Not that you (Mom, I know you prefer the Cirque Du Soleil soundtrack) care, but I really love music and recently saw two bands I am quickly becoming obsessed with. The other night I went to the Troubadour (okay, I know it's not in Silverlake but it is a GREAT venue: all musty and dark and you can get so close to the stage) and saw The Head and the Heart. Their music is kind of country-ish folk-rock and although I do not consider myself very "folksy," I really, really enjoy country and rock. The lead singer is just very raspy and beautiful and I want to BE the blond girl in the band with the big lips and SICK voice. Here is their video for "Lost in my Mind," the song that I am playing on repeat while I blog all day:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xjoA4nYBD5U
Also, at Coachella (yup, it was my fifth year, no big deal), I discovered this band a lot of you might already know about called The Felice Brothers. One of the guys in the band plays an ACCORDION, which basically blew my mind. They're kind of like a calmer Trampled by Turtles meets a harder-edged Avett Brothers (I ADORE The Avett Brothers). The lead singer is this kind of bad-ass skinny dude (when he sings "Remote Song" he just mimes changing the channel on the audience the entire time) and they have this very raw, grounded sound. I have been showering to "Frankie's Gun" for two weeks:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rH9x4S3-wVY&feature=related
Anyway, happy Friday!
Friday, April 29, 2011
Stranger in My Apartment Building...
You might think this looks like a totally normal workout outfit:
I know, I am getting so good with my berry camera (also, how nice is the wood floor of my apartment?). This is NOT, however, what sexy people in Silverlake wear. Also, I am not one of those chicks who looks sleek and sporty in exercise gear; I look sloppy and confused. As an unemployed writer, I am in this outfit A LOT. Sometimes I forget that a lot of people in my apartment building are musicians/furniture makers (loud ones)/painters/people who do not work normal hours and are therefore meandering about the premises during the day. In particular, there are certain attractive gentlemen that seem to be skilled in catching me when I look my absolute WORST.
There is King of Leon with Two Small Dogs; I call him this because...he looks like the Kings' lead singer Caleb Followill (when he still had long hair) and has tattoos all over his arms (cool ones not gross ones) and wears tank tops to show them off and has two really nasty, barky small dogs (which I don't think are allowed in the building but whatever). Leon takes his dogs out to poop whenever I am coming back from a run, even though I run at all different times; he has never once said hi to me or even looked at me in the face and you know what? I do not blame him for a second. There are also two thin Bob Dylan-y dudes who are either in a band together or best friends or roommates or lovers or some combination of those previously mentioned words who dress like they're in The Assassination of Jesse James and are SO NICE but again, every time I see them I am like picking gum off my foot in the entrance in my Juicy Couture sweatpants from 2003. When they talk to me it's kind of like I am a stray like, "Are you lost?" No, I am not lost; I LIVE HERE. Sometimes I wear VERY cute outfits like this one:
But do any of the hot people in my building see me dressed like this? NO! Even my very nice landlady with the wild red hair saw me in unzipped (I was typing; it's more relaxing) jorts (jean shorts, Mom) and a Brown t-shirt (nope, I did not go there) with no bra on (not in an erotic way, I promise) when she came to tell me my rent was going to be ten dollars more next month (don't ask). Anyway, I just wanted to explain to you (Mom) how frustrating my life is sometimes.
I know, I am getting so good with my berry camera (also, how nice is the wood floor of my apartment?). This is NOT, however, what sexy people in Silverlake wear. Also, I am not one of those chicks who looks sleek and sporty in exercise gear; I look sloppy and confused. As an unemployed writer, I am in this outfit A LOT. Sometimes I forget that a lot of people in my apartment building are musicians/furniture makers (loud ones)/painters/people who do not work normal hours and are therefore meandering about the premises during the day. In particular, there are certain attractive gentlemen that seem to be skilled in catching me when I look my absolute WORST.
There is King of Leon with Two Small Dogs; I call him this because...he looks like the Kings' lead singer Caleb Followill (when he still had long hair) and has tattoos all over his arms (cool ones not gross ones) and wears tank tops to show them off and has two really nasty, barky small dogs (which I don't think are allowed in the building but whatever). Leon takes his dogs out to poop whenever I am coming back from a run, even though I run at all different times; he has never once said hi to me or even looked at me in the face and you know what? I do not blame him for a second. There are also two thin Bob Dylan-y dudes who are either in a band together or best friends or roommates or lovers or some combination of those previously mentioned words who dress like they're in The Assassination of Jesse James and are SO NICE but again, every time I see them I am like picking gum off my foot in the entrance in my Juicy Couture sweatpants from 2003. When they talk to me it's kind of like I am a stray like, "Are you lost?" No, I am not lost; I LIVE HERE. Sometimes I wear VERY cute outfits like this one:
But do any of the hot people in my building see me dressed like this? NO! Even my very nice landlady with the wild red hair saw me in unzipped (I was typing; it's more relaxing) jorts (jean shorts, Mom) and a Brown t-shirt (nope, I did not go there) with no bra on (not in an erotic way, I promise) when she came to tell me my rent was going to be ten dollars more next month (don't ask). Anyway, I just wanted to explain to you (Mom) how frustrating my life is sometimes.
