Don’t look. I dare you.
Don’t look. I dare you.
Yeah, I live in Los Angeles. And yeah, there’s tons of movie stars that live here too. And here’s the thing about famous people: they need to go grocery shopping just like the rest of us; fill their cars with gas; take their kids to school; eat at restaurants. All the normal stuff that us normal people do. And when you live here in LALA land, chances are, if you have a good eye, you’re likely to encounter a famous person or two doing these mundane things.
But the thing is, I don’t have a good eye. I swear to you I sat next to Charlton Heston at some school function a while back and didn’t have a clue. Chuck had to tell me. (Although there was the Keanu Reeves incident, and I immediately recognized him.) But typically I am oblivious to celebs.
My husband, on the other hand, is some kind of savant when it comes to recognizing famous people. We’ll be out somewhere and he’ll surreptitiously point at someone and inform me that that guy was the third from the left in the Colesium scene in Gladiator. Chuck will likely even know this person’s name and their entire filmography.
But in spite of my celeb-obliviousness, I’ve decided to start a new feature over there on the right: Star Sightings!, in honor of two star sightings that we had today. Sighting #1 was Harry Hamlin. We encountered him at the Studio City farmer’s market this morning. More accurately, Chuck spotted him and pointed him out to me. Damn, he was gruffy but cute.
But it’s the other star sighting that is so comical. Ron Jeremy. The thing that’s so comical, beyond the fact that it was Ron Jeremy, is the fact that I actually recognized him. I was at the supermarket and there he was.
So yeah, I sit next to Charlton Heston for like two hours and am clueless, but walk past Ron Jeremy at Gelson’s and immediately know who he is.
Is there a web frontier we haven’t crossed?????
I am the proud owner of a g-mail account. I have been once since the early days when our man in Israel sent me an invite. (Rumor has it, it’s no longer invitation only, but I couldn’t swear to it).
Anyway, periodically on my g-mail page there is a notice of “New Features”. And since I’m all about new and exciting I click to see what sort of technology I can now have at my fingertips.
The latest addition is the G00gle tool bar. This handy dandy tool bar has some groovy things, but by far the grooviest of them all is the spell checker. This spell checker is so fabulous that it allows you to spell check any screen you have open. Leaving a comment in someones blog? You can spell check it. How fabulous is that? But the thing that is most fabulous about it is that I can now spell check my blog entries.
I know that WordPress has some sort of plug in that does this for you, but hell if I can figure it out. So often my entries go up with typos. And I hate typos. If I’m writing a really long entry I’ll often write it in Word and spell check there and copy it over to here, but what a pain in the ass that is.
Now, with the fabulous new spell check feature of my G00gle tool bar that’s no longer necessary. Does it get any better?
I am a coffee drinker. But I am a very particular coffee drinker. I buy only Sulawesi whole beans. My preferred method of preparation is a single cup drip (though I own a very groovy stainless steel Krups pot with all kinds of bells and whistles, and a few French presses).
Each morning I fill my enormous travel cup with freshly brewed coffee and it goes with me to work. That is my coffee for the day. End of story. I do not drink the coffee provided at the office. I do not stop anywhere on the way to anywhere else to buy an overpriced cup of coffee.
I purchase my beans as Starbucks, but only because they’re the only place that carries them. If I could find them elsewhere locally, I would gladly no longer patronize the Evil Empire.
I know there are at least one or two of you that cringe at my characterization of Starbucks as the EE, but it’s true. You know the old joke, they’re opening a new Starbucks inside a Starbucks. Damn, that place is insidious. When I worked downtown, there were no fewer that eight Starbucks within a five minute walk of my desk (and that includes the elevator ride down). But insidiousness aside, I think the real cause of my distaste is grounded in my inability to order coffee there.
In the mornings, I would walk past the Starbucks in the lobby of my building. It was not uncommon to see a line of at least 25 people waiting to order. Each would sashay up to the barrista (and what is that all about? they’re freakin coffee jockeys) and smoothly order their drink: a venti half-caf soy carmel macchiato with a squirt (?!), a double grande chai frappuccino with whip, and so on. I don’t have a clue what those things even are.
All I would want is a freakin small cup of coffee, maybe a low-fat latte if I was feeling adventurous, but I could never figure out what I was supposed to say to get it.
So yeah, I stay away from Starbucks, except when I have to venture in to buy my coffee beans. And for that I’ve memorized what I need to say, but it’s not rocket science to get a pound (or two) of Sulawesi beans, not ground please.
Anyway…yesterday morning, after a bit of a rough start which included dropping Zoe at school and then coming back home again to get her lunch to bring it to her at school, I found myself feeling peckish as I drove in to work. The longer I drove, the hungrier I got. I knew I would have to find something to eat on my way in. But as I’d already had an unplanned extra round trip from home to school, I did not really have any kind of extra time.
Well, about a block from where I get off the freeway for work there is a drive-through Starbucks. Get your very own venti mocha cappuccino without even having to park your car. I’m sure for many this as close to heaven on earth as it gets.
And since the clock was ticking and I was getting later and later for work, and hungrier and hungrier, I decided I’d try the Starbucks drive-through. I could get some kind of yummy muffin or something. Easy left turn in the parking lot. The drive through lane is very well marked. I pulled up and asked what kind of muffins they had. The choice was a little limited (it was 9:30 by now and I’m guessing the bulk of their morning business is a bit earlier than this), but they had a blueberry muffin. Perfect. I’ll take one. And since my drive was longer than expected, I noticed my go-cup was dangerously low and there would likely not be enough coffee to accompany my muffin. I was going to have to brave a coffee order. I knew this was going too well. Gritting my teeth, I nervously order a small lowfat latte and cross my fingers (I just don’t get that venti/grande/whatever thing…I think in very basic terms: small, medium, and large). I hoped I hadn’t screwed it up too badly and that everyone inside the store was laughing: ha ha ha, she doesn’t know how to order.
Well, I pulled up to the window. I paid the $400 that a small coffee and muffin costs at Starbucks. And a very lovely little girl handed me a cup of coffee and a bag with a muffin in it.
I once again followed the well marked lane. Easy right turn out. Smooth sailing to change lanes to turn left at the corner. Angel music came out of my car radio. Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
I may have to get a Starbucks dictionary and study up, because I’m telling you, it could not have been easier. And damn that muffin was delicious.
It doesn’t feel like it was so very long ago that we packed Zoe off for her first day of kindergarten.
Tomorrow, she starts the 5th grade. Wow.
Over dinner tonight:
Zoe: Momma, what’s the worst hurricane there has ever been?
Me: I don’t know.
Zoe: Hurricane Bush.