Bears, the last Chicago football team to win a Super Bowl. Also the first Chicago football team to win a Super Bowl. If you ever meet one of these 85 Bears fans, do yourself a favor. Forget that you like football. If possible, effect a foreign accent and grin like you don't understand when they use the following words: "Ditka"; "McMahon"; "Super Bowl Shuffle"; or "Monsters of the Midway."

It's this kind of rabid fandom that makes this story, ahem, not surprising at all:

http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2007/football/nfl/specials/playoffs/2006/01/21/bc.fbn.bears.earlydeliv.ap/index.html

Please note in the story the dateline. That's right - Palos Heights, Illinois. Setting of my film THE REST OF YOUR LIFE, and honestly, about as Suburban Chicago as any one place can get.

* While we're on the subject of football, congrats to the Indianapolis Colts. Glad they won. First, it saves us all from having to read even one more column about Peyton Manning not being able to win the big game. Second, it means that there will be some offense in the Super Bowl.

Third, it really must tick off those Baltimore Raven fans.

Heh, thanks, Peyton. This is the gift that keeps on giving.

* The Razzies - the Oscars of bad movies - were released today.

You can read about them here:

http://www.tvgasm.com/newsgasm/news/moviegasm/2006-razzie-awards-announced.php

I'm happy to say that I missed out on just about everything nominated this year (though I did see Kate Bosworth as Lois Lane in SUPERMAN RETURNS). But as always, there are a few awards that make me snicker:

Worst Excuse for Family Entertainment (New Category!):
Deck the Halls
Garfield 2: A Tail of Two Kitties
RV
The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause
The Shaggy Dog

And this one . . .

Worst Screen Couple:
Tim Allen & Martin Short, The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause
Nicolas Cage & His Bear Suit, Wicker Man
Hilary & Haylie Duff, Material Girls
Sharon Stone's Lopsided Breasts, Basic Instinct 2
Shawn Wayans and either Kerry Washington or Marlon Wayans, Little Man

Yikes.

LAST ITEM OF THE DAY!!!!!

It feels more than a little strange to have this following the Razzie Post, but it bears mentioning here. It's a personal note, so avert the eyes if you get weepy.

Today - January 22, 2007 - is the 7th anniversary of my first date with Our Woman in LA, my lovely bride Stephanie. A scant week after first meeting at The Last Act, a long-gone bar that used to be across from Second City, we went out for dinner (at LaDonna on the corner of Clark and Foster) and for drinks (Hop Leaf, same corner), and started something great.

I didn't know that my life was going to change after that first date, but it did. When you consider the fact that when I returned home that night, I found a comatose Rob Schumann passed out on the sofa after a particularly hearty Wrigleyville Pub Crawl, perhaps I should have been pining for my life to change.

At any rate, these have been without question, the best 7 years of my life, and they're just the beginning.

Happy anniversary, Steph.

What's a geek to do?

2007-01-19T15:02:00.000-08:00

As a long-time, hard core comics guy, I've been pretty excited the last few years, as some of the best heroes, villains, and assorted sidekicks from the Marvel and DC Universes have made their way to the big screen and plasma screen alike. Super-heroes have been big business out here in LA, so much so that you can actually read comics and graphic novels in public without having to worry about someone seeing you do it.

On the contrary, out here they want to make sure you're not developing a super-hero that they haven't heard of yet

Mostly, the comics movies of the late 90s and early 00s have been decent. I liked the Spider-man films a lot; Batman Begins was amazing; and the X-Men films and Superman Returns were OK. It's a long, long way from the kind of dreck that we used to see.

Anyone remember SUPERMAN IV: QUEST FOR PEACE? Or the TV show NIGHT MAN?

But now Marvel Comics' armored hero IRON MAN is set to make it to the big screen, and I'm in a quandry. It's not out till 2008, but I don't know, folks. Should I bother?

Here's what has me all bothered:

* The film stars Robert Downey Jr. as corporate CEO/alcoholic turned super-hero Tony Stark/Iron Man. While Downey's without question a good actor, I previously took an ethical stand to not support him or the movies he's in. I usually try to be true to these ethical stands. As it is, I'm still not seeing movies with most of the cast of THE FAMILY STONE. Not to mention John Leguizamo.

I mean, seriously, does he look like Damon Bradley from ONLY YOU?

Never mind. I guess he does, a little.

Why the hate with Downey? Mostly because the guy got furloughs from prison when he was doing time for drug and gun charges. It's not that I don't think he's a good actor, it's that he got special treatment from the so-called system because he's a celebrity. If he had been getting out of jail to do PSAs for kids and malcontents.

But no. He was doing episodes of Ally McBeal. Not quite the same thing, is it?

And again, I wouldn't have hated the system for doing that - if they were willing to extend the same courtesy to a guy (or lady) who works the pickup window at Wendy's but who finds himself or herself in jail for the same drug and gun charges. If Dave Thomas (or his heirs) were calling, and the court would let someone out to give you a large Frosty, then Downey's forgiven.

Wait, what? They're not doing that for the Frosty guy? They're not? Really?

Well, then, the ethical stand is still there.

* Compounding matters is that the female lead in this thing has just been cast. It's Gwyneth Paltrow. I don't have an ethical stand when it comes to Gwyneth, but I do view her inclusion as a strike against a film.

But how can you say that, Wieland?

Easy. I saw BOUNCE and RUNNING WITH SCISSORS. In the theater. And while I liked Paltrow in SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE, SE7EN, and a few other flicks, I just have some trepidation.

* And yet here's the other side of the argument. Big fan of co-star Terrence Howard, who's playing Iron Man's buddy Jim Rhodes. Those comic fans out there will remember Rhodes even became Iron Man for a while in the books while Stark (the character played by Downey) was on a bender. Howard's great, so that probably undoes my lingering Paltrow worries.

I'm also a really big fan of director Jon Favreau. I've liked all his work so far as both an actor and director, and it's no stretch to say he was the best part of his previous Marvel Comics film. Yeah, that was DAREDEVIL. Notice how I didn't mention DAREDEVIL in the good comics movies above?

* Final complication. I just don't know if I think Iron Man will make a good movie. A drunk rich guy without the intensity of Bruce Wayne, who flies around in an expensive piece of military armor and fights a stereotypical Asian villain called The Mandarin.

That's right. The Mandarin.

So I'm stumped. Anyway, here's some information about the movie:

http://www.comicbookmovie.com/news/articles/3277.asp

Why can't it just be an easy decision, like whether I'll go see Nic Cage in GHOST RIDER.

Wow, that does not look good.

Feel my head. Am I globally warm?

2007-01-18T12:17:00.000-08:00

In case you guys have missed out on the news over the last few weeks (or been marveling at the amazing talents of AMERICAN IDOL contestants in Seattle and Minneapolis), there have been a few interesting developments. Namely:

* It snowed in Malibu.

* It snowed so bad in Texas that they shut down Interstate 10 south of San Antonio.

* It's not snowing in Switzerland, where people generally go to ski.

* The American Northeast and Midwest had their warmest winters in recent history.

* Polar ice caps and Greenland: Still melting.

So OK, can we finally admit that something strange is going on, weather-wise? Is it possible that global warming and the horrifying effects of pollution on our environment aren't just crazy "theories" (you know, like evolution)? Isn't it maybe time that we just accepted it?

I know, I know. I'm a crazy liberal. I live in California. My wife and I like the arts, Mac computers, hybrid cars, and liberal causes. Yes, we acknowledge that Al Gore was a terrible candidate for President, probably didn't invent the Internet, and probably wasn't the inspiration for Erich Segal's LOVE STORY (and honestly, would you want to be? Have you seen or read LOVE STORY?).

But that doesn't mean he's always wrong! No, Glenn Beck, Global Warming's not a "natural process." Come on.

Tell you what. If we can just agree on this and start working on our environment, I'll keep all my snotty comments about the LEFT BEHIND series to myself. Deal? I won't even challenge anyone on Intelligent Design, or scoff at the people who waste their time protesting gay marriage.

I will include a link to this cartoon in my blog. But I'm not made of stone . . .

http://www.doonesbury.com/strip/dailydose/index.html?uc_full_date=20070114

Enjoy!

The Wednesday Bottom One . . . And Man, is it low

2007-01-17T15:29:00.000-08:00

The picture really says it all, doesn't it?

Last night, Our Woman in LA and I watched the season premiere of AMERICAN IDOL, a show we both don't much like but can't turn away from. Like a 16-car pile-up on the Interstate.

And there's no question, it had to be my Wednesday Bottom One.

I don't know what it is that I found most troubling about last night. Was it:

* Simon's creepy catchphrase "You're through, kid!" to prospective female idols, said with a tone that can only be described as the way pornographers sound when they lead teenage runaways to the casting couch?

* Randy's incessant use of the word "dog" as a term of endearment?

* Paula's haze from one too many appletinis the night before?

* The sad state of America when our citizens will drop everything resembling any kind of dignity just for the slim chance of getting on national television? That they'll face the kind of humiliation that usually passes for torture in other countries so that they can be derided at work or at school the next day?

* The kid in this picture, who's a singer, dancer and juggler?

* That poor, sad girl who imitates the Lion from Wizard of Oz? I mean, reallly, dude.

* Or is it master of schlocky ceremonies Ryan Seacrest, who tries to pretend that he's sensitive to the plight of pimply 16-year-olds who just had their egos demolished by the three judges, and who are crying on national TV, making it almost a lock that they will be beaten and swirlied at the high school on Monday? And meanwhile, Seacrest can barely keep from laughing?

It's a hard thing to pick. I'm going with Seacrest for now.

So . . . who's watching tonight?

Back from the weekend, and back to the regular TUESDAY TOP FIVE!

2007-01-16T13:33:00.000-08:00

Howdy, folks. Our Man in LA here, back with our normal Tuesday feature, a little thing that we like to call the Tuesday Top Five. I think you know the drill. And if you don’t, I’m pretty sure you can catch on.

Pursuant to a New Year’s Resolution to make this year’s blog entries shorter and more plentiful, we’re going to see if we can’t kick this Top Five out quickly and with only a smattering of words. Let’s be honest, some of my posts are long enough to qualify as chapters in epic Russian novels – albeit without names that you can’t pronounce.

So away we go!

5) THE THIEF OF TIME by Tony Hillerman. If you haven’t heard yet (or read the blog recently), the wife and I spent some vacation time this year in Sedona and northern Arizona. We even spent part of a day on the mammoth Navajo reservation that spills out from Arizona and into Utah, Colorado, and New Mexico. Seeing it for real got me interested in checking out Tony Hillerman’s mystery/thriller novels set against the very same reservation, and starring his detective protagonists Joe Leaphorn and Jim Chee.

This is the one I got to first. It’s fantastic. Moves really fast and incorporates an interesting blend of Navajo tradition, modern police work, and even archaeology and myth. I’m on to a second one now. Check it out.

4) Café Los Feliz on Hillhurst just north of Avocado. Another swell place for a meal, just stumbling distance from Casa del Wieland. Steph and I came across this place the week before Christmas, and we’ve been back a couple of times since. It’s a small storefront with some outdoor seating (although with the cold snap out here, nobody’s outside). Good food, family owned, and a fun atmosphere.

I could go on and on about the things I’ve had there. A really good hummus with homemade pita. Excellent soups. But best of all, probably the best homemade French roll I’ve ever tasted. Amazing.

3) SHOWCASE PRESENTS: SHAZAM! By DC Comics.

Everyone knows that I’m a comics guy, and that among my all-time favorites is the original Captain Marvel. You know the story. By day, he’s a little kid named Billy Batson. But when he says the magic word SHAZAM, he’s transformed into the world’s mightiest mortal – a hero with the wisdom of Solomon, strength of Hercules, stamina of Atlas, power of Zeus, courage of Achilles, and speed of Mercury.

Don’t know why I love this guy as much as I do. Maybe it’s the fact that I was him for Halloween when I was five. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s sort of a comic book Harry Potter. Either way, I do love him. And so do a lot of fans – fact is, in the 40s, he was even more popular than Superman before Big Blue’s lawyers came along and claimed that Cap was too similar to the Kryptonian Kid.

After DC Comics shut Cap down, though, they bought him. And in the 70s, they brought him back to newsstands with a fun (if a bit silly) comic called SHAZAM! This volume – just $17 – collects the first 33 issues, and it’s totally worth it.

2) The Baltimore Ravens lost. That’s right, lost. And I’m just cackling with glee over it. And if there’s justice, they’ll just keep losing next year, too.

You see, if you were reading the sports pages last week, you heard how the terrifying and mighty Ravens were going to grind the bones of the lowly Indianapolis Colts for their bread. They would have their way with them, get medieval on them, and all of that.

And it would have worked, too, if not for Peyton Manning playing the part of Scooby Doo and the Indy defense playing those meddling kids!

Why the hate between Baltimore and Indy? Well, because in the 1980s, the Colts franchise moved in the middle of the night to Indianapolis, breaking the hearts of the fans there.

And then – because all those Baltimore fans are really so stout of heart, so forthright, so true, and so deserving – they turned around and stole the Browns franchise from the folks in Cleveland. Cleveland fans, of course, were just as loyal if not more so. They were just as heartbroken.

But man, those folks in Baltimore really wanted a team that bad. So it didn’t matter how they got it. No matter what they’d been through.