7 Mares...1 GREAT Taco
One of the best things about living in Los Angeles is tacos. That sentence doesn't really sound correct, but it's probably the truest thing I've ever typed. Proximity to Mexico plus the large Mexican population in Los Angeles proper equals a million Mexican restaurants and taco trucks to choose from around town. I think I've tried about 500,000 of them and I have to say, I am pretty easy when it comes to Mexican (I know, that's what she said) so I've enjoyed most of them. I mentioned in a previous post my intense affection for the Silverlake taco truck and its pickled cucumbers (although it is not called the Silverlake taco truck and I have no idea where exactly it is in Silverlake; it just kind of APPEARS to me like a genie/wizard after I've had a cocktail or ten) and I could probably do an entire post about my love/hate relationship with Malo (love the salsas and dollar taco Mondays/hate the occasional smell of poop that wafts over from somewhere mysterious that is not the bathroom). However, up until two weeks ago, I hadn't tried the taco stand that is literally across the street from my apartment building: 7 Mares.
I asked my friend Anthony to go with me. So remember how I said Noelia Estrada was my cool, hip Eastside friend? Well Anthony Polcino is her boyfriend (Is it not right to say boyfriend? Her man? Main squeeze? Partner? Gentleman caller?). Together, Ant and Noey (they're my friends, I can use pet names) are an explosion of awesomeness, but what keeps me from getting completely overwhelmed and panicky around them is how damn NICE they both are. Anthony is a musician (again I could do an an entire post about his album, but you should just check out his solo project Soft Pipes at http://softpipesmusic.com/) and aside from being almost sickeningly talented, he always looks like a million bucks (he can pull off tight red pants, just saying), and is one of the best conversationalists I have ever met. Ant also loves root beer as much as I do and discovered the most TASTY kind, sold at Trader Joe's and made with natural cane sugar:
Thanks Ant!
So 7 Mares is a legit restaurant with its own parking lot and everything and then NEXT to it is the taco stand, which kind of looks like an outdoor diner:
Cute, right? That's an old picture because now they have these little vinyl booths (I know, I should've taken a picture with my IPHONE which I don't have, BLAH BLAH), but you get the idea. Also, bring your hip sunglasses because the awning doesn't really cover some of the tables (but in a nice, get-a-tan way). So Anthony and I make our way to the little window to order and above it we see THIS:
That man is a stranger and I am sorry I have used his image without asking him. That "Help Wanted" sign is real if you're looking for work. Now let's be honest, that sign is fucking daunting. Like what the HELL is popular? What do you get? Ant immediately looked stricken, as it appeared they only had fish tacos, which he does not enjoy. Then I noticed the $4.99 special. 4 tacos, plus a drink of your choice (they mean like, soda; I don't think they have booze outside) for five bucks seemed like a pretty good deal. The lady behind the counter let me know that they do, in fact, have beef and chicken tacos, and she recommended beef and so I got 4 beef tacos with everything on them (I had no idea what "everything" entailed) and a diet coke (because I am obviously very healthy). I think Ant got 2 beef and 2 chicken tacos, which is smarter because if you're going to blog about a restaurant, you should try more than one thing on the menu.
I have to take a mini time-out to tell you I went back to 7 Mares on Tuesday with my friend Daniel Sweren-Becker who asked me to please not mention his name in my blog. You're welcome Daniel. Daniel tried to order 2 fish tacos and 2 beef tacos and the lady told him you can't get fish in the $4.99 special, so he just got 2 fish tacos and 2 beef tacos a la carte, with no drink. The fish tacos were HUGE and like, succulent looking and his whole meal cost only $4.25 and he got a free cup of water to drink. So, I am rethinking this $4.99 deal. Then Daniel told me my blog needed more pictures, but refused to let me take a picture of HIM. Then we walked to get gelato from Pazzo (GO EVERYONE, GO) and he made me stop at Undefeated (a very cool sneaker store) to look at "shoekers," which are sneakers that look like fancy shoes. He hated all of my shoe-picks (I am SORRY I enjoy a man in Converse). I am making Daniel sound like a precious, snarky recluse, but really he is a hilarious, kind TV writer from New York and we had a delightful time and I am just letting you know he turned me onto the fish tacos at 7 Mares.
But all of the tacos AT 7 Mares are fucking delicious. You get a number at the counter and then it takes them about 5 minutes to prepare your food; they are fast. The "everything" that 7 Mares puts on their tacos is this like dark, slightly spicy sauce and some onions and cilantro; simple, but lets the flavor of the meat shine and the tacos themselves have that hearty, thick texture that I love. I wolfed down two and then had to take a break. Then, after some diet coke, I stuffed a third taco into my face. I would've taken down the fourth, but it was hot and I was lunching with a dude who I knew could handle another taco, so I let Ant have it. I was really proud that I had taken Ant somewhere he hadn't been to yet and he liked it. Then we sat there for another hour chatting and laughing without a care in the world (okay I am very neurotic and ALWAYS obsessing about something, so I constantly have cares in the world, but it was still really fun).
Oh, sometimes your plate of tacos comes with a giant pepper. Daniel suggested I take a picture of this pepper:
Okay, actually Daniel took a picture of me with the pepper, but no one needs to see that. I am pretty sure I had the "everything" sauce on my face. But guys, this really is a great, cheap place to eat in Silverlake. It's also not ALL slender graphic designers in Ray Bans, but a mix of everyone in the area and I really like that.
I asked my friend Anthony to go with me. So remember how I said Noelia Estrada was my cool, hip Eastside friend? Well Anthony Polcino is her boyfriend (Is it not right to say boyfriend? Her man? Main squeeze? Partner? Gentleman caller?). Together, Ant and Noey (they're my friends, I can use pet names) are an explosion of awesomeness, but what keeps me from getting completely overwhelmed and panicky around them is how damn NICE they both are. Anthony is a musician (again I could do an an entire post about his album, but you should just check out his solo project Soft Pipes at http://softpipesmusic.com/) and aside from being almost sickeningly talented, he always looks like a million bucks (he can pull off tight red pants, just saying), and is one of the best conversationalists I have ever met. Ant also loves root beer as much as I do and discovered the most TASTY kind, sold at Trader Joe's and made with natural cane sugar:
Thanks Ant!
So 7 Mares is a legit restaurant with its own parking lot and everything and then NEXT to it is the taco stand, which kind of looks like an outdoor diner:
Cute, right? That's an old picture because now they have these little vinyl booths (I know, I should've taken a picture with my IPHONE which I don't have, BLAH BLAH), but you get the idea. Also, bring your hip sunglasses because the awning doesn't really cover some of the tables (but in a nice, get-a-tan way). So Anthony and I make our way to the little window to order and above it we see THIS:
That man is a stranger and I am sorry I have used his image without asking him. That "Help Wanted" sign is real if you're looking for work. Now let's be honest, that sign is fucking daunting. Like what the HELL is popular? What do you get? Ant immediately looked stricken, as it appeared they only had fish tacos, which he does not enjoy. Then I noticed the $4.99 special. 4 tacos, plus a drink of your choice (they mean like, soda; I don't think they have booze outside) for five bucks seemed like a pretty good deal. The lady behind the counter let me know that they do, in fact, have beef and chicken tacos, and she recommended beef and so I got 4 beef tacos with everything on them (I had no idea what "everything" entailed) and a diet coke (because I am obviously very healthy). I think Ant got 2 beef and 2 chicken tacos, which is smarter because if you're going to blog about a restaurant, you should try more than one thing on the menu.
I have to take a mini time-out to tell you I went back to 7 Mares on Tuesday with my friend Daniel Sweren-Becker who asked me to please not mention his name in my blog. You're welcome Daniel. Daniel tried to order 2 fish tacos and 2 beef tacos and the lady told him you can't get fish in the $4.99 special, so he just got 2 fish tacos and 2 beef tacos a la carte, with no drink. The fish tacos were HUGE and like, succulent looking and his whole meal cost only $4.25 and he got a free cup of water to drink. So, I am rethinking this $4.99 deal. Then Daniel told me my blog needed more pictures, but refused to let me take a picture of HIM. Then we walked to get gelato from Pazzo (GO EVERYONE, GO) and he made me stop at Undefeated (a very cool sneaker store) to look at "shoekers," which are sneakers that look like fancy shoes. He hated all of my shoe-picks (I am SORRY I enjoy a man in Converse). I am making Daniel sound like a precious, snarky recluse, but really he is a hilarious, kind TV writer from New York and we had a delightful time and I am just letting you know he turned me onto the fish tacos at 7 Mares.
But all of the tacos AT 7 Mares are fucking delicious. You get a number at the counter and then it takes them about 5 minutes to prepare your food; they are fast. The "everything" that 7 Mares puts on their tacos is this like dark, slightly spicy sauce and some onions and cilantro; simple, but lets the flavor of the meat shine and the tacos themselves have that hearty, thick texture that I love. I wolfed down two and then had to take a break. Then, after some diet coke, I stuffed a third taco into my face. I would've taken down the fourth, but it was hot and I was lunching with a dude who I knew could handle another taco, so I let Ant have it. I was really proud that I had taken Ant somewhere he hadn't been to yet and he liked it. Then we sat there for another hour chatting and laughing without a care in the world (okay I am very neurotic and ALWAYS obsessing about something, so I constantly have cares in the world, but it was still really fun).
Oh, sometimes your plate of tacos comes with a giant pepper. Daniel suggested I take a picture of this pepper:
Okay, actually Daniel took a picture of me with the pepper, but no one needs to see that. I am pretty sure I had the "everything" sauce on my face. But guys, this really is a great, cheap place to eat in Silverlake. It's also not ALL slender graphic designers in Ray Bans, but a mix of everyone in the area and I really like that.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Reservoir, Dawgs
Before we begin, let me just address the title of this post. I know it is incredibly cheesy and a bad pun (or is it a play on words? Who was I just talking to about this?), but I fucking love it and so it stays. I also fucking love the Silverlake Reservoir and I am excited to tell you all (Mom) about it. Yes, I had to Google this body of water to confirm it is, in fact, called the Silverlake Reservoir (my friend Kyle tells a really fun story about how I called that little pond in Echo Park near the Echoplex "the reservoir" for two years), but that doesn't change the fact that the place is great and gorgeous and I have walked or ran around it almost everyday since I moved to this neck of the woods. BEHOLD:
The first time I walked the reservoir, it was with my friend Emily. A little bit about this chick because she deserves RECOGNITION. Emily Moffet is a self-described giant, gay, black man inside a pretty, white (even though she looks ever-so-slightly Inuit) girl's body. Emily loves dancing, chili and reality television in that order. She is also a genius who went to Northwestern and has a FREAKISHLY good memory. Although she's from LA, Emily recently moved to Silverlake too (okay, she was here FIRST and I followed her) and her apartment is just a stumble away from mine. I love her. She lives with her friend from high school Alison, whom I have also forced to become my friend by just going over there all the time to gossip and steal diet root beer (best drink ever). Alison is getting her PHD in cinema studies (I know, these two girls are clearly IDIOTS) so she can throw down about Japanese movies and sometimes I come over and she's applying glass tears to look like a Man Ray photo for a Surrealist dinner party, but she also enjoys the keyboard-playing cat on youtube and can indulge me in my silliness. Anyway, my time in Silverlake wouldn't be the same without Em and Al, and there's nothing better than walking around the reservoir with them on a Saturday afternoon.
The second time I walked the reservoir, I went by myself. This was a mistake. Firstly, the dog park is really intimidating. You walk by it and there are all these cool people with their cool dogs staring at me because I am the only person in a five mile radius wearing Nike athletic shorts. Don't say that's me being paranoid (Mom); they were totally looking at me with judge-y faces. Also I am sort of afraid of dogs (Anna, one of my bestest friends who lives very far away in Beverly Hills, will happily tell you about the time I ran from two chihuahuas screaming "They're not on a LEASH!!!"). Secondly, the whole point of working out by the RES is so that you can go to LAMILL after. LAMILL (I don't know how to write it any other way, it's in caps on the sign and I don't want to misinform people about the name) is this really fancy coffee shop on Silverlake Blvd. that has this INSANE drink that is called a Mojito but is really just green tea with like, muddled limes and mint leaves in it. This drink is honestly so good and refreshing it's like taking a shower in a waterfall with a beautiful naked man sponging your body gently. Unfortunately, LAMILL is SUCH a swanky little outfit that I am terrified to go in alone. The people that work there sort of ignore you, at least for five minutes or so, if you're not wearing a Steven Alan top or APC jeans. So yeah, I can't go in if I am walking ALONE. Oh, here are some fun pics of LAMILL from their SUPERCHIC website:
http://www.lamillcoffee.com/experience/lamill-coffee-boutique-silverlake/gallery.html
Thirdly, and the most important reason I should not have walked the reservoir alone, is that I have no sense of direction and managed to get completely lost while never leaving the water's edge and eventually had to call Noelia at work for directions. What I ended up realizing was that I walked around the reservoir TWICE. Like, I am THAT stupid. I was all "Oh cool! There are two dog parks and two basketball courts and two twin preschools on either side of the water!". I can't believe I am even typing this it is so goddamn dumb. I was actually sore for like five days after that. The next time I walked the res with Em and Alpal (she might hate this nickname; let's test the waters), a pair of old ladies stopped us and asked how far you've gone if you walk all the way around. I told them five miles and commended them for being so spry. Emily googled it and was like, "Daph, it's 2.3 miles. You lie to old people. Shame on you." Then I had to admit it was because I accidentally went around the water twice and that's why I thought it was such a long freaking walk. But the reservoir really is pretty, there are lovely houses to look at as you stroll, and it's just awesome to be outside.
Oh, one more thing about the Silverlake Reservoir: they just opened up this big field next to the water that they have been growing (cultivating? gardening?) all year and you can go with your friends to lie in the grass or drink wine or throw a football or whatever it is you like to in fields. I love it. I also think I saw Garrett Hedlund there yesterday (I am telling you, rent Country Strong; you won't be sorry) and it was sexy. And on that note, I think it's time for a walk...
The first time I walked the reservoir, it was with my friend Emily. A little bit about this chick because she deserves RECOGNITION. Emily Moffet is a self-described giant, gay, black man inside a pretty, white (even though she looks ever-so-slightly Inuit) girl's body. Emily loves dancing, chili and reality television in that order. She is also a genius who went to Northwestern and has a FREAKISHLY good memory. Although she's from LA, Emily recently moved to Silverlake too (okay, she was here FIRST and I followed her) and her apartment is just a stumble away from mine. I love her. She lives with her friend from high school Alison, whom I have also forced to become my friend by just going over there all the time to gossip and steal diet root beer (best drink ever). Alison is getting her PHD in cinema studies (I know, these two girls are clearly IDIOTS) so she can throw down about Japanese movies and sometimes I come over and she's applying glass tears to look like a Man Ray photo for a Surrealist dinner party, but she also enjoys the keyboard-playing cat on youtube and can indulge me in my silliness. Anyway, my time in Silverlake wouldn't be the same without Em and Al, and there's nothing better than walking around the reservoir with them on a Saturday afternoon.
The second time I walked the reservoir, I went by myself. This was a mistake. Firstly, the dog park is really intimidating. You walk by it and there are all these cool people with their cool dogs staring at me because I am the only person in a five mile radius wearing Nike athletic shorts. Don't say that's me being paranoid (Mom); they were totally looking at me with judge-y faces. Also I am sort of afraid of dogs (Anna, one of my bestest friends who lives very far away in Beverly Hills, will happily tell you about the time I ran from two chihuahuas screaming "They're not on a LEASH!!!"). Secondly, the whole point of working out by the RES is so that you can go to LAMILL after. LAMILL (I don't know how to write it any other way, it's in caps on the sign and I don't want to misinform people about the name) is this really fancy coffee shop on Silverlake Blvd. that has this INSANE drink that is called a Mojito but is really just green tea with like, muddled limes and mint leaves in it. This drink is honestly so good and refreshing it's like taking a shower in a waterfall with a beautiful naked man sponging your body gently. Unfortunately, LAMILL is SUCH a swanky little outfit that I am terrified to go in alone. The people that work there sort of ignore you, at least for five minutes or so, if you're not wearing a Steven Alan top or APC jeans. So yeah, I can't go in if I am walking ALONE. Oh, here are some fun pics of LAMILL from their SUPERCHIC website:
http://www.lamillcoffee.com/experience/lamill-coffee-boutique-silverlake/gallery.html
Thirdly, and the most important reason I should not have walked the reservoir alone, is that I have no sense of direction and managed to get completely lost while never leaving the water's edge and eventually had to call Noelia at work for directions. What I ended up realizing was that I walked around the reservoir TWICE. Like, I am THAT stupid. I was all "Oh cool! There are two dog parks and two basketball courts and two twin preschools on either side of the water!". I can't believe I am even typing this it is so goddamn dumb. I was actually sore for like five days after that. The next time I walked the res with Em and Alpal (she might hate this nickname; let's test the waters), a pair of old ladies stopped us and asked how far you've gone if you walk all the way around. I told them five miles and commended them for being so spry. Emily googled it and was like, "Daph, it's 2.3 miles. You lie to old people. Shame on you." Then I had to admit it was because I accidentally went around the water twice and that's why I thought it was such a long freaking walk. But the reservoir really is pretty, there are lovely houses to look at as you stroll, and it's just awesome to be outside.
Oh, one more thing about the Silverlake Reservoir: they just opened up this big field next to the water that they have been growing (cultivating? gardening?) all year and you can go with your friends to lie in the grass or drink wine or throw a football or whatever it is you like to in fields. I love it. I also think I saw Garrett Hedlund there yesterday (I am telling you, rent Country Strong; you won't be sorry) and it was sexy. And on that note, I think it's time for a walk...
Monday, April 25, 2011
ET iphone
I am terrible with technology. Maybe you guys have already noticed this judging by how beautiful this blog is (I AM going to spruce it up, just you wait). Maybe you also noticed this because I TOLD you how hard it was for me to get on the blog train in the first place. I am resistant to change and to admitting that I am getting old. Also, if something doesn't come easily to me right away, I decide I hate it and refuse to involve myself with it (like math, hand-eye coordination, and talking to boys). I had this phone up until three months ago:
It also took me like twelve minutes to figure out how to paste that photo using my new imac, because I do not know how you right-click with this mousepad and have to wait for it to happen ACCIDENTALLY. This new imac is also already breaking down on me. At least once a day, the screen goes gray and my computer tells me there is a problem and I need to shut it down. Ironically, I blame itunes, also owned by apple, because that's where I download all of my "foreign" shit from (downloading Country Strong counts as foreign, right? Also, I could write an entire post about that movie it is so awesome/terrible/sexy/hilarious).
Anyway, back to my phone. So three months ago, I decide I need a phone I can actually check my email on and also not have people scream "Zach Morris!" at me when I talk on it while walking down the street. I heard Blackberries were better for work (something about the keyboard and I must confess I had an office-issued Blackberry when I worked at a production company that I found pretty easy to use), but I kind of wanted an iphone. I wanted an iphone for the following reasons:
1) Everyone who I see who is wearing a good outfit has an iphone. It's just a hot/functional accessory like a beanie hat or a good flannel (okay, so I enjoy gentlemen that favor the lumberjack look).
2) Apps. I don't know what these are really, but I know if you have them you can do things like see where the best places to GTL are (um, you need to watch Jersey Shore if you don't know what that stands for) or have Alec Baldwin's voice say clever things to you or something. Allegedly, iphones have the best apps. So I wanted some.
3) I am trying really hard to become a mac-person. Again, I don't really know WHY, it just seems like mac people are more modern and progressive and cool so you know, I wanted to get in on that action...besides buying an expensive imac that constantly breaks down on me.
Finally a few months ago, I go to the AT&T store and march up to the sales lady and hand her my Nokia. She laughs. Into my face. Which is fine, I get where she's coming from. Anyway, I say I think I want an iphone. She gently tells me it's kind of a big leap to go from my 1999 clunker to the 3G. I gently tell HER I want my apps, bitch. She tells me I should try to send myself a text from the iphone and one from the stupid, nerdy Blackberry Curve (SPOILER ALERT DISCLAIMER: I have a Curve now and know other, very cool people who also use a Curve and I like it a lot, so CALM DOWN Blackberry worker that I don't know about that reads my blog!). I texted myself "Please work" from the iphone which came out like "Plowsdork" on Zach Morris and when I texted myself "Ugh, fine" from the Blackberry it worked perfectly, of course.
So I let the smug lady sell me the damn Blackberry. And like I said in my spoiler, I do enjoy the Curve and am able to use it...although people are constantly showing me how do things like search for emails, cut and paste, and you know, turn off the phone at the movies. I also get really jealous when my friend Kalen whips out his iphone (I don't think it's a 3G; I think it's original sauce) and takes a "Hipstomatic" photo with the Hipstomatic app. I always make fun of him and how long the photo takes to pop up on the screen and then sigh secretly to myself because I can't take dreamily-lit photos with my telephone. Anyhow, the point of this post is that people in Silverlake are really tech-savvy and I am not but I am TRYING. So if you see me walking down the street with my Blackberry Curve, GIVE ME A BREAK, because it is a huge, huge step for me.
It also took me like twelve minutes to figure out how to paste that photo using my new imac, because I do not know how you right-click with this mousepad and have to wait for it to happen ACCIDENTALLY. This new imac is also already breaking down on me. At least once a day, the screen goes gray and my computer tells me there is a problem and I need to shut it down. Ironically, I blame itunes, also owned by apple, because that's where I download all of my "foreign" shit from (downloading Country Strong counts as foreign, right? Also, I could write an entire post about that movie it is so awesome/terrible/sexy/hilarious).
Anyway, back to my phone. So three months ago, I decide I need a phone I can actually check my email on and also not have people scream "Zach Morris!" at me when I talk on it while walking down the street. I heard Blackberries were better for work (something about the keyboard and I must confess I had an office-issued Blackberry when I worked at a production company that I found pretty easy to use), but I kind of wanted an iphone. I wanted an iphone for the following reasons:
1) Everyone who I see who is wearing a good outfit has an iphone. It's just a hot/functional accessory like a beanie hat or a good flannel (okay, so I enjoy gentlemen that favor the lumberjack look).
2) Apps. I don't know what these are really, but I know if you have them you can do things like see where the best places to GTL are (um, you need to watch Jersey Shore if you don't know what that stands for) or have Alec Baldwin's voice say clever things to you or something. Allegedly, iphones have the best apps. So I wanted some.
3) I am trying really hard to become a mac-person. Again, I don't really know WHY, it just seems like mac people are more modern and progressive and cool so you know, I wanted to get in on that action...besides buying an expensive imac that constantly breaks down on me.
Finally a few months ago, I go to the AT&T store and march up to the sales lady and hand her my Nokia. She laughs. Into my face. Which is fine, I get where she's coming from. Anyway, I say I think I want an iphone. She gently tells me it's kind of a big leap to go from my 1999 clunker to the 3G. I gently tell HER I want my apps, bitch. She tells me I should try to send myself a text from the iphone and one from the stupid, nerdy Blackberry Curve (SPOILER ALERT DISCLAIMER: I have a Curve now and know other, very cool people who also use a Curve and I like it a lot, so CALM DOWN Blackberry worker that I don't know about that reads my blog!). I texted myself "Please work" from the iphone which came out like "Plowsdork" on Zach Morris and when I texted myself "Ugh, fine" from the Blackberry it worked perfectly, of course.
So I let the smug lady sell me the damn Blackberry. And like I said in my spoiler, I do enjoy the Curve and am able to use it...although people are constantly showing me how do things like search for emails, cut and paste, and you know, turn off the phone at the movies. I also get really jealous when my friend Kalen whips out his iphone (I don't think it's a 3G; I think it's original sauce) and takes a "Hipstomatic" photo with the Hipstomatic app. I always make fun of him and how long the photo takes to pop up on the screen and then sigh secretly to myself because I can't take dreamily-lit photos with my telephone. Anyhow, the point of this post is that people in Silverlake are really tech-savvy and I am not but I am TRYING. So if you see me walking down the street with my Blackberry Curve, GIVE ME A BREAK, because it is a huge, huge step for me.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Berlin Currywurst...is the BEST!
So, I've mentioned this, but I am obsessed with food. I love the Food Network, I love Top Chef, and one time I watched Julie and Julia on silent and just drooled at the TV screen. But what I love even more than just eating food, is going to a new restaurant. I will try pretty much anything and go pretty much anywhere; I am a culinary whore. I will happily spend my rent on Osteria Mozza or overindulge on free pickled cucumbers at the latenight Silverlake taco truck (I maintain it is the taco truck owner's own fault that I stole all his pickled cucumbers, as he leaves the container right out in front with little plastic bags for smuggling right beside them). When I moved to Silverlake I was SO effing amped to try every eatery in the area. However, I think I also mentioned that I am easily intimidated by places that appear to be too cool for me (to be fair to my new neighborhood, I thought the La Brea Target was too cool for me for like 6 months before I forced myself to go in). That is why it's important for every person new to Silverlake to have at least one "hip" friend already living there who actually enjoys eating/doing activities. I have such a friend and when Berlin Currywurst opened on the corner of Sunset and Hyperion, we both knew we had to go eat there together.
Noelia (I know, even her name is interesting) is one of my favorite human beings and besides being a smart, sweet and funny lady, she looks cool as shit (guys, she has BANGS and always wears intriguing tights), so I felt totally confident going into Currywurst. It is TINY inside. Like. I took up half of the restaurant. But nonetheless, Currywurst is very clean and simple and cute; a little cafe with chairs and tables and wood benches outside that are perfect for people-watching.
But I think I have to back up for a second and address this restaurant's name. Currywurst. At first, I just thought "well this is a Goddamn terrible name for a place where people consume food." The name just sort of conjures up images of poop and not even good poop, the WORST poop. However, I hope you all feel stupid and bad about yourselves like I did when I found out where Berlin Currywurst got its name, because it actually makes total sense.
This very handsome and slender Indian fellow introduced himself to Noelia and me from behind the counter when we walked in (but whose name escapes me now because when I meet slender handsome fellows with nerd glasses, I am so focused on saying my own name correctly that their names always go in one ear and out of the other. This is selfish and bad, I know). This dude was living in Germany when he met an even more gorgeous German lady. They decided to wed I suppose, and then move to Silverlake to open up a street-food shop that combined Indian and German flavors. Hence, Currywurst (See? It's totally precious NOT gross) . Okay, Noelia just IMed me their names: Lena and Hardeep Manak. So Lena and Hardeep are both at Currywurst, running the place and being generally friendly and beautiful.
Hardeep walked us through our order. So basically, you get a plate of sausage in sauce with some bread for dipping or sandwich-making. They also have fries; GET THEM. The fries are really wonderful and salty and thickish cut and you can dip them in mayonnaise (seriously, one of the best things about this place is that it is completely acceptable to dip EVERYTHING in mayo). They also have ketchup, don't worry. Anyway, the sausage. There are five levels of spiciness, 1 being not spicy and 5 setting your mouth ablaze. Hardeep said most people order in the 2-3 range, but of course Noey got a 1 because although she is hip and cool and loves trying new cuisines she is a PUSSY about spiciness (sorry Nole, I love you still). I got a 3 (maybe it was a 2, but 3 sounds better and this my damn blog), and I got the Paprikawurst because Hardeep recommended it. I can't remember what Noelia got, but I THINK she did the traditional Bratwurst to get a fundamental sense of the place (she is very practical). They also have a vegetarian option and different kinds of meat so there's something for everyone. The two of us sat outside on the bench facing the road so that we could stare at people and actually a very strange music video shoot starring a 16-year-old Kesha wannabe was going on in the parking lot across the street.
Pretty Lena brought out our food pretty quickly. Okay so this is what it looks like:
http://www.yelp.com/biz_photos/yJ7BNJ4kHCjNq7PAk8dueA?select=OPyGAfHkzoB54mxLhy1MOw
Not so hot right? But I tell you, it is CRAZY delicious. Also, it's like the perfect amount of food so even though I ate sausage, I didn't have to take a nap immediately following (we actually got gelato at Pazzo next door and it rocked my socks off...but that's for another entry...except they have BROWN BUTTER cinnamon gelato, just saying). Noelia and I gossiped and chatted and ate and laughed and then something AWESOME happened. Someone I KNEW came into Currywurst. I cannot tell you how smug and hip I felt...but I just did. I have to give this guy a shout out (at least to you, Mom) because he came to Currywurst by himself to get some food and read The Age of Innocence. I swear to God I almost got up and kissed Ryan "Mori" Moriarty fully on the mouth with my Paprikawurst breath when he showed me that he was reading that novel. I think he is available ladies; go for it. Oh yeah, the breath thing could be an issue so if you think you're going to make out post-wurst, go for the simple chicken sausage or something. So Mori, Noelia and I chatted for a bit and then Noelia and I went to go work out (or eat gelato, whatever) while Mori continued his afternoon with Edith Wharton.
Anyway, Berlin Currywurst, I love you. Please go check it out, because I want Lena and Hardeep to stick around for a long time so I can slowly and secretly seduce them into being my friends.
Noelia (I know, even her name is interesting) is one of my favorite human beings and besides being a smart, sweet and funny lady, she looks cool as shit (guys, she has BANGS and always wears intriguing tights), so I felt totally confident going into Currywurst. It is TINY inside. Like. I took up half of the restaurant. But nonetheless, Currywurst is very clean and simple and cute; a little cafe with chairs and tables and wood benches outside that are perfect for people-watching.
But I think I have to back up for a second and address this restaurant's name. Currywurst. At first, I just thought "well this is a Goddamn terrible name for a place where people consume food." The name just sort of conjures up images of poop and not even good poop, the WORST poop. However, I hope you all feel stupid and bad about yourselves like I did when I found out where Berlin Currywurst got its name, because it actually makes total sense.
This very handsome and slender Indian fellow introduced himself to Noelia and me from behind the counter when we walked in (but whose name escapes me now because when I meet slender handsome fellows with nerd glasses, I am so focused on saying my own name correctly that their names always go in one ear and out of the other. This is selfish and bad, I know). This dude was living in Germany when he met an even more gorgeous German lady. They decided to wed I suppose, and then move to Silverlake to open up a street-food shop that combined Indian and German flavors. Hence, Currywurst (See? It's totally precious NOT gross) . Okay, Noelia just IMed me their names: Lena and Hardeep Manak. So Lena and Hardeep are both at Currywurst, running the place and being generally friendly and beautiful.
Hardeep walked us through our order. So basically, you get a plate of sausage in sauce with some bread for dipping or sandwich-making. They also have fries; GET THEM. The fries are really wonderful and salty and thickish cut and you can dip them in mayonnaise (seriously, one of the best things about this place is that it is completely acceptable to dip EVERYTHING in mayo). They also have ketchup, don't worry. Anyway, the sausage. There are five levels of spiciness, 1 being not spicy and 5 setting your mouth ablaze. Hardeep said most people order in the 2-3 range, but of course Noey got a 1 because although she is hip and cool and loves trying new cuisines she is a PUSSY about spiciness (sorry Nole, I love you still). I got a 3 (maybe it was a 2, but 3 sounds better and this my damn blog), and I got the Paprikawurst because Hardeep recommended it. I can't remember what Noelia got, but I THINK she did the traditional Bratwurst to get a fundamental sense of the place (she is very practical). They also have a vegetarian option and different kinds of meat so there's something for everyone. The two of us sat outside on the bench facing the road so that we could stare at people and actually a very strange music video shoot starring a 16-year-old Kesha wannabe was going on in the parking lot across the street.
Pretty Lena brought out our food pretty quickly. Okay so this is what it looks like:
http://www.yelp.com/biz_photos/yJ7BNJ4kHCjNq7PAk8dueA?select=OPyGAfHkzoB54mxLhy1MOw
Not so hot right? But I tell you, it is CRAZY delicious. Also, it's like the perfect amount of food so even though I ate sausage, I didn't have to take a nap immediately following (we actually got gelato at Pazzo next door and it rocked my socks off...but that's for another entry...except they have BROWN BUTTER cinnamon gelato, just saying). Noelia and I gossiped and chatted and ate and laughed and then something AWESOME happened. Someone I KNEW came into Currywurst. I cannot tell you how smug and hip I felt...but I just did. I have to give this guy a shout out (at least to you, Mom) because he came to Currywurst by himself to get some food and read The Age of Innocence. I swear to God I almost got up and kissed Ryan "Mori" Moriarty fully on the mouth with my Paprikawurst breath when he showed me that he was reading that novel. I think he is available ladies; go for it. Oh yeah, the breath thing could be an issue so if you think you're going to make out post-wurst, go for the simple chicken sausage or something. So Mori, Noelia and I chatted for a bit and then Noelia and I went to go work out (or eat gelato, whatever) while Mori continued his afternoon with Edith Wharton.
Anyway, Berlin Currywurst, I love you. Please go check it out, because I want Lena and Hardeep to stick around for a long time so I can slowly and secretly seduce them into being my friends.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
It Just Got Strange...
So about a month ago I moved into this great studio in Silverlake and promptly lost my job. It’s really a dream apartment; right off Sunset, spacious, with an exposed brick wall (which is obviously very cool and totally why I took the place without asking if the toilet worked properly). All my life I’ve wanted to be an “artist” in every sense of the word…from writing meaningful prose that people wind up studying in school on the moon in the future to wearing all black, being painfully thin but not as thin as my musician lover, of course. The problem is I am really not any of those things. I love to write but constantly doubt my talent (which I’m told is actually what a lot of artists think of their skills, so maybe scratch that one), I am not even un-painfully thin, and I am completely single save for the occasional blind date or blind mistake. However, I do think I have a real appreciation for artists, art, and all things interesting and weird. Moving to Silverlake was the first step in my plan to embrace an “artist’s lifestyle, “ if you will. Losing the job that afforded me the time to actually write and be an artist was most definitely not part of this plan. Ironically, losing my job gets me a little bit closer to actually fitting in over here.
No one in Silverlake works. Okay that is a huge lie; everyone in Silverlake works, possibly harder than people in some other Los Angeles neighborhoods, but no one works a normal 9 to 5 job. I discovered this when I walked outside to buy lunch the day I lost my job and felt like it was the opening scene in Beauty and the Beast (Disney, not Cocteau) when all of the villagers are out and about, except that everyone was wearing Opening Ceremony and only one guy was singing as he walked down the street playing a banjo. All of these "Silverlakers" looked fantastic as they ate equally fantastic looking sandwiches and salads and tacos, undoubtedly discussing obscure books and bands and art. I loved it. Unfortunately, I felt like a complete outsider and was too scared to go into Food Lab to get a Nicoise salad (these salads are delicious and I used to get them all the time at the less-intimidating West Hollywood Food Lab). I mean I was wearing sweatpants and flip flops. I think Havianas are against the rules over here.
Anyway, it was that afternoon as I sat in my apartment shame-eating Kraft mac n' cheese and watching Khloe and Lamar on the E! Network (just don't even start watching because you will become addicted and Khloe Kardashian's voice will haunt your dreams) that I decided I needed to get my shit together and start acclimating to my new life. So this blog, which took me two hours to set up because I am terrible with technology (oh don't worry, more on that later), is sort of a public journal of my East LA adventure. An online exploration of Silverlake, Los Feliz, and Echo Park (though I am still not quite sure where Echo Park actually is). You, dear reader (okay, Mom), can use this as a sort of guide to all of the cool stuff there is over here; the information just comes from someone who is not very cool at all. But I do love to try new things: music, food, movies, museums and I guess, writing this blog. So enjoy!
Anyway, it was that afternoon as I sat in my apartment shame-eating Kraft mac n' cheese and watching Khloe and Lamar on the E! Network (just don't even start watching because you will become addicted and Khloe Kardashian's voice will haunt your dreams) that I decided I needed to get my shit together and start acclimating to my new life. So this blog, which took me two hours to set up because I am terrible with technology (oh don't worry, more on that later), is sort of a public journal of my East LA adventure. An online exploration of Silverlake, Los Feliz, and Echo Park (though I am still not quite sure where Echo Park actually is). You, dear reader (okay, Mom), can use this as a sort of guide to all of the cool stuff there is over here; the information just comes from someone who is not very cool at all. But I do love to try new things: music, food, movies, museums and