Tequila sunrise: also a cocktail...

Failure is simply the non-presence of success. But a fiasco is a disaster of mythic proportions.
Orlando Bloom (can we quote Orlando Bloom?  Really? It seems so wrong...)

There are many things we should talk about today, but let's start with this:

Yes, that is my car, wedged, if you will, onto a picket fence and a thick piece of concrete.

After Jill and I decided that attempting to lift the car up and off the concrete was not an option available to us and our meagre muscle mass, we reined in our efforts, copped a squat on the fender and slugged a Miller Lite whilst awaiting rescue from an agency I am becoming all too familiar with, the 'Triple A'.

Once the nice man from the Automobile Club had wedged a piece of wood under the wheels and jacked up Montgomery (that would be the car then), we were good to go.  Where?  A mere block and a half round the corner for some much needed recovery cigarettes and alcohol.  Which would have been all very nice, had I not at that moment decided to be fastidious about securing the soft-top, and because in my automotive world we are far from central locking, manually locked the driver's door from the inside before slamming it shut.  So far so good, except for one crucial error, the keys were still in the ignition.  Yes, you read right.  Mere moments after being hauled off a picket fence we were 'phoning the same guy to come and professionally break into my car.  By this point we were also watching the sun rise, which is a first for me in LA, so, that's a plus.  The same dude came back again and looked at us with disbelief and a strong shade of pity at our unimaginable idiocy.  I would have too.  It was beyond dumb...

Other shit of note are the following:

Check out the Berkeley, yes, SOY cheese.  Offensive on so many levels but let's just say please contain yourselves to the Bay Area and for the love of god never EVER go to France or Italy.  We do not want you.

Clearly we opted for the full fat, animal produced variety.  Look away now vegetarians, there is sausage...

Definitely a go big or get the fuck out moment. 

And so we get to this morning, when I decided to treat myself to some much needed hangover food from Whole Foods in the form of a good curry.  Take my advice, never go to Whole Foods on a Sunday morning wearing the same clothes you just slept in.  At 10am people are already returning from their morning yoga sessions and it just adds to the creeping guilty sensation that whilst you were weeping with laughter at 7am their were clenching their sphincters in downward dog.  It's the same as going to church right after you just had sex, only without the forgiveness...

Alex and Liam do Walmart or the British fascination with liquid cheese

Lucus Magnus posted this on his facebook page and I have shamefully purloined his link in order to bring you what is ostensibly a recreation of an outing the Future Director and I had whilst on a cultural foray into the wilds of the Joshua Tree National Park in May. 

You see, I had never been in a Wal-Mart either and shockingly, I have to say that I was 200 greenbacks lighter once we had passed through the till.  How exactly remains somewhat a mystery but the following items were purchased and have had varied degrees of utility / success:

- a portable coolbox on wheels so big that it does not fit in the back of my two-seater sportscar...
- a selection of CDs for five dollars that included:  The Best of Alabama 3; and an Eighties compilation that I believe is called something like Awesome!  Eighties... (the fact that it's not just to hand to verify the title says all you need to know)

Still, at least we avoided the liquid cheese...

An Evening at the Hollywood Bowl

Even I, consummate cynic, was sucked into the sheer wonderfulness of the Hollywood Bowl.  Chalk this one up to Things America Does Well. 

Welcome to America, go big or get the fuck out (sponsored by Universal Studios...)

Oh, and in case you were wondering, here are the vegetables.  They are plastic...

It's Harry FREAKING Potter!

As seen at 12.01am at Universal Studios.  Didn't I tell you Angelenos communicate everything via their cars?

Carmaggedon - it's only a road...

We have already discussed how within mere days of arriving in LA I had gone from metro-map nerd to traffic-obsessed woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown.  Now, they are really trying to test me:  from 15-17 July someone (who remains nameless and no doubt is trying to keep things this way) has decided to close the 405.  To anyone living outside of the Greater Los Angeles area, this statement probably requires indifference, at best, feigned interest.  From an Angeleno you'll get 50% foaming at the mouth, 70% dumb horror and 100% the world is going to end.  Why?  Because the 405, dear outside-worlders, is LA's artery, and without it LIFE CANNOT GO ON.  It will be, as they say, 'Carmaggedon'.

To understand the sheer scale of terror that this road closure is having on LA society at large, you have to understand that most people in LA spend the majority of their time in a car, or talking about avoiding traffic when they eventually have to travel.  Cars are like personal ads on wheels, so if you have been to university, we'll know about it because there will be a plaque telling us so round your number plate.  Take this guy, for example:

Now we know that he is into Daleks AND British we can give him a wide berth.

My real question is why people don't put anything interesting on these things (Daleks aside...).  I mean, if you had 9-inch cock, ACTUAL film producer, or RICH AND DUMB, around your plates you might actually see some action in this town.  At least as you are accidentally on purpose rear-ended by a 1993 black Mazda Miata...

Anyway, BE WARNED, they are closing a road, and if you don't believe me re the consequences, watch one of these instead:

Just as an aside, UrbanDaddy was today promoting a romantic helicopter ride with champagne just so you and your loved one could see what the 405 looks like with no cars on it as you fly over.  Presumably this is a useful option for one of the dates in the Sex Rules on which you don't want to get laid...

Mad Dogs and Englishmen

I'm not sure at which point while stuck in traffic hell on the 60 (it could have been anywhere from Los Angeles to Riverside - 75 miles, that's a long ass traffic jam) I realised that there was no joy to having the roof down.  Yes, owning a convertible is nice whilst gunning up the PCH to Malibu, but in gridlock, negative. 

Of course, desert pioneers that we are, neither of us brought water on the basis that it would heat up in the car, and after all, America is a country that surely has refrigerated beverages at every turn.  This is fine, unless you have opted to place yourself in the car pool lane, in which case you have a choice between death by dehydration and death by jack-knifing yourself under any of the five lanes of trucks that are between you and the off-ramp.  Desert Queen?  Desert Idiot more like. 

Then there's the issue of taking a two-wheel drive four cylinder Mazda on an off road unpaved trail through the desert to the Trailer Park Palace.  Of which more later, because I really must go and find some air-conditioning...

"There, I guess King George will be able to read that."

John Hancock - On signing the American Declaration of Independence.