Here’s the thing. I’m not really a Browns fan. I’m from Ohio, but much closer to Cincinnati. So I’m a Bengals fan. This isn’t about that. It’s about how much I detest people and organizations who can’t self-examine. So Baltimore’s going to beat up on Indy because Indy stole their team? And the Baltimore team itself was stolen from Cleveland?

Hmmm. Sticky.

I know that we live in an era where mid-sized cities think that they need to have a pro team to prove that they’re a major part of the American fabric. I know the people of Baltimore really wanted some sort of compensation.

I also know that at Wrigley Field in Chicago, when an opposing team hits a home run, the Cub fans in the bleachers throw the ball back onto the field. Usually catching a ball like that is great, a keepsake, something to show the friends. But if you’re a Cub fan, you don’t want someone else’s ball. You send it back.

Which is exactly what the people of Baltimore should have done when Art Modell offered up the Cleveland Browns. Thrown it back.

And since they didn’t, I sure hope they keep losing next year and for years to come.

1) 24. Jack Bauer is back, and as a result, Our Woman in LA and I are hooked on the television heroin that is 24. Sure it strains credibility. Sure, in just four hours (following a period of two years of brutal torture by the Chinese government), Jack has gotten off a plane from China, cleaned himself up, been tortured, escaped, killed a couple of terrorists, outmaneuvered an air strike to save a key ally, led a gun battle against another terrorist, and basically kept himself two steps ahead of the U.S. Government.

Silly? Maybe. But he’s Jack. And he DOESN’T HAVE TIME to argue about how realistic it is!

I mean, the guy hasn’t even had a glass of water yet.

Who am I to argue, though. Birds got fly, Jack’s got to save the world.

Later.

One final lesson, and it's tasty . . .

2007-01-13T13:40:00.000-08:00

It's not very often that Our Man in LA does a Saturday post for the old blog, but then again 1) it's not very often that he gets a three-day weekend; and 2) it's not very often that he returns from a good, long vacation to impart the lessons learned from time spent all over this great land of ours.

Which brings me to something very, very important. And it's this:

LESSON #1: YOU CAN EAT CACTUS. AND IT'S NOT HALF BAD.

That's right. Cactus. In case you wondered how cowpokes and Native Americans fed themselves in the old west, there you have it.

It's not bad, either. Kind of like asparagus with a slightly sour aftertaste. Certainly not anything to be afraid of, or to get squinty about - like the Man with No Name.

I mean, seriously, that guy could use some cactus.

Our first night in Sedona, Steph and I headed out to the Cowboy Club, one of the restaurants on the tourist-friendly strip. Pretty good bar and grille food, all things considered, and a decent selection of Arizona microbrews.

Now, at the Cowboy Club, they have the usual pub grub, but also a decent selection of local fare. Namely, buffalo steaks and burgers, some items derived from ostrich, a plate of snake skewers (rattlesnake and the like), and, of course, cactus.

I got the cactus mostly because Our Woman in LA did not like the idea of something that slithers being on our table. Even if it is dead and deep-fried. Ahh, something for the next visit.

Do I wish the cactus hadn't been deep-fried? Sure, then I could have gotten a better sense of the taste without removing battery layer upon battery layer. On the other hand, I'm no chef. Perhaps grilled cactus doesn't taste right. And perhaps a sauteed cactus has to be prepared with a certain kind of red sand.

Doesn't matter, really. I liked it. I'd do it again. But I have to save room. For the rattler.

Have a great weekend, everyone.

Shhhhh! Healing's in process . . . and that's the lesson

2007-01-12T15:06:00.000-08:00

Our Man in LA's Lesson #2 also comes from the magical land of his recent vacation - beautiful Sedona, Arizona.

And basically, it's this:

LESSON #2: THERE REALLY ARE THESE HEALING VORTEXES! NO JOKE!

So one of the things that I'd heard about Sedona was that if you'd hike amongst the red rocks, you'd come to these areas - these vortexes - and you'd feel a certain kind of energy. Nobody could really describe it.

Maybe your hands would tingle, they'd say.

Maybe you'd just start tearing up, crying unexpectedly.

Could be almost anything, they'd say. And most importantly, there was the disclaimer: "You're only really going to feel the power of the healing vortexes if you're particularly sensitive to psychic phenomena and things outside the five major senses."

So I figured, really, no chance that I'm going to feel anything different. After all, I don't see dead people. I don't think I believe in reincarnation except in comic books. I thought CHARIOT OF THE GODS was a fun read, but . . .

But whatever. I still had to take a look.

So while we're climbing up Cathedral Rock, we're seeing signs that look like this one:

And I'm thinking, "OK, cute. It's a nice touch. But I'm not feeling anything."

Our Woman in LA, on the other hand, felt tingling sensations, found her breath being taken away. Most of those feelings came when we passed little man-made piles of rocks like this one:

Turns out, there's a reason for that. Hikers over the years have piled those rocks to mark the vortexes where they've felt the most extra-sensory energy. So if you see something like that, you know you're in the presense of somebody's mojo juju.

On Cathedral Rock, I found myself inspired and occasionally out of breath - but only from the climb and the rocks. On our second hike - around Bell Rock and Courthouse Rock, I reacted differently.

Between the two, I passed one of those rock piles. I was looking up at Courthouse Rock, just having come up from a dried river bed. I felt . . . something. The hands tingled a little bit, but no shortness of breath. Mostly I just got lost for a second (or maybe longer) in the giant rock itself and the desert around it. I just stood and stared into the space around me. Pretty zen, actually. Like being awed by the size of the world and of existence.

And then the moment passed, but I hesitated a little before leaving the spot.

So I guess that means I have a little sensitivity outside those big, old-fashioned five senses. Does it mean that I'm ready to leave LA and go to work in one the Metaphysical Mall in Sedona (a real place, don't laugh)?

Well, probably not.

Does it mean that I'm psychically in tune with the rest of the universe and that the FBI will soon be hiring me to find kidnapped children?

We'll see. That does sound pretty cool, though. Till then, we'll always have the vortexes.

Our Man in LA spies some entertainment

2007-01-11T15:03:00.000-08:00

So here we are again, back for lesson 3 of Our Man in LA's long vacation from blogging. Like yesterday, this is kind of a fun one.

Let me set the stage. I'm back in Chicago for work in December, grabbing sushi with the Newton-Finches and the Rolnicks in Andersonville. As we always do, we start talking movies. Reggie and Sarah have seen CASINO ROYALE. They loved it.

"It's not heresy to talk about it in the same breath as GOLDFINGER," Reggie says. And I scoff. Which brings me to the entertainment section of these here lessons, and a big, fun LESSON #3.

Mainly this: It might be Jack Bauer's world, but James Bond is still pretty freakin' cool.

Or maybe that's cool again. See, I've been a big Bond fan since way back. Read all the Ian Fleming and John Gardner novels in junior high. Suffered through the dregs of the Roger Moore and Tim Dalton eras. Pondered questions like, "Seriously, which was more lame - A VIEW TO A KILL, MOONRAKER, or LICENSE TO KILL?"

Not an easy question to answer. MOONRAKER'S easy to diss, with the space travel and all, but the other two are currently playing at a Multiplex in the Third Circle of Hell.

I mean, did you guys see this one? Yeah, that's Grace Jones.

Even bringing Pierce Brosnan to the series wasn't enough. I started to wonder if James was past his prime. Do we really believe in British Secret Agents anymore? You know, if you're not searching for Weapons of Mass Destruction in Iraq, that is?

But worse for Her Majesty's Favorite Secret Service Agent, in the new century, I've been getting my spy thrills from the super-cool CTU on TV's 24.

And no matter how hard Brosnan worked in movies like THE WORLD IS NOT ENOUGH and GOLDENEYE, the plots there seemed lamer, less real, less intense and fun to watch. Sure, 24 might strain credibility sometimes, but didn't one of the recent Bond movies feature Denise Richards as a rocket scientist?

Plus, Jack Bauer and Tony Almeda on 24 might not be able to save the world by themselves . . . but I'm pretty sure that they could shake and stir James Bond and Felix Lieter from Monte Carlo to Montenegro.

Jack Bauer. Maybe he could kick Bond's ass, but he DOESN'T HAVE TIME! HE'S GOT TO SAVE AUDREY! AND HIS DAUGHTER! CHLOE, ARE YOU ON THE LINE!

Or so I thought. Then I saw CASINO ROYALE.

And here's the thing. Reggie was right. It is super cool. The best Bond movie in decades. Great set pieces, great plotting, hot Bond girls, and real acting by the lead. Acting! In a Bond movie!

Not just that. Daniel Craig actually plays 007 as tough enough to live in Jack Bauer's world. Who'd have thunk it? This isn't just some lapdog from Tony Blair's England, no sire. The new Bond is tough, cool, and a man on a mission.

Just the way he ought to be.

So if you haven't seen CASINO ROYALE, do. I know it's been out since Thanksgiving, so it might not even still be playing in your town. Get the DVD. It's that cool.

How cool? Cool enough that I'm not embarrassed to know trivia about Agent 007. Stuff from the books like:

* That Bond's not really British. Nope. His dad was Scottish, his Mom Swiss. He was orphaned as a pre-teen, flunked out of the prep schools in England, and ended up in the military.

* His birthdate. According to the books (mostly written in the 50s and 60s), November 20, 1920 or 1924.

* That he's got a kid. His baby mama is Kissy Suzuki, the main Bond girl from YOU ONLY LIVE TWICE.

Stuff like that. Usually I keep my perfect trivia recall under wraps. But now that Bond is cool again, what the hey?

Another day, another lesson . . . with interesting results

2007-01-10T14:42:00.000-08:00

For those of you who thought I couldn't blog two days in a row, who figured that I wouldn't have five full lessons as promised, well, I have this to say:

Ha!

That's right. It's lesson #4! The joke's on you, baby! Our Man in LA is ready to share his learned wisdom again!

All right, I'll get on with it.

4. SOMETIMES IT PAYS TO TAKE THE HARDER PATH. This is a much more fun lesson.

As many of you know, Our Woman in LA and I took a much-needed vacation over the holidays to Arizona, where we saw the Grand Canyon and the Red Rocks of Sedona, stayed in a spa, visited the Navajo reservation, and generally just got away from it all.

Christmas Day in Arizona, most everything was closed. So we figured it to be as good a time as any to hike around the gorgeous rock formations and canyons that surround Sedona. But we're city folk, my lady and me, and so we wanted to make sure that we did something well within our ability. We bought a book about the various hiking trails, and selected the two easiest ones. We conferred with the Concierge (whose name was Lars) at the spa to see if they really were the easiest. They were.

So we headed to the first hike, called Cathedral Rock. It looks like this:

Beautiful, right? So Our Woman in LA and I were psyched. A great Christmas day hike around one of Arizona's most beautiful red rock formations. Healing vortexes, for God's sake!

So we got there. A few people milled about, starting out on the Cathedral Rock Trail. Being city folk, Steph and I felt that we were new to this hiking biz. So we followed them. What harm could there be, right?

In fact, here's a pic of us right at the base of the rock, getting started.

This'll be great, we figured. A nice, easy hike. And it was. For about 10 minutes.

Then it started to get steep.

And then steeper.

And then it pretty much required you to scale a freakin', frackin' rock wall.

At this point, being the City Slickers that we are, the wife and I considered turning back. "I don't see how this can be the easiest trail," Steph said.

"I could really use a latte," I agreed.

So we were going to turn around. And that's when the old guy came along.

Picture this. An old man. Wearing an Arizona Diamondbacks cap and a tattered khaki trench coat. Grizzly Adams beard. Grande cup of coffee in one hand. Traveling with his dog.

Then picture him walking right by us, with the dog, and climbing the sheer rock wall.

"Well, now I've got to do it," Our Woman in LA said. "But let's watch how the dog does it." And so we did.

Here are a couple of pics. When you get to the top of Cathedral Rock, the view is incredible. And it really is sort of like being inside a church. Quiet and serene.

Now, it bears mentioning that once we came down the rock and got back in our car, we took a look at the guidebook. After all, we were heading to Bell Rock afterwards, and we needed to get the dirt on that hike. And that's when we learned that we hadn't done the "easy" hike at Cathedral Rock.

Nope. That's just a stroll around the base of the rock, with a view of a cute little stream.

Climbing Cathedral Rock's not even in the "Red Rocks for Dummies" book that we'd been looking at. We'd actually bitten off way, way more than we should have been able to chew.

But therein lies lesson #4. If we hadn't taken the difficult trail, we wouldn't have climbed to the top. We wouldn't have been humiliated by the old guy and his dog, but we also wouldn't have seen the views and been able to tell everyone that we climbed the damn thing.

"Pretty cool, isn't it, baby?" I asked Steph after we were done. "We're like real hikers now. We climbed a rock. We're not such city slickers after all."

Alas, wrong again. You can take the girl out of the city, but . . .

"How's my hair look?" Steph said. "You know, after the climb?"

Back for another year, with lessons to learn . . .

2007-01-09T15:19:00.000-08:00

Greetings and salutations, everyone. After a long vacation from my bloggy home, Our Man in LA finds himself back home in the electronic ether, ready for another go-around.

I realize it's been a while, and I know it's Tuesday - which would normally mean an old-fashioned TOP FIVE coming right at you. But, to be honest, I'm not feeling a top five of anything right now. Bad football mojo last night and extended hangover from the holidays has left me bereft of the usual bon mots. So I'm going to do the next best thing to one of those long-awaited TOP FIVEs.

It's . . . The Annual Top Five Things I've Learned over the last month or so. Lame title, I grant you. We're working on it. Send in your recommendations.

I should also mention that I'm going to do a lesson a day here, just to get things started. I've been away awhile, I need to ease back in. Plus, I'm thinking of you, the reader. Do you really want a stupid long post on the first day? No, sir.

Also, it's worth noting that while a normal Top Five only references things that are good, A LEARNING TOP FIVE can reflect all manner of lessons - good, painful, annoying, interesting, the list just goes on.

To wit, Lesson #5:

THE BIG TEN SUCKS AT FOOTBALL.

See what I mean? A good example of a not-so-fun lesson, learned totally the hard way over the last week or so. As an Ohio kid and a Northwestern grad, I've always been a Big Ten guy. I root for my teams (Buckeyes and Wildcats) through the season, and then usually, for the entire conference come bowl season.

OK, I don't always root for the whole conference. I wasn't about to cheer Iowa over Texas this year, but certainly you folks can understand that. I'm a Texas grad. I have a diploma from there and everything. And a shirt. And a cap. And last year's Rose Bowl taking up space on the TIVO. You get the picture.

But look, when I moved out west, I scoffed at these Big 12 fans and Pac 10 boosters. Certainly their conferences were soft. Certainly they had no conception of real football. Fools, they were. Bureaucratic fools.

And SEC fans were worse. I'd tell them that, but then there'd be this whole incident with a gun rack and everything.

Or so I thought. Yeah. Not so much.

Just ask this guy.

As you might have heard, during bowl season, the Big Ten got more or less destroyed. Florida completely embarrassed Ohio State in the national championship game last night. USC did the same to Michigan in the Rose Bowl. Sure, Wisconsin won, but Purdue and Iowa were sent packing. Minnesota lost so bad that they fired their coach. And Notre Dame, which most of the country thinks is part of the Big Ten, got shelled worse than . . . I can't really think of an apt war metaphor, so you get the picture.

OK, Penn State and Wisconsin won. But Penn State shouldn't even be in the conference.

Anyhow, you get the point. Disaster. Big Ten football is a suckfest. One more blow to feelings of Midwestern superiority. Well, wait until . . . no, we're going to lose in basketball season, too.

Sneak Preview from Our Woman in L.A........

2007-01-03T19:02:00.000-08:00

Here's the "trailer" to the much anticipated return of Our Man in L.A.'s blog writing.

What has kept him from his writing? Where in the world is Our Man in L.A.? The answer:

He's been to Sedona and the Red Rocks, the Grand Canyon, the Navajo Reservation; driven through the desert; eaten fried cactus; hiked up a huge rocks; visited metaphysical stores; and seen healing vortexes.

Most recently he was seen in Dayton, Ohio.

You don't believe me? Okay, here are a few pictures to prove it.........

Our Woman in L.A. does The Wheel

2006-11-15T19:33:00.000-08:00

The power of thought is truly amazing to me. When I started running for the first time, I became very aware of this. Running, as I was told by others, and then soon realized for myself, is mostly about mental focus. If you can run for a few minutes, you can run a few miles, and, as I learned, finally a half marathon. It is all about believing that you can.

Since the half marathon, I have been laying off the running and focusing on yoga. There’s a very cool yoga studio about a block from our apartment, and I find myself going at least 4 days a week.

I have this very spiritual yoga teacher who is always reminding the class to stay in the moment, be true to our abilities, and to rest when we need to. She reminds us to connect our breath and movements, and to focus our thoughts. She reminds us to not judge our thoughts, but rather just be aware of them.

Today, I had a little yoga breakthrough. There’s a pose called “wheel”, which is basically a backbend (see below photo). I was always a little scared to try it, thinking I did not have the upper arm strength to pull it off. Today, I finally tried it, and I did it.

I have been thinking a lot about that today. Trying things on. Not being afraid to fail, and to fail BIG.

So, in the spirit of allowing myself room to grow, I went and bought some flowers and rosemary and planted them on the back patio.

I got my hands dirty with potting soil. I made a mess. It was great. So, I guess the plants are a reminder for me. They are kind of my everyday metaphor to keep it up. Keep allowing myself room to grow.

Plus, I’ve killed about two sets of patio plants since we moved into this apartment. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that round three stays around till the spring.

Our Woman in LA is Home Alone!

2006-11-13T19:13:00.000-08:00

BLOGGER'S NOTE: Our Man in LA is far from LA this week, traveling for work to Chicago and the East Coast. In his stead, Our Woman in LA is back as the guest blogger:

Like Macaulay Culkin, I am now home alone. Our Man in L.A. is traveling far and wide for his employer. Before he left, he asked that I keep his blog going while he was gone. Intimidated as I was, I still said yes.

So, last night was my first night alone. It sucked. Don’t get me wrong- I do love alone time. I lived alone in a studio apartment before I moved in with Chris. The studio was super cute, even though Our Man in L.A. would say it was a bit of a slum. I loved it. The broken elevator, the weird smell of cat urine in the stairwell, the black and white checkered tile in the kitchen, the old school radiator heat . . . Winston, one of the building’s tenants, who had keys to the washer and dryer machines and would always give me free laundry, and try to sell me weed, AND try to get me to bake him cookies, AND…OK, so I digress.

The point is that I loved living alone. However, after almost seven years with Our Man in L.A. (YEP, seven years come January), I hate when he is gone. I can’t sleep well. It’s horrible. I even have weird flashbacks to when I saw GREMLINS and get scared that Gremlins are hiding in the apartment, so I must turn on all the lights before I enter a room. I know I’m weird. And my very active imagination does not help.

It also does not help that when Chris is out of town usually, the only movies on television are strange horror films. You would probably say, “ DON’T WATCH THEM!” Right? And I admit, part of me thinks that, too. But then it’s 1 a.m., and I am sitting in the dark watching THE RING. Then, I have the horrible journey from the living room to the bedroom, thinking about that scary girl in the movie, and my heart starts pounding. Usually I have to keep reminding myself that it’s only a movie, and that I have worked on movies, and that they are NOT REAL. This mantra usually gets me to the bedroom. From there I calmly remind myself that, like in the movie THE SIXTH SENSE (usually also on when Chris is gone), those ghosts just want someone to listen to them. And if I see one, just simply relax and listen to what they have to say.

OK, so clearly I have problems. Just try not to judge.

DAY AFTER ELECTION DAY SPECIAL . . . the Not Quite Tuesday Top Five!

2006-11-08T16:51:00.000-08:00

The last couple of days have been pretty hectic for Our Man in LA, and the blogging has suffered, as it will, from time to time. In fact, look for guest writers and artists (I’m looking in your direction, Our Woman in LA) next week, because I’ll be traveling all over God’s Green Earth to raise money for peaceful coexistence and conflict resolution and stuff like that.

But I’m here now, and today’s been pretty good, so I might as well treat y’all to another edition of the day-late, dollar-short Tuesday Top Five.

Blogger’s note: As you all know, Our Man in LA doesn’t normally go for the political in these parts. It’s just not my scene. But it’s the day following a major mid-term election, and though I promise that I’ll give some non-political dish in my list, I’d be remiss if I didn’t reflect on the massive changes afoot across the country.

So if you hate the political, feel free to skip to the non-political, or just grin and bear it, or whatever. You’ve been warned.

On with the list . . .

5) Rick Santorum’s defeat in Pennsylvania. Awwwwww, did you see Santorum looking all misty and his daughter looking all sad during the big, bad concession speech last night. Heh. I liked it, too.

Now, look, folks, I don’t normally celebrate the sadness and defeat of others (except for when I encounter Texas A&M or Oklahoma Sooner fans – then all bets are off). But Santorum’s a special kind of scuzz who never should have made it into the American political landscape, let alone from a state like Pennsylvania, where people are exposed to at least a minimal amount of book-learning.

Santorum really had it all as a major apologist for the Bush administration. He tried to slip an amendment promoting the stupid, lame-brained theory of intelligent design into the No Child Left Behind Act. He called it the Santorum Amendment. If it had worked, we could have called the act “No Child Left Behind, Except in Science Education When Compared to Other Westernized Nations.” Sheesh.

By the way, Santorum also argued in favor of a wall separating the States and Mexico; he’s also fought for legislation to push for regime change in other nations, but without keeping out companies like Halliburton; and of course, he’s a big fan of the war in Iraq.

In fact, he’s such a big fan of the Iraq war, that in describing it, he made analogies between the U.S. action in the Middle East and . . . wait for it . . .

Wait . . .

THE LORD OF THE RINGS. That’s the one. With the Hobbits. About the war, he said: “As the hobbits are going up Mount Doom, the Eye of Mordor is being drawn somewhere else. It's being drawn to Iraq and it's not being drawn to the U.S. You know what? I want to keep it on Iraq. I don't want the Eye to come back here to the United States.”

Uh, OK. We’re . . . Hobbits in this? Or elves?

Last word on this subject belongs to none other than Senator Bob Kerrey of Nebraska, who worked with Santorum over the years. Santorum, of course, is known for being fiercely partisan, and for alienating, well, just about everyone who doesn’t think the world is 6,000 years old.

Kerrey’s comment? “Santorum - That's Latin for asshole.”

Bye, Rick. Won’t miss you.

4) Catching up on my Movies. See? See, I’m off politics for an item now. No worries for anyone.

Anyhow, here’s the situation. The wife and I had an opportunity to catch up on the burgeoning Oscar season a little over last weekend. When you live in LA, you pretty much owe it to yourself to go to the movies as much as possible. Sorry to say it, but the theaters are mostly just better, and the crowds are mostly more responsive.

So we caught THE PRESTIGE on Saturday night at the Los Feliz 3, just a couple of short blocks from our house. If you don’t know this one, it’s about two rival illusionists (Hugh Jackman, Christian Bale) at the turn of the century, each obsessed with beating out the other at being the best in the world at their particular craft.

Fun movie, good cast with good performances, interesting script, good direction. Probably about a half hour too long, which made it a B+ instead of an A-. But interesting. Definitely interesting. Certainly worth a watch.

Then on Sunday, we ran over to Sunset and Vine and caught LITTLE CHILDREN at the Arclight Cinerama. It’s directed by Todd Field, who also did IN THE BEDROOM, and this is a likewise cheery little tale. It’s about a bored housewife and stay-at-home dad who start an affair over the summer, while a child molester moves into the neighborhood. See what I mean? Cheery.

It’s the better movie of the two, but if I had to watch either of them again, I’d choose THE PRESTIGE. It’s also a little too long, and really, it’s pretty depressing. And pretty adult. So the tool who brought his five-year-old daughter to the flick will rightly have a lot of therapy bills to pay later on in life. Nice move, Einstein.

Still, always good to get out to the movies.

3) My home state of Ohio. No, not just because Ohio State looks pretty good – even after a close game with Illinois last week. And certainly not because of the Bengals, who do not look like they did last year. Nope, sorry, everyone.

I’m back on politics.

See, if you remember, Ohio was the state that knocked our current president into the winner’s column a couple of years back. In my opinion, it was probably because the genius that the Democrats threw into the ring spent nearly all his time visiting depressed inner-city neighborhoods in Cleveland and Cincinnati. In case you haven’t heard of them, Cleveland and Cincinnati are shrinking industrial cities that have suffered through a lot of poverty and crime over the past 20 or 30 years.

In other words, they’re areas that would have voted for Kerry/Edwards anyway. Meanwhile, Columbus, biggest city in the state and getting bigger all the time, stands as home to much of Ohio’s middle class, NASCAR dads, soccer moms, and so on. Kerry/Edwards didn’t spend much time with them, so alas, they lost Ohio.

Today, though, my home state (known as “the Buckeye State,” “Round on the Ends and Hi in the middle,” “The Birthplace of Aviation,” “The Heart of it All,” and of course, “Home of Jerry Springer!”) went blue.

For the first time since the 80s, the Buckeyes voted in a Democrat for governor, for senator, and in bunches of House races. Even in races that should have been nigh impossible, the boys in blue overtook the guys in red.

In the past, as Ohio has gone, so has the nation gone. Let’s hope that they stay blue a little longer. Like till 2008. Maybe a little longer than that.

2) KARUNA YOGA, on Hillhurst, between Franklin and Finley. It’s a small, cool Yoga studio right near the Alcove (one of Our Woman in LA’s fave hangouts), and it’s become a regular haunt for both of us Wielands.

That’ right, folks, Our Woman in LA and I are doing yoga. Not such a big deal for Steph. She’s been doing yoga for years. Part of her regular workout routine. But now, true to his newfound California lifestyle, I’m doing my share of downward-facing dog poses, too.

Good exercise, truth be told. I sweat more at Karuna than I do when I run. And, if you ask Our Woman in LA, “You’re just doing the easy classes.”

Maybe, but I’m going to keep with it, once or twice a week. Steph’s up to five or six times per week, and I might never get to that point. Doesn’t matter.

The point is expanding the mind, stretching the body . . . that kind of stuff.

Plus, I saw the dude who played Long Duc Dong in SIXTEEN CANDLES there once. How cool is that?

1) OK, I’m going political again. Sorry about this, but look, I won’t even say much. You don’t have to see much in the way of my ranting. Not at all.

Just pictures.

Go ahead, try and make up your own caption to either of these. As for me, I just keep singing "No Time Left For You" by the Guess Who.

Remember that one? They play it on Oldies stations:

No time left for you
On my way to better things
No time left for you
I found myself some wings
No time left for you
Distant roads are calling me
No time left for you

No time for a summer friend
No time for the love you send
Seasons change, and so did I
You need not wonder why
You need not wonder why
There's no time left for you
No time left for you

Well, you get the idea.

It’s like Christmas morning around here, isn’t it?

So long, Rummy. Can’t say we’ll miss you.

Tonight's OUR MAN IN LA will shock you!

2006-11-06T13:47:00.000-08:00

Well, probably not. But anyway, here's the story.

So Our Woman in LA calls me at work (also known as the home office) this morning when she's on her commute. "Did you hear the news?" she asks.

"What news?" I ask. Because maybe I did hear it. I read about the dolphins they found in the Sea of Japan that have flippers so large that scientists believe they're remnants of rear legs from the time when dolphins WALKED ON THE LAND.

But it's not that news.

"The big news," she said. "About DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES."

I don't watch DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES, and I hadn't heard.

"They're talking about it on the radio this morning," she said. "I guess a lot of the characters were held at gunpoint in a supermarket on last night's episode, and one of them got shot and killed."

"Which one?" Because even though I've never seen the show, I've seen all the housewives displayed on the cover of FHM and MAXIM. You know, at the 7-11 counter. Our Man in LA doesn't buy that stuff, he just . . . never mind.

"I don't know which one. Can you look it up for me?"

So I did. It was some character named Nora, played by an actress not frequently on he cover of FHM. The same actress, for what it's worth, also doesn't date Michael Bolton, an NBA star, or Seacrest, Clooney, or any number of other people she's been linked to in the media. She also hasn't been nominated for an Oscar for playing someone transgender.

None of this is the actress' fault. I'm sure she was great, and if you watch the show, you'd know better than I would. Oh, and she got killed by Laurie Metcalf, the Steppenwolf actress who also appeared on the sitcom ROSEANNE. When did she get on that show? I'm not sure. ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY reports that she wore pearls during the attack and praises the irony of having the character do that.

Um, OK.

So what's the point, Wieland? Is that what you're asking?

I don't know that I have one. I guess if I did have one it would be, how on Earth did I get so far behind the pop culture curve that this factoid had no resonance for me at all? When did I fall behind? I live in SoCal, for God's sake!

It's the biggest thing since "Who Shot J.R.", the radio said.

This is J.R. Ewing. Pretty cool ascot, huh?

And I did see those "Who Shot J.R." episodes, even living back in Ohio. It was Kristin, who was Sue Ellen's sister, with whom J.R. was having an affair. But then, he had a lot of affairs.

Sooooo . . . I guess I'm not arguing with Seacrest or whomever that it's the biggest thing since Larry Hagman took a couple in the chest, but if it is, then I'm way behind. Pop culture has spun beyond me . . . and before I reached the end of the essential 18 to 49 demographic. The horrors.

So update me, everyone. What else did I miss? Is Paris Hilton still annoying? Are aging baby boomer rock stars still doing expensive reunion tours? Are people still whining about the new James Bond?

Sigh. Does this mean that I have to start watching DANCING WITH THE STARS? I would normally make a LOST joke here. But that's getting a little tired. Back on subject, do I have to watch GREY'S ANATOMY or GHOST WHISPERER (is that still on?)?

Otherwise, how will I ever keep up with these SHOCKING! cliffhangers? How will I know what's going on when there's a VERY SPECIAL anything?

And how will I live with myself if I can't keep up?

Oh, it'll probably be fine. But just in case, I went online and asked J.R. Ewing himself how I could live like this. You can do it too at a site called: http://www.ultimatedallas.com/characters/jrquotes.htm. It generates quotes from J.R. and other major characters from DALLAS.

J.R.'s response: "Oh, Barnes, you get dumber and dumber every day."

But my name is Chris. And it's . . .

Whatever. Now I know why they shot you, J.R. Probably that Nora girl, too.

Wow, that really was devastating . . .

2006-11-02T13:27:00.000-08:00

Remember a few months ago, when Paramount Pictures dumped Tom Cruise and his production company like a hot potato? Remember how the entertainment press went out of their way to find ways to work Mr. Cruise's movie titles into articles dissing the huge movie star?

Remember? His firing was a "Day of Thunder," he was no longer Hollywood's "Top Gun," hiring him was "Risky Business," and you'd have to have your "Eyes Wide Shut" to not think he was "Far and Away" from being the big star he'd once been.

I could go on, but honestly, the fewer MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE references anywhere, the better. See? I'm mad at myself for that one.

Well, apparently people highly exaggerated those reports of Mr. Cruise's stardom demise. Because today, he and his production partner Paula Wagner took control of United Artists, a film studio owned by MGM and originally started by the likes of Charlie Chaplin, Mary Pickford, and Douglas Fairbanks.

Yup. Mr. Cruise will appear in UA's pics, but he can also be in those produced by other studios. Ms. Wagner will be CEO of UA. The two of them will control the production slate, which will be four movies a year. They also have a financial stake in the company, which means they'll continue to make a lot of money. Look, Suri and Katie have got to eat.

This action today gives us all - and upcoming movie stars in particular - one major lesson. One thing to grow on. One major, major takeaway.

This is it:

Movie stars, when you're interviewed by Matt Lauer, pick on him. Just do it. It can't help but hit again.

By the way, Our Man in LA has done some serious research, and I present to you here a list of the next several years' worth of United Artists features. These are just film titles, you understand, but how can't you help but get excited about these titles? They're so . . . clear. Chaplin would be proud.

Here they are:

Mission Earth: Black Genesis
The Enemy Within
Fear
To the Stars
Disaster
The Invaders Plan
The Kingslayer: Seven Steps to the Arbiter
Typewriter in the Sky
Buckskin Brigades

Want to know more about any of these titles? Well, they're all based on books that you can purchase on Amazon.com.

OK, yeah, I'm joking. They're all books by L. Ron Hubbard.

So maybe I'm actually right. Would you bet against Cruise taking aim at Hubbard novel? You know, after the success of Battlefield Earth?

Have a great weekend, everyone.

WEDNESDAY BOTTOM ONE: Going political

2006-11-01T14:04:00.000-08:00

Our Man in LA rarely goes political, just like he rarely reads the New York Times, rarely brings up the differences between a Santa Barbara Pinot Noir and an Oregon one, and rarely mentions anything to do with stock quotes.

It's not that I don't understand any of that stuff. It's not that it's so above me, subject matter wise. It's just that I'm more comfortable with stupid, trivial minutiae. Comic books, college football, movies, and good weather. See, that's my best stuff. Pretty much, those four subjects (and bitching about LOST, which no, I'm not watching anymore) take up most of the space in my head.

That's just how it works.

But today, I'm going for the political. Because my Wednesday Bottom One belongs to . . .

Yup. 2004 Presidential hopeful John Kerry.

Now don't get me wrong. I voted for this guy in '04, and I'd do it again four or five hundred times over. I'm a Democrat and a liberal, and even though I didn't think Kerry was the best choice for the job, he was my guy. And when I say he wasn't the best choice for the job, it's because I think that in our deeply divided nation, red America probably will not be quick to embrace a Massachusetts Democrat (which is code for "Kill 'em, Stewie!" in the southeast) who can't speak in simple sound bytes.

It's too bad, but that's the reality. He's not the kind of guy who moves NASCAR dads in Columbus, OH, or Raleigh, NC. Neither would I. But I'm not running.

I'm also not rehashing this because Kerry should have slaughtered Bush in the '04 election, nor because it looks like he's going to try and throw his hat in the ring again.

I'm also not on Kerry's case because I think he should apologize to our troops in Iraq. That's ridiculous. But that's related to my issue.

If you don't know about this situation, here's an updated CNN report where you can read all about it:

http://www.cnn.com/2006/POLITICS/11/01/kerry.remarks/index.html

Basically, at Pasadena City College on Monday, Kerry said the following:

"You know, education -- if you make the most of it, you study hard and you do your homework and you make an effort to be smart, you can do well.

"If you don't, you get stuck in Iraq."

And the Republicans celebrated! Oh, how they danced! "Kerry should be ashamed of himself," blah, blah, blah. "He insulted our brave men and women!" Blah, blah, blah. "He's a monster and a traitor who would probably like to see Saddam Hussein blow up New York like on September 11!"

OK, I made the last quote up. It was more implied. Anyhow, the Red America found themselves incensed at the idea that our military forces are not highly educated.

And yeah, I know Saddam didn't have anything to do with 9/11. It's just - it was hyperbole, and half the country thinks he did. And no, not the half that believes that online movie about the Pentagon being hit by missiles . . . it's the other half, and . . .

Sorry. Got way off course there. Back to the Bottom One.

Kerry's response? "But that's not what I meant. Of course those soldiers are smart men and women. What I meant to say was:

"I can't overstress the importance of a great education. Do you know where you end up if you don't study, if you aren't smart, if you're intellectually lazy? You end up getting us stuck in a war in Iraq."

See that?! Whoa, get it!?! It's a dis on Bush! Holy Guacamole! See, Bush is intellectually lazy and . . .

And he got us . . . stuck . . .

In Iraq . . . in a war.

Not funny, is it? No. Not really. It's kind of obvious, actually. And it's really poorly phrased, even the way it was intended.

It's kind of . . . lame. I mean, doesn't he have better ammo to heave at Bush than this? Really? And how much do you want to bet that half of America doesn't get it either way? Yeah, I wouldn't take that bet, either.

Sorry, John. For what it's worth, I still wish you were president. Sigh.

No pictures today, just a little something we call the TUESDAY TOP FIVE

2006-10-31T13:32:00.000-08:00

So I'm fresh out of pics from my travels across this great land of ours, and it's just in time to weigh in on the good things in life this week. It's been a while since I've done one of these, and I will try to remain short and to the point in my descriptions.

You might have noticed, Our Man in LA tends to tell a long, involved story. It's just one of my quirks. Whatever. Onward.

5) THE ART OF INTRUSION by Kevin Mitnick. Ever since I saw the movie WAR GAMES with Matthew Broderick way back in the 5th or 6th grade, I've been fairly fascinated by computer hackers. Never had the patience, the computer knowledge, or hard wiring to be one (not to mention the desire to serve time at a federal prison), but I still find them interesting.

Mitnick, allegedly the inspiration for Broderick's character in WAR GAMES and an infamous hacker in his own heyday, writes this as a business book - showing companies how they can get taken by hackers and con artists through a combination of lax computer security, staff negligence and perseverence on the part of an enterprising person with a computer and a modem.

It's fairly chilling on the one hand, but a fascinating true crime read on the other.

4) The NFL stalling on its return to Los Angeles. You might have heard about this, if you read any of the coverage of the NFL Owners meetings in New Orleans last week. Basically, the LA area is on hold to ever get an NFL team again, mostly because the city of LA (and all the other cities around it), as well as the state of California, have no interest in putting up state money for a new team, stadium renovations, etc.

But Wieland, you'll say. You love football. You're against this, right?

Nope. Not for a second. In fact, not even no. Hell, no.

Why?

First of all, I'm liking things the way they are. I like seeing the best NFL games on Sunday. I like not being hemmed in by whatever the local guys are doing. And moreover, I'm calling the NFL's bluff. LA's still the second biggest market in this country. Every team with a stadium issue is still going to try and use us for leverage.

And ridiculous as it might sound, I still haven't counted out Al Davis bringing the Raiders back - just as a big middle finger to the league.

But my neighbors and I should have to pay more in taxes or whatever so that we can get the Saints, Jaguars, Vikings, Chargers or whoever to come here?

We can already see them on TV. When they play someone good. Which is not every week.

Does this make my new hometown of LA a bad sports town? Hell, I don't know. If coming to the game a little late and leaving a little early because you want to enjoy the day makes you a bad sports town, then I guess we are. But those teams I mentioned above aren't going to change that. So I might as well catch part of the best game of the week before I head to the beach.

I'm just saying.

3) THE DEPARTED. I realize I'm late to the party with reports that this movie's really, really good. But it is. So go see it if you haven't already. It's been years and years since Scorsese made a movie this powerful and tough.

Ditto the performances. For years, I'd wondered why people loved Jack Nicholson as much as they do. Sorry, but WITCHES OF EASTWICK and WOLF never did it for me. He was fun to watch, but great? Well, forget that. Here he's great.

And pretty much likewise everyone else. Damon hasn't been this good since GOOD WILL HUNTING, Leo since GILBERT GRAPE. And Wahlberg . . . well, has he ever been in anything this good? BOOGIE NIGHTS, maybe? Yeah, OK. He's better here.

The pace and writing are fantastic. You really are on the edge of your seat. It's worth it.

2) Hollywood Vegan on Hillhurst just south of Franklin. Or maybe it's called Green Leaves Vegan. We've got two menus from the place, each with a different name. Either way, it's one of my new favorite haunts in all of LA.

You see, Our Woman in LA likes her thai food, but we haven't been able to find a place that's just right since getting here. A few have been close (Natalee in Culver City's not bad), but this place just hits the spot. Great noodles, great curries, and probably the best veggie spring rolls I've ever had. And it's cheap. $20 for both of us, with a delivery fee included! Wow!

If you're in the neighborhood, you have to check this place out. If you're a tofu guy or gal, it's awesome. If you're a meat substitute kind of person, it's also mighty tasty.

If you're into big slabs of red meat or something, you might want to try something else . . . but if you'll expand your horizons, it's good eating.

1) OK, for this one, I'm going to the pictures . . .

Perched in the hills of Griffith Park, just above Our Home in LA, is the Griffith Observatory. It's a super cool building featured in a ton of films and TV shows. It's where James Dean first met Nathalie Wood in REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE. In the 50s Superman TV show, it was the home of Jor-El.

And it's been closed for four years for repairs. Until now.

That's right. The Observatory is open, and once again LA has one of its landmarks back. Our Woman in LA and I are heading up there very soon, so there'll be much more to report.

In the meantime, here are a few more images from one of the most majestic places in the western United States.

A view of downtown LA from the observatory.

If that's not Top Five worthy, then I got nothing else. See you later.

It might not be the Great Pumpkin . . .

2006-10-30T21:08:00.000-08:00

But at least it's from an extremely sincere Pumpkin Patch!

Happy Halloween to friends, family, and folks. Hope you're having a good night, away from the ghouls and goblins. And, to make a few more Charlie Brown references: 1) I hope you didn't have any trouble with the scissors . . .

2) That nobody got a rock; and 3) That nobody spent all night in a pumpkin patch with some blockhead . . .

Here in LA, Our Woman and I are spending a fairly chill All Hallow's Eve, not dressing up and funning with the hipsters in West Hollywood, or making the yearly pilgrimage to the Hollywood Forever Cemetary to catch a flick or a glimpse of a long dead stare.

Mostly, being folks who have to get up for work, we're sticking around the house, watching DVDs and having dinner.

But that doesn't mean that we can't entertain our friends with a few more pics.

See, before we left North Carolina, the wife and her dad and stepmom took a little time to decorate pumpkins and make some righteous Jack O'Lanterns.

In the spirit of the holiday, here's a few of them . . .

Sure, they don't look so tough right now, but the sun is going down. Mwah ha ha.

First there's this spider, courtesy of Our Father in Law in Carolina.

Seriously, if you wake up in the middle of the night and see this, you'll have two thoughts: 1) Why did I drink like that at Schumann's wedding? and 2) What the hell's a glowing spider doing in my bedroom?

And then, if you're living in a horror movie, you run. And maybe you die.

And then there's the bat, courtesy of Our Woman in LA . . .

And then it gets scarier at night . . .

And then there's the scary face, also courtesy of Our Woman in LA . . .

What can I tell you? I can hear Vincent Price's voice right now. Brrrr.

Happy Halloween, everyone.

Destination #3: Almost there at the fair

2006-10-26T15:51:00.000-07:00

Even after the wedding weekend, the travels weren't over. Oh no! There were still miles to go before we slept. But don't worry your heads about us - because, you see, we would not be without provisions on the final leg of our journey.

Nope. We'd have all the corn dogs, funnel cake, fried dough, turkey legs, and deep-fried candy bars that we could ingest.

That's because the last stop on the "Where in the World is Our Man in LA?" itinerary featured a stopover at the North Carolina State Fair in Our Woman's hometown of Raleigh, N.C.

Steph and I first started dating nearly seven years ago, and through virtually the entire relationship, she's been talking about her dream trip. I know what you're thinking. Paris, right? Or Rome? London? Hong Kong or Sydney?

Not even the Grand Canyon, folks. No sir, my bride wanted a trip to the NC State Fair, and what my baby wants, my baby gets.

Now the Fair is kind of a cult thing for the people living in or raised in North Carolina. A colleague of mine raised in Fayetteville reacted to the news that we were going by saying, "I'm so jealous."

Friends from Raleigh who relocated to Chicago, and who we saw over the Schumann wedding weekend, got a glazed look in their faces when we mentioned the Fair. "The best," was all they could say. "The best."

What's so great, I'd ask.

"The best," they'd say.

I'd been to the State Fair in Texas, and it was big and not too shabby. I'd been to County Fairs in Ohio, seen statues made out of butter, and the like. So what made this one any different from any other?

Well, it is big . . .

And it is pretty fun. Have to say that Our Woman in LA and I had a pretty good time heading out there. But don't just believe me.

Let's take a look at the tape.

Here's Our Woman in LA and I trying a candy apple. I'd never had one of these bad boys before. Carmel apples, sure. And to be honest, when I heard the phrase "candy apple," that's what I thought people meant. Carmel is, after all, a candy.

Man, was I wrong.

Candy apples cover the fruit with a hard candy shell, sort of the consistency of a candy cane, only more red and closer to apple-flavored. It's really, really bad for your teeth. I mean, really bad. And it's really hard to bite into.

Our Woman in LA and I shared this one, and good though it was, we didn't quite finish the thing.

Of course, eating is a big part of the fair, and Fair Food Professionals go out of their way to make sure that anything represented in the major food groups can be deep fried. For example, here you'll see fried vegetables prominently displayed. Not quite as ground-breaking as the fried coca-cola (still the most disgusting idea I've ever heard), but it gets the job done.

Among the foods I had never seen before were a "hush puppy claw." For the uninitiated, that's a crab claw dipped in cornmeal batter and fried. And the deep-fried candy bar, of course. Which is pretty much like it sounds.

If you're going to a fair, you have to go to the agriculture section. Now, living in LA, we don't get to see this kind of thing very much. No matter how many commercials I might see from the California Dairy Commission proclaiming that "Happy Cows make good milk, and Happy Cows are warm and live in California," I honestly haven't seen a farm animal of any kind since I left the Midwest two years ago.

So there we were at the ag tent, and we thought we'd record our experience. Look at the big pumpkins. Yup, they're big.

We would have spent more time looking at the animals in the ag center, but if you're an animal lover, it's hard to appreciate the champion, blue ribbon cattle when it's standing in a cage below a sign that reads:

"Bessie, the blue ribbon heifer, has been purchased by Harris Teeter Supermarket for $17,000!"

So you get a picture of the pumpkins.

So what's got Our Man in LA a little worried? Is he afraid that he'll never eat a corn dog again? Is he nervous at the sight of the world's largest pig (recently purchased by Kroger for $20K)?

Nope. He's standing next to a case full of bees.

Ah, enough of my protests about animal cruelty. Back to the food. Here's Steph enjoying the healthiest food we had all day (and actually my favorite).

What, the corn is slathered in butter? Yup, still the healthiest thing we had all day.

When you're going to go to the fair, folks, you have to win a big stuffed animal for your lady. It's like a law. So I won this stuffed monkey for Steph at a game that involved throwing darts at balloons.

And when I say I won it, what I mean is that I paid the guy behind the counter more than $30 to give me enough darts to earn the monkey, or any other stuffed animal in the place.

Two things about the monkey bear mentioning. First, like a real monkey, it sheds. You see, when you win big at the dart balloon, you get a stuffed animal with an unmatched degree of realism.

Second, when we left the Fair that night, we got into my father-in-law's pickup truck (used for his business, but it was a spare vehicle for us), turned on the radio, and pulled onto the gravel and mud road leading from Fair Parking to the main thoroughfares.

Mellencamp played on the radio. I looked at my wife. I looked at the monkey on the seat between us. I listened to a few bars of "Hurts So Good." Outside the truck, I watched as a young mother walked hand in hand with her toddler daughter toward the family truck. Mom had a cigarette in one hand, her daughter's tiny fist in another.

Mom dropped the cigarette in a huge mud puddle and kept walking. Then she stopped. She went back, still holding onto her baby girl.

She picked up the mud-spotted cigarette. She began smoking it again.

I looked at my wife, who saw the whole thing.

"Steph," I said. "Here we are. We just saw that. We're in a pickup, in Fair traffic, there's a stuffed monkey that I won in between us, and we're listening to Mellencamp. How much more country could we get?"

None much more, she agreed.

Ah, but there's beauty to be found there, at the Fair. This is a shot of the Ferris Wheel, all lit up for the night. Before we left (and before we saw the mud smoking mom), we took a ride on this wheel. Stretched out before us, we saw the Midway and all the people, we felt the crisp night air.

And I'll be damned. There was something just a little special about it.

Destination #2: Windy City nuptials

2006-10-25T12:31:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, Steph and I returned to Chicago, where we each lived for a long, long time. For Our Woman in LA, it was the first time back in town after two years of living in the warmth and splendor of sunny Southern California.

To be honest, Our Man in LA found himself a bit a-feared about his lovely bride's reaction. I wondered if being around all our old friends would make her miss it. Would she long for the days of commuting on the el? Would she pine for fall clothing, and winter clothing? For talk about the '85 Bears (and God help us all, the '06 Bears)?

The answer, it appears, is no. No, she doesn't pine for the Big Windy at all. It's cold, she tells me. People smoke in bars and restaurants. The smell of fried lard wafts its way outside the restaurants. And the plays at the Steppenwolf are just as self-important as they ever were.

Of course, that's not the point. The point was seeing friends and catching up with the people that we both miss quite a bit. The even bigger point was watching Rob "Bachelor Party Guy" Schumann walk down the aisle and get married to Dr. Heather Eyrich (aka, One of the Toughest Women in the World), in what might be the last great wedding of my generation.

And of course, the biggest point of all was decimating the free bar at Schumann's reception.

Folks, mission accomplished. But don't take my word for it. Let's go to the tape.

Here's Our Woman in LA and me at the Rehearsal Dinner. At this point, we've only had a couple of drinks and some wine with dinner.

This here's the man of the hour - Robert Theodore Schumann, this season's groom. How did he win the title of this season's groom? Well, the baseball cap he's wearing actually says "Groom" on it. Stay with the program.

Oh, and this is what Rob looks like when he's sober. The mind reels, doesn't it?

Reggie Newton, newly minted lawyer. He learned just a few short weeks ago that he passed the Illinois bar exam, and now he's working for the State's Attorney's Office in Chicago, busting crooks and absentee fathers left and right.

Reggie's not intoxicated here, FYI. But it does bear mentioning that all new lawyers in Illinois are required to wear a suit at all times. Seriously, all times. Even when swimming.

Reggie is in full compliance.

Greg "Professor Evenkeel" Rolnick, new dad, advertising genius, and writer of a great blog about parenthood at rolnick.net. Like Our Man in LA, a proud usher of the Schumann-Eyrich nuptials.

Also, there's a bee in that beer. That renders the thing almost undrinkable. Almost.

A lot of Chicago friends and Schumann well-wishers. Basically, it's the usual suspects. Someday, these people might run the world, or even a Dairy Queen. Tomorrow, they'll mostly be hung over.

Our Man and Woman in LA. We clean up all right. I'm in my ushing gear, courtesy of After Hours Formal Wear. The wife is just plain gussied up.

Reggie and Sarah, post-wedding. Also cleaned and gussied up.

And note, Reggie is wearing a suit. Full compliance, people. Full compliance.

Now we're into the reception. Sadly, being neophyte photographers, Our Woman in LA and I only have a couple of photos of the bride and groom together, which, of course, is the whole point of the day.

Here they are, schmoozing with the party guests.

Here are the ladies. Kerry, Heather, Sarah, Our Woman in LA, Jennifer, and MJ.

No jokes here. As the night would go on, there would be drinking and dancing for this crew. Alas, I'm not allowed to show all the pictures. So use the imagination, folks. Fun times.

Me with Reggie and Grant Blair, an old buddy and newly minted teacher recently returned to Chicago from a sojourn to North Carolina that lasted five or six years. Grant's also got a blog worth checking out, about life working for the Chicago Public Schools. It's at grantblair.blogspot.com.

The three of us have been pals for more than 15 years now. As a result, there are dozens of photos of us over the years in roughly this pose, only with changes in age. Except for Grant, who somehow has escaped aging altogether.

This is the groom, on his happiest day. And yes, he's licking an ice sculpture.

How'd this happen?

Well, as you might guess, the drinks were flowing. And Steph turns to Greg Rolnick, and the following conversation begins:

Steph: See that ice sculpture? How much would it take for you to lick that ice sculpture?

Greg: I'm not doing that!

Steph: A hundred dollars!

Greg: OK, I'll do it.

Steph: I don't have a hundred dollars.

Greg: How much you got on you?

Steph: Twenty.

Greg: I'll do it.

He licks it. Takes the money. Chris walks up.

Chris: What's up?

Greg: I just licked the ice sculpture.

Steph: I paid him $20 to do it.

Chris: You should have asked Schumann to do it. He would have done it for free.

Schumann walks up.

Schumann: What's up?

Chris: Steph wants to know if you'd lick that ice sculpture for free.

Schumann: Has she met me? Let me at that thing!

And there you have it. One shudders at what he might have done, given $20.

After that, the evening began to wind down. Folks began to head back. We took a few "cute couple" picks. And, of course, the bar closed.

On the way back, Steph decided to make a few calls on the house phone at the Pheasant Run Resort. I'm not sure anyone answered.

But Wieland, you're asking, how do we know that you had a really good time. Where's the proof?

The proof, my friends, is in the day after picture. Witness my lovely bride . . .

That says it all, doesn't it? I think the room's still spinning.

Anyway, that's the wedding weekend in a nutshell, folks. Tune in tomorrow for part three of "Where in the World is Our Man in LA?"

Destination #1: Racing through the happiest place on Earth

2006-10-24T17:09:00.000-07:00

Actually, it's the second happiest place on Earth. Disneyland, that is. The park in Florida's a little bigger. It's got that Epcot thing that everyone's all gaga about. And it got there first.

So Disneyland, right here in Southern California, is the happiest place with no mosquitos. And no humidity. And . . .

Wait a minute. Maybe it IS the happiest place on Earth, after all.

Just ask this woman here:

That's one of the organizers of the First Annual Disneyland Half Marathon, run last month by more than 10,000 people, including Our Woman in LA and me. She's at a pep rally held the night before the big race. I don't want anyone to get the idea that this woman runs around with pom-poms all the time.

She might. I really don't know. Haven't done the research. And that's not really what this post is about.

What is the subject of this post? Fine, cut to the chase.

As most of you know, last month, Steph and I went down to Anaheim, which we've established is at least one of the happiest places on Earth, to run in this race. We did really well - both of us cutting a lot of time off our first race speed, and more importantly, both of us raising a good deal of money for people in LA with HIV/AIDS.

Sure, you all knew this before. But you hadn't seen the . . . photos!

For the uninitiated, Anaheim is south of LA, in Orange County. It's home to Disneyland, the California Disney Adventure, the Pond hockey arena, Angel Stadium, and Knott's Berry Farm.

I have no idea if anyone actually lives there.

For all I know, it might just be where stadium and theme park employees go to work. If there are residents, the good news is that I imagine that they never have trouble finding parking. There are always spots in the Goofy Garage and Dopey lot at the Magic Kingdom.

I'm just saying.

Anyway, on with the photos.

Here's Our Man in LA and his lovely bride, the day before the race. We're not sweating, our muscles aren't sore, and we're eating carbohydrates. What could be better?

Here I am with my running team. We did our entire training together, averaging between 11:00 and 11:30 per mile. We finished the race together, too. But when this was taken, it was 4 a.m. and we were crowded into a corral in the streets of Downtown Disney, waiting for the first gun to go off.

Our Man and Woman in Disneyland, moments before the race. In two hours and change, this'll be over for both of us.

Running on the field at Angel Stadium, a self-portrait. When we completed the race through the stadium, we had finished ten miles. I am not exaggerating when I say that miles 11 and 12 were the least fun.

Why? Well, it's not just that your body has come to the conclusion that you're really going to run more than 13 miles. That's part of it, sure.

But it also has to do with the scenery. By this point, we'd run through Disneyland, the California Adventure, the streets of Anaheim, past the Pond, and through one of the coolest baseball stadiums in the country (and home to the Rally Monkey!). What was left?

Freeway overpasses, low-rent stripmalls, and hotel parking lots in miles 11 and 12.

Mile 13 was cool. Don't get me wrong. We were back in Downtown Disney, almost to the finish line. But oh, that 11 and 12.

But in the end, was it worth it?

I'd say it was. Good cause, good run, nice day in the Magic Kingdom.

And yeah, those are medals around our necks, dude. Medals.

Can't beat that with a stick.

That's all for now. Tune in tomorrow for another day of "Where in the World is Our Man in LA?"

Where in the World is Our Man in LA??

2006-10-24T16:30:00.000-07:00

Pretty much anywhere but LA, the past few weeks.

I know, I know. It doesn't seem right. There I was, talking about how the blog wouldn't and couldn't die, bringing back Tuesday Top Fives and all that, and then deserting the blog again for weeks at a time.

Basically, Our Man in LA went on Walkabout. Our Woman in LA and I have been all over - to Chicago; to Raleigh-Durham, North Carolina; to Anaheim . . .

OK, I know that most of you probably think Anaheim's just a part of LA. The Angels play there, after all. And they're the Los Angeles Angels of . . . somewhere else, right? It's not the same. Trust me.

Any way you want to look at it, we've traveled far and wide. Now normally, that wouldn't be enough to excuse our absence. But I brought you guys a gift. Really good one. Seriously. I mean I can take it back if you don't want it . . .

All right, read on. It's . . . PICTURES WITH MILDLY AMUSING CAPTIONS! I'll try to make one or two of them funny. Seriously I will. But you have to read them all to find the one or two that are chuckle-worthy.

So read on . . .

If I’m sticking around, I might as well bring you the TUESDAY TOP FIVE

2006-09-26T19:13:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the late post, everyone. It’s been a long, crazy, not-so-fun kind of day. Right now, at about 8:30 CST, I’m just finishing up a day of deadlines and insanity from the world of my day job. But I know you need to take a little time away from work and Internet shopping, so I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t return to form.

So here goes. Five things Our Man in LA is vibing on this week in Southern California:

5) BANGKOK EIGHT by John Burdett. No, it’s not a reference to the recent coup in Thailand. It’s a murder mystery, a hard-boiled detective novel in the tradition of Michael Connelly, Robert Crais, and James Lee Burke – if any of those guys wanted to write about a detective who was part cop, part Buddhist monk, and 100 percent son of a Thai prostitute. Our hero, Sonchai Jitpleecheep (a name that doesn’t make it through spell check) is hot on the trail of a band of killers, motivated by that old detective story chestnut: “When a man’s partner is killed, you do something about it.”

Bottom line, I’d been seeing this in airports for months and finally picked it up. Great, fast read about a world I don’t know. Check it out.

4) STUDIO 60 ON THE SUNSET STRIP. Look, I know everyone and his cousin have already anointed this show, the new one from Aaron Sorkin and featuring a whole load of stars, as the best new show of the television season. Well, sue me. I’m not a real critic, and so I didn’t get to see it until it made it on the air last week. And everyone’s right. Period. It’s just great.

I love the dialogue, I love the acting and the casting and the pace. I love how it doesn’t take itself too seriously – more SPORTS NIGHT than THE WEST WING, and not just because of the subject matter. More to the point, Matthew Perry and Bradley Whitford are made for this kind of show. It’s fantastic.

3) FOOTBALL, BOTH THE COLLEGE AND PRO KIND. You might have heard. It’s back. Halleluiah. We’re three or so weeks into the season (the best time of any year), and already there are just so many highlights. Maybe the best season ever . . . at least so far.

Consider just a few of these moments. If you’re not a fan of these teams, pick your own moments. If you don’t like football, skip ahead.

Back to the moments:

• #1 Ohio State taking on #2 Texas in Austin in front of a gazillion fans. You can’t ask for much more than two great, historic teams taking playing each other in a classic environment. The fact that these are two of my teams is a bonus.
• The Cincinnati Bengals, showing that Carson Palmer is more than just back from his injury, and taking apart the hated Pittsburgh Steelers this weekend. “Man, I hate Pittsburgh. I hate them more than UCLA.” Strong words from a USC grad. We don’t hold that against Carson, now that he’s with the Bengals. And led them to the playoffs.
• Michigan – a team I usually can’t abide – taking apart Notre Dame with surgical precision and some serious anger. On that day, we were all Wolverines.
• The Mighty Mighty Longhorns deciding on their first QB of the post-Vince Young era, and deciding on a boy named Colt McCoy.

I’m just so glad it’s back.

2) THE WIRE. I’ve been hearing about this show for years. I’d heard it’s the best thing going. I’d heard it’s like Dickens on TV. I’d heard that it was better than my favorite show of the 1990s, the brilliant and undervalued HOMICIDE: LIFE ON THE STREETS.

All true.

Our Woman in LA and I started watching this season, at the behest of old pal Rick Porter. He’s been swearing by this program forever, and my only excuse was that it was too far along for me to take part. I promised that one day I’d rent the DVDs. That day is coming sooner and sooner.

Because I’ve never seen a show that captures a place so well. The Baltimore of THE WIRE does a better job of capturing rich and poor, cop and criminal, and showing us how they’re all – how we’re all – connected.

In my first job, I raised money for a mid-sized homeless relief agency in a Chicago neighborhood that’s since gentrified. At the time, it wasn’t so good. THE WIRE reminds me of those days, when I watched cops shake down the guys who hung out on the corner, watched crack deals go down near the el station, and then headed to some rich guy’s house or office so I could ask him for money.

I’m enjoying remembering those times.

1) RUNNER HANGOVER. All right, so two weekends back, Our Woman in LA and I completed the Disneyland Half Marathon. Actually, not just completed it. We rocked it. Both of us cut a bunch of time off our previous 13+ mile race – I came in at 2 hours, 33 minutes; my bride came in at 2 hours, 58.

It was a terrific ending to an amazing period. We loved the training, we loved the fund raising for an amazing cause – helping people who live with HIV and AIDS in Los Angeles. And we loved being a part of a running team, working together week after week and finally finishing the big race in tandem.

What’s more, I’m already jonesing to get back out there, start running again. On Saturday – the first time in months that I didn’t have to get up and run a few miles – I did it anyway. I needed the feel of the pavement against my shoes, the rhythm of it, and the feeling of accomplishment knowing that I can run as far and as fast as I want.

I don’t know how else to explain it. Our Woman in LA and I are runners now. Some mornings, there’s no better way to get started than to head over to Griffith Park, to run past the zoo and the horse trails, and take a good look at the day.

Also, I’ve got this crazy cheer that goes through my head. You see, every week as we trained for Disneyland, our trainer Jared would lead the team in a chant. First he’d yell, and then we would. It went like this:

I!
(I!)
RAISED A LOT OF MONEY!
(RAISED A LOT OF MONEY!)
THE WORLD’S A LOT BETTER!
(THE WORLD’S A LOT BETTER!)
BECAUSE I RULE!
(BECAUSE I RULE!)
I TOTALLY RULE!
(I TOTALLY RULE!)
I TOTALLY FREAKIN’ RULE!
(I TOTALLY FREAKIN’ RULE!)
I’M TOTALLY FREAKIN’ AWESOME!
(I’M TOTALLY FREAKIN’ AWESOME!)
I’M A HERO!
(I’M A HERO!)

Yeah. I could probably go for a run right now.

Not such a proper Viking funeral

2006-09-25T16:49:00.000-07:00

“Seriously, when are you going to post again on the blog?” Our Woman in LA asked me the other night at dinner. I didn’t know, I told her. Things had been busy out here in LA. Besides the heat wave just completed, besides all the travel for work, besides running a half marathon and cutting a whopping 40 minutes off my previous time (that’s right – 40 minutes!), I’ve just been busy.

“Well, if you’re not going to do it anymore, you really should just sign off,” she said. “Just tell folks you’re done.”

Better yet, I told her, why don’t I make it a proper Viking funeral – just set the blog ablaze or at least go out in an epic firestorm of storytelling.

“Yeah,” she said. “That could work.”

But I couldn’t think of anything properly legendary. There’s been no ring cycle of ridiculous stories to tell around here, and seriously, if I can’t go out strong – if I won’t be sent straight to Valhalla, where the Valkyries and greatest warriors of all time are waiting for me with a frosty mug of mead, then seriously, why end this thing at all?

So, naturally, I’m back at the blog. Nothing against the Vikings, you understand. It’s just nobody should get set ablaze before they’ve had their finest moment, and Our Man in LA feels like that time has yet to come.

But we might be on the right track. Especially after the work function I attended last night – something that I’m sure you Midwestern types out there will call an “Only in LA” kind of moment. I like to believe that ridiculous folly and poor taste aren’t limited geographically, so I cling to the hope that this kind of thing could have happened somewhere else. Not sure I buy it, either, but it’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

So OK, picture this. I can’t get much into the specifics because that’d be indiscreet (and probably land me in the land of unemployment). Suffice it to say that there was an event held for a retiring foreign dignitary associated in some way with my employer.

That’s all you’re getting. There’s no code in this, so you can forget about me leaking the names of those involved. I have my pride. What’s left of it.

The party was held in a good sized house perched on a hill in the San Gabriel Valley. Sort of Tudor meets Craftsman style. Jaguars in the driveway. Screening room and full bar in the basement. USC decals on the cars. You get the picture.

So you’re saying, that doesn’t sound too bad. Typical Wieland, bitching about nothing in particular.

And OK, I’ll grant you, it wasn’t all bad. Met with a couple of prospects for work, did all that sort of thing.

But I didn’t count on . . . the entertainment portion of the evening. Oh yeah, that’s right.

The meal ends, and we’re escorted down to the screening room. Folks mill about. We all get comfy. The host re-arranges us to make sure we get the best view in the house.

And it begins.

With one of the party guests doing magic tricks. See, he used to be an amateur magician. And the host has a deck of cards. He tells us he’s got five minutes. He shows us a couple of card tricks. He flubs one badly enough that he actually just says, “Sorry, I’m not even going to try that again.”

Then there’s something with a pair of plastic bunnies. It’d be depressing if not for what came next.

Because after the magician sat down, the lights dimmed. The curtains opened. Music started to swell. The host talked about the next entertainer lovingly – she had played to numerous venues across greater southern California, but what he liked best was her time in the USC glee club.

Sitting there, on a bar stool with a microphone, center stage, in a revealing sequin dress and holding a microphone, was the host’s wife. The music grew louder, and she began to croon some late 50s torch song, something sort of Sinatra light. She shimmied down the stage and nearly sat on the retired foreign dignitary’s lap, cupping and rubbing his face, smiling at his wife, who sat there watching.

Really, really uncomfortable. Confronted by this, the mind races. “OK, wise guy,” you say to yourself. “You’re in the back corner of the room. Do you run for it? Do you just keep smiling to keep from laughing or screaming? What will you do if a nuclear bomb goes off while she sings? Will you run outside and let the radiation’s sweet death embrace you, or will you suffer through this until the food runs out?”

Five minutes later, the song’s over. No nuclear warhead. Bullet dodged.

So I figure I’m done, right. Back upstairs for coffee and dessert, right? Nope.

The next entertainer is the host’s son – a thirtysomething, self-styled “comedian” who gives us a 15-minute routine around the theme of “This is your life, Mr. Retired Foreign Dignitary.” The less said about this, the better. But what the hell, I had to go through it.

Suffice it to say, there were a lot of bits. Quite a few celebrity imitations – he did Alfred Hitchcock, Jimmy Stewart, Katherine Hepburn, and three presidents of the United States. He pretended to be Chinese at one point (wearing a robe and talking like Charlie Chan from a 1940s movie). He pretended to be Indian at another point (talking like Apu from the Simpsons and standing on the stage naked but for a pair of white boxer briefs).

Let me tell you, folks, you just plain haven’t lived till you’ve seen a chunky guy in his mid-30s making hunger strike jokes in a pair of tight boxer briefs AT A DINNER PARTY. And after that, you don’t want to. Live, that is.

After that, there’s a whole sequence of the entertainment that’s a blur. There were some videos of Sinatra singing, presumably because Mr. Retired Foreign Dignitary likes Sinatra. I do, too, but I couldn’t really see the connection. Then there were a couple of laudatory speeches, sort of like toasts, but there was no food or drink allowed in the screening room.

But it seemed to be winding down. I’m figuring to be out any minute now.

And then the host gets up again.

“Well, you know, as we wind down this evening,” he begins. “We’re proud to welcome Mr. Retired Foreign Dignitary to our community. We’re glad to have him with us, and we all understand that to know and love Mr. Foreign Dignitary is ONE SINGULAR SENSATION . . .”

Which is when the music started again. “Oh, Sweet God, no!” I think.

The host pushes a button on his console.

The curtains open. The bars of A CHORUS LINE start to fill the room.

Standing on stage in white leotards, with gold tux jackets, top hats, canes, gloves, and bow ties, are the host’s wife and three of (I presume) her friends. Four middle-aged women, in full gilded costume.

And they danced. And kicked. Not in unison, mind you. But they danced and kicked. No singing, no lip synching. Just dancing and kicking to no particular beat or rhythm.

Now I know what you’re thinking. One of my friends at work voiced it when I recounted the story this morning: “But they were all MILFs, right? Four MILFs?!”

No, I told him. No MILFs at all. Just dancing and kicking. In leotards. For the whole song. Which, by the way, apparently has several verses.

After it was all over, well, it’s a blur again. I remember having part of a cup of coffee. I remember saying good night to Mr. Retired Foreign Dignitary and the host. I got someone else’s business card. I remember mumbling something about “nice work” to the host’s wife and four gilded ladies.

And I remember that once I walked out the door, I practically sprinted to my car. It should have taken me 20 minutes on a Sunday evening to get from the party to our place in Los Feliz. Thanks to my new best friends – the 2 and the 5 freeways – I made it in 10.

Nobody has ever been so happy to see a stretch of freeway. Or even traffic. It’s a singular sensation, you might say.

God, I’ll never get that song out of my head.

The time has come.....

2006-09-08T12:44:00.000-07:00

Thanks for reading this week! My time as blog writer has come to an end. It’s been fun, but I know y’all can’t wait for Our Man in L.A. to come back. So, stay tuned for his return…………

Things that make me happy.......

2006-09-07T07:26:00.000-07:00

When I was young I used to make these lists of things that made me happy. Kind of lame, I know, but I always felt better after I had made the lists. So, in celebration of those early days, here is a current list from Our Woman in L.A. (in no particular order):

Los Angeles weather
The ocean (Pacific or Atlantic, I love them both)
Buy one get one free sales
The high I get after a long run
Santa Barbara Wine Country
My brother’s homemade pizza
Days without lists
One of my teens (in CAP) making a discovery that makes them think or act differently
Downward facing dog
Coffee Bean ice cubes (they are so good!)
House (the television show)
Otis (my dad and Pamela’s dog)
Family BBQ’s
The N.C. State Fair (I am going this year!!)
Teamwork
Fresh Lavender
Chris Wieland
Homemade Matzo Ball Soup
Birthday parties
Dinner with friends
Hikes in Griffith Park
Writing wishes in the sand
Bob Dylan songs
Laughing until my stomach hurts
Bowling
Planting flowers

So, what’s on your list?

It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s….a life size replica of Octopus Man!

2006-09-06T08:55:00.000-07:00

Hey Y’all. It’s still me, Our Woman in L.A. Like I said, Our Man in L.A. is taking the week off from blog writing, and he asked me to log in for the week to make sure people knew we were still alive. We are. Things are good. It’s really hot here, as September usually is, and I can’t wait for October.

So, on Labor Day, I took Chris to the California Science Center. They were having an exhibit on the science of superheroes, and Monday was the last day. He really wanted to go. Really, really wanted to go. So, we went.

Now, I’m no stranger to comics and superhero stuff. I’ve memorized the names of all the members of the Justice League. I have watched my fair share of Batman Beyond shows. I have even been to a comics convention, Wizard World. I love my husband. Clearly.

Well, on Monday, we went to see this exhibit on the science of superheroes. There was a gigantic Octopus Man (or as I am told, he’s called “Doctor Octopus”). Under the big sea creature super villain were a series of shoes with their laces untied. The exhibit asked you to tie the shoes. The catch? You had to use gigantic scissor-hands to do it. Wow, I had no idea how hard it was for Octopus Dude to tie his shoes. Maybe he should think about some penny loafers. Or Docksiders? Might help him catch his prey a bit quicker.

There was the Spider-man portion. You could test the strength of life size web lines, to show the strength all spiders have. They are strong.

One of my favorite parts was the Daredevil exhibit. This superhero is blind. Didn’t you see the movie with Ben Affleck? I had to. It was not good. But the exhibit was pretty interesting. They had you smell a bunch of different scents to determine what the smell was. I got them all right!! Plus, you had to put your hand through this tube and feel the object on the other side to determine what they were. I got all those right too! Yay!

Of course, the highlight of the day was Chris standing in line with a bunch of 8-year-old boys for the Iron Man exhibit. If you waited, you got to lift a car! That’s right, folks, lift a real, life-sized car. Just the shear excitement on my hubby’s face as he did this was worth the price of admission.

All in all, the exhibit was neat. Watching my husband’s face light up as he went from exhibit to exhibit was the best part. Superheroes may be able to lift cars, and walk on walls and fly and turn invisible. But it’s the qualities in my everyday superhero - my husband - that make me feel protected. From, you know, the forces of evil.

Tuesday Bottom One

2006-09-05T16:06:00.000-07:00

Okay, I’m back. Our Woman in L.A. is here to provide you readers with some good ol’ procrastination reading. Heck, that’s what I’m doing right now. I’ve got lists up to the ceiling, and yet, I find myself writing this.

So, instead of one big Tuesday Bottom One item, I thought I would salute a variety of recent bottom one moments. And . . . we’re off:

1. Getting your ears irrigated at the doctor’s office. Had to do this recently. I’ll spare the details. Let’s just say, yuck!
2. Buying groceries and getting home to unpack them to realize the produce you bought is all moldy. Contemplating getting back in the car to drive to the grocery store to return said moldy items, and realizing that the gas money you’ll spend getting to the store will be more than the reimbursement for the food.
3. Overheating. It’s been happening to me at night. In my sleep. Wake up in sweats. I know, it’s not good. I got it checked out, at the same appointment as the ear plunging incident. I’ll keep you posted. But if Chris says one more time, “You’re like a furnace! Move over! Don’t touch me or I’ll start sweating,” I will be sad.
4. Work drama. Yep, it exists. Hard not to when you work primarily with teens. I love them, but recently had to set up the “can’t call after 8 p.m.” rule (unless, of course, it’s an extreme emergency). It worked for a while. Until one of them got a hold of my home phone line (damn caller ID!). Loved that call at 11pm to tell me, “Hey, Steph! Just wanted to let you know I got that release form you emailed me. My dad is signing it tonight, okay?.” Yeah dude, it’s fine. It’s also 11 p.m. And I’m tired. Call me tomorrow. Oy!
5. Allergies. Yep, I have them. I am allergic to cats (and most dogs). This makes me sad, mostly because I think cats are cute. And I want to be able to play with them. But I can’t. It makes my eyes all gross and itchy and I get red hives on my face. Now I have to ask my friends to lock their animals up before I come over to hang out. Sucks.
6. Waxing. I won’t elaborate too much here. Let’s just say, Steve Carrell was not over-dramatizing it in 40 Year Old Virgin. “OOWWW! Kelly Clarkson!”
7. The recent death of Steve “Crocodile Hunter” Irwin. I loved him and his crazy animal adventure shows. He will for sure be missed.
8. The Bush Administration. Yes, that’s been a bottom one for a while now.
9. My unhealthy addiction to wasabi peas. I am working on it. Chris had an intervention recently and now we don’t keep them in the house. Your support is appreciated.
10. The song London Bridge by Fergie. Have you heard it? Okay, then I don’t need to explain. Buh!

Hemingway's No Dummy....

2006-09-04T20:19:00.000-07:00

Hey Everyone, it's Our Woman in L.A. here.

So, Our Man in L.A. decided to give me total artistic license this week. He handed over the blog to me. I guess he thought he needed a break. Wanted to give you readers something to chew on, although, I gotta say, not sure if this will really satisfy your appetite.

Hemingway once said that “good artists borrow and great artists steal.” Taking my lead from this smart man, I will begin my first ever full blog entry….stealing the famous “top five” from one of the most talented people I know - my husband. To add my own twist, I will bring you the first–ever (drum roll, please) OUR WOMAN IN L.A.’S MONDAY TOP FIVE LIST!!! (get it, instead of Tuesday, it’s Monday).

Okay, here goes:

5. Crystal Light Sugar Free On the Go Packets
So, I have been trying to drink more water lately. Six glasses a day or more. Yeah, I know, it’s good for your skin, good for your body, so I should just drink the stuff. And trust me, I try. I have been trying to drink less diet soda, trying to get my green tea in. Sigh. It’s so L.A. But it has been a struggle. That is, until I discovered the Crystal Light sugar free “On the Go” packets. These tiny little packets go straight into your water bottle and transform your water into peach tea, or raspberry lemonade, or fruit punch. Yum. Who knows, maybe these packets will kill me. Some random ingredient that causes a variety of diseases may slowly eat away at my nervous system. But, until it is proven, I am in water heaven.

4. Friendly Neighbors
I don’t think I have ever had neighbors like in the black and white television shows that would bake pies and come over to welcome you to the neighborhood. I am not really sure if that exists, since most people these days just want to be left the heck alone. However, when Chris and I moved into our apartment building, I was surprised to be greeted by a series of friendly folks. One year later, these neighbors still surprise me with their friendliness. I’ll give a few examples:
1. My neighbor Nina (about 80 years old and from eastern Europe) still knocks on my door to tell me she’s cleaned the washers and dryers, so I better wash a load quick before the other neighbors get to the machines. She also checks our mail when we are out of town. I love her.
2. Nina’s husband knocked on my door when the cable man came to install our system. When I answered the door, the conversation was as follows:
Nina’s husband: Are you okay in there?
Me: Uh, yeah. Is everything okay in the building?
NH: Oh yes. I just saw that the cable man had come in, and I know your husband is at work. Just checking in to see if everything is okay.
Me: Oh, yes. He’s just installing the cable. All’s well.
NH: Okay. Have a good day.
Then there’s Nelly. She’s in her seventies. She wakes up really early to take bread and nuts and feeds the squirrels. She’s a bit strange, but also really nice. When we moved in, she knocked on our door and brought us a brochure on cool things to do in the neighborhood.

There’s John, who’s a fan of the L.A. Sparks (the WNBA team here). He is always trying to get us to go to the games with him. We haven’t so far, busy schedules and whatnot, but are going to take him up on it in the upcoming year.

Oh, and finally, there’s James. He’s probably in his late sixties, and in good shape. He kind of reminds me of a modern day Count Dracula, except, without the teeth and whole drinking blood thing (well, as far as I know). He is always giving us tips about the building, and how to deal with our landlords. Cause, you know, he’s lived in this building for 19 years.

3. Think MTV
So, I know what you might say, MTV? Really? At your age? Come on, Steph, get a grip, and stop killing those brain cells. Well, that’s what Our Man in L.A. says every time he catches me watching the network. However, the folks over at MTV are on to something with their ThinkMTV shows. Recently, they aired a show about people under the age of 24 living with HIV/AIDS. It was amazing. A series of personal videos shot by individuals living with the disease, and pieced together to create a powerful study of what life is like as a young person in America dealing with HIV, the stereotypes, and the challenges. ThinkMTV is geared to create awareness about important issues like AIDS and the environment and poverty and violence. I think it is a wonderful way to inform youth in America. Gotta do whatever it takes to get people aware and concerned and then active. Kudos MTV. Maybe y’all could spend more money making those types of shows. I think we’d be cool with a few less dating shows or reality shows about wealthy socialites.

2. City at Peace CD Release (Shameless Plug!!)
So, as many of you know, I have made a career shift recently. I am now the Artistic Director of City at Peace Los Angeles, a non-profit organization that uses the performing arts with a diverse group of teens to teach the principles and skills of cross-cultural understanding, non-violent conflict resolution, and leadership. During the program, participating teens create an original musical based on their lives and their ideas for transforming the city in which they live into a city at peace. Then, through advocacy projects, the teens act on their vision to make it a reality. City at Peace has programs across the United States, as well as in South Africa and in Israel. I really believe in this organization and I am incredibly proud to be leading the program in L.A.
Recently, the organization released a CD, and I think it ROCKS! The CD was recorded at Sony in NYC this past year with teens from CAP programs from across the country. The songs come straight from their lives and experiences. You can order the CD and listen to pieces of it at www.cpnational.org. Don’t hesitate—order one - you’ll love it.

1. Days Without Lists
Okay, so this one is short and sweet. I recently had the thought that heaven is a place with no “to do” lists. I also made the discovery that rare is the day when I don’t make one. They can vary in length and in task. They have been known to be color-coded. If you have had had the pleasure of seeing one of mine, you would be impressed. But, enough is enough. Last weekend, I dared to go where I have rarely gone before - a day without a “to do” list. Wow. It was liberating! I woke up and Chris said, “What do you want to do today”? “Hmm”, I thought. “Let’s just see where the weekend takes us”. It was so wonderful. The weekend included a run, yoga, a wonderful bottle of wine, and some good old television watching. The good life!

Okay, please stay tuned for more Our Woman in L.A. entries this week. Tomorrow, maybe I’ll even consider a Weekly Bottom One. Oh, and feel free to make suggestions. I am not above feedback. Just no throwing cyberspace peanuts at me. Please.

I know one guy who's not going to earn that Buckeye!

2006-08-09T14:06:00.000-07:00

It's been a pretty good week here in LA, all things considered. Work's fine. The heat wave's over. Caught a rerun of HOUSE that I hadn't seen before last night. Even finished up an outline for a new script I'd been mulling over.

So honestly, I didn't have a lot on the shelf for today's Wednesday Bottom One.

Thank God for Maurice Clarett.

Clarett, a (cough) repeat offender (cough) on the Wednesday Bottom One, showed up in the news today after being arrested again by Columbus area police officers, and after generally making an ass out of himself. Even though Mo has pretty much been making an ass of himself since the end of Ohio State's national championship run in 2002, last night's melee with the police took the cake.

Why, you might ask?

Consider the following criteria:

1) Mo forced police to use Mace to control him, after a stun gun did nothing to deter him from freaking out.

2) Mo first attracted police attention when he made an illegal U-turn somewhere in downtown Columbus. He then led a multitude of police on a high speed chase onto I-70, perhaps hoping to escape to Our Man in LA's hometown of Dayton.

3) When caught, Mo's car was found to contain an assault rifle, three other handguns, and a half empty bottle of Vodka.

Or was it half full?

Nope. For Mo, right now, I'd say things are looking mostly empty.

Anyway, you can read about this more at the site below:

http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2006/football/more/08/09/clarett.ap/index.html

Now look, folks, as a fan of both Ohio State and the Cincinnati Bengals, I've long ago learned to keep my mouth shut whenever a figure in the world of sports finds himself or herself under the thumb of the law. But seriously, Mo Clarett has to be on track for some kind of record for speedy marginalization. He's gone from Sports Illustrated coverboy to ludicrous felon in less time than it would have taken him to take a few classes and earn degree.

Man, if there aren't a few jokes in that last statement.

Because I'm a completist - and because I had to run an errand this morning - I turned on the sports radio to listen to what folks had to say about Mo. Imagine my lack of surprise when a slew of Michigan and Miami (FL) fans called in and asked where Ohio State coach Jim Tressel was to support Mo in his time of criminal need.

Uh, dude. The guy had an assault rifle, three handguns, and a bottle of Vodka. I imagine Tressel was home with the door locked.

For that matter, hopefully everyone in Columbus was at home with the doors locked. Mo was on the loose.

Ah, Mo. Always good for a laugh. By the way, old Mo is already under indictment for two counts of aggravated robbery. How do you think this will affect his case? Will it help? No? It won't help? Not a little? No?

Sheesh.

Here's Mo's legal counsel on the matter: "I'm shocked as everyone else is about the allegation. Obviously, he's a young man with a lot of weight on his shoulders."

Sounds like he's describing Clarrett's first week in prison. Hello! I'll be here all week, folks. Try the veal.

See you tomorrow.

How to combat the dog days of summer? Just a Tuesday TOP FIVE worth of answers

2006-08-08T16:07:00.000-07:00

Howdy, folks.

The end of summer is almost here. People are taking that last vacation, jonesing for that final three-day weekend, and bracing themselves for the autumn work season to begin. Crazy times. So what better way to fight those prototypical dog days than by taking solace in just a few of the freshly baked items in this week’s Tuesday Top Five?

Check it out . . .

5) The Dodgers grabbed Greg Maddux! Sorry, Cubs fans. But here in the Southland, there hadn’t been much to crow about in the world of baseball this season. The Angels had been down, without a Rally Monkey in sight. And the Dodgers? A fair to middling team in a generally poor division.

Until now. The Dodgers picked up the 40-something Maddux from the woeful Cubs, and a lot of us out here were thinking, “Fantastic. Just what every player wants. To go from a terrible team to a mediocre one.” Not so anymore. Since picking up the veteran (and doing some other, post-All-Star tinkering), the Dodgers actually have a shot at the playoffs again. They’re just a game and a half out of first in the West, and tied now with my beloved Cincinnati Reds for the Wild Card spot.

Oh, the inhumanity. Having my childhood favorites vie with my new hometown squad for the Wild Card. Oh wait, that means I could win either way? Or if the Padres slipped up, and the Dodgers took first in the west, I could have both teams?

Happy, satisfied sigh.

4) The Farmer’s Market at the Grove. I love this LA landmark, but I’ve never brought it up in this blog before. Still, I’m not sure there’s a better place to gather in all the Southland. When Our Woman in LA and I have people in town, we generally go there. This weekend, when a few of our old pals from Chicago were around, we met up with a whole contingent of Northwestern alums and the like at the market.

The Market itself is a little of what you’d expect – fresh fruits and veggies for sale, alongside homemade crafts and candies, and a pretty decent selection of small, inexpensive restaurants and bars in a covered but outdoor setting. It’s one of the great people-watching places in LA, and you feel totally removed from city life. Except that you’re at the corner of Fairfax and Third.

The Market’s been there forever. But a few years ago, the story goes, a developer wanted to put up his high-end mall on the property. His plan was to tear down the food and fruit stands, the cool inexpensive bars, and put up a Nordstrom, mega-movie theater, and the kinds of expensive restaurants and haberdashers that the tourists seem to dig.

Not so. LA got up and protested the move. The Market was worth keeping, Angelenos said. So the developer found a way to incorporate the Market into his mall, which is called the Grove.

Worked like a charm. Plenty of people (including me) who would never set foot in the Grove love the Farmer’s Market. So the tourists stayed happy, the locals stayed happy, and I was able to continue shopping at the Glendale Galleria and still getting hummus from Moishe’s in the southeast corner of the Market.

Ain’t it grand when everyone wins?

3) The NFL Hall of Fame Weekend. Over the weekend, the National Football League inducted several deserving former players and coaches (including John Madden, Troy Aikman, and Warren Moon) into its Hall of Fame and played its first exhibition game – between the Raiders and Eagles. To which I say:

Finally.

Finally, I can start talking football without everybody looking at me like I’m a crazy person. Or some kind of obsessed clown. Nope. Now with the preseason beginning, the football talk can begin in earnest. And when I say in earnest, I mean that it can go nuts.

The “What if” scenarios can begin. Like this one, my new favorite (borrowed from Fox Sports’ NFL Czar). This scenario is predicated on the idea that the biggest mistake the NFL has made in the last 20 years was its 1993 expansion, which yielded the Carolina Panthers and the Jacksonville Jaguars.

Now before everyone starts crowing at me about how I’m being unfair to middle America again, just hear me out. There’s a method to my madness.

See, flash forward 13 years to today. Jacksonville’s got a good team, but a market that can barely support them. No major corporate sponsors to speak of. Problems filling the place up. Carolina’s doing great. They draw from the whole state. The corporations are there, the fans are there, and so on.

But look around the league. No team in Los Angeles, much to the happiness of transplants like me who can see the best game of the week every Sunday – but much to the consternation of NFL execs who feel like they’re losing big money in the nation’s second biggest market. Not to mention the fact that every time an NFL owner doesn’t get the stadium he wants, the luxury boxes he wants, or the sandwich he wants for lunch, he threatens to move to LA.

Then you’ve got that precarious situation in New Orleans, which might not be able to still support the Saints, but the potential PR nightmare of moving them.

So, hindsight being 20-20, this is what they should have done back then.

St. Louis and Baltimore, two proven NFL cities that now have teams plundered from other markets, were among the candidates for new franchises in 1993. The NFL liked the new markets in Carolina and Jacksonville, and maybe the Baltimore and St. Louis deals didn’t look as good.

It shouldn’t have mattered. The NFL should have thought long-term. So imagine this. Boom! Now, in 1993, they create the Baltimore Ravens and the St. Louis, uh, Kings. There you go.

Why would this have changed anything? Consider:

• With Baltimore back in the league, the Cleveland Browns don’t move to Chesapeake Bay. No bad blood for the league, and the Dawg Pound maybe even gets a Super Bowl.
• With St. Louis back in the league, where are the LA Rams going to go? Seriously.

And you have an NFL with 30 happy teams, more or less. OK, so maybe a couple of years later, the Raiders move back to Oakland. No problem. At least the LA market is secure.

Maybe a year after that, the Houston Oilers still move to Tennessee and become the Titans, leaving the nation’s 4th largest market uncovered.

OK, yeah, that’s sort of a problem. So you expand again – just like the NFL did anyway. So the Houston Texans come back in the league. And you have room for one more spot.

Who gets it? Carolina does. It’s a region that’s otherwise uncovered by the league, and that has a lot of business and people. So the Panthers return, but you haven’t lost a step otherwise.

So now you have a league that covers all the major markets and a lot of the significant small ones. Teams can whine and moan about their stadium or their fan base, but the chances of them going to another city are slim. Sure, you might be able to make an argument that San Antonio’s got a bigger upside than post-Katrina New Orleans, but you wouldn’t have to, either. Who’s missing, honestly?

2) LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE. Our Woman in LA and I caught this movie over the weekend, and we found it to be a total gem. Just a great film. Terrific performances by Greg Kinnear, Toni Collette and the kids, but special mention to a very understated Steve Carrell and an amazingly funny, over-the-top and occasionally touching performance by Alan Arkin.

I expected the movie to be a lot of fun. It was. But more than that, it’s inspiring and speaks to any and all of us who have ever struggled with our ambitions, our work, or our sense of who we are and who we want to be. Totally recommended. I’d say more, but I’m afraid I’d spoil the jokes.

1) Marv Wolfman back writing NIGHTWING for DC Comics. I’ve been a comics fan since before I could read, and without question or hesitation, I can honestly say since his first appearance in this identity (in 1984), my favorite character has been Nightwing. I’m pretty sure I own his every appearance in comics, and I never missed an issue of the character’s fight for truth and justice in the pages of TEEN TITANS or his solo title.

For the uninitiated, Nightwing is secretly Dick Grayson, adopted son of Bruce Wayne, aka Batman, and the first of several young men to serve as Batman’s partner, Robin. Over the years, the first Robin grew up – going through high school and college by day, while fighting the forces of evil by night. He eventually got tired of being a sidekick, even to one of the world’s greatest super-heroes, and so he struck out on his own. He took on his own identity, led his own super hero team, and eventually found a life outside Gotham City.

The creation of this new identity happened in 1984, in the TEEN TITANS comic book (actually NEW TEEN TITANS, but you get the picture), written by comics veteran Marv Wolfman. Marv, who had also served as editor of Marvel Comics at one time, was one of the hottest comics writers of the 80s, and the story that built Dick Grayson from Robin to Nightwing was one of his most critically lauded tales (right up there with CRISIS ON INFINITE EARTHS, which completely relaunched DC Comics and killed off Supergirl and Flash . . . for a time).

By the way, you can read that first Nightwing story – THE JUDAS CONTRACT – in trade paperback these days. It’s on Amazon and at your favorite comics store.

Anyway, for the last 10 or so years, Nightwing’s had his own solo comic from DC. The first 50-some issues, all written by Chuck Dixon, were pretty terrific. The former Robin traveled to Gotham’s uglier, more crime-ridden sister city to clean up crime. He got a new rogue’s gallery, a new supporting cast, and a series of great stories.

It’s kind of been down hill since then. Promising writers Devin Grayson and Bruce Jones have delivered seriously substandard stories, and they’ve helped to push the Nightwing character into a place where he feels more generic and uninteresting. Although the character had once occupied an A-list position in the DC Universe, and had been considered sort of Batman with a sense of humor, now he was just another do-gooder in tights.

That’s why I’m so excited to have Marv on his way back. This is the guy who created the modern Dick Grayson – both in his Robin identity and Nightwing role. The character flourished under Marv in the 80s and early 90s. That version of the character was the kind of guy you wanted to read about – a leader of men who was highly competent and driven, but who had a sense of humor and the ability to unclench in the company of friends.

Can’t wait to see that guy again. Welcome back, Marv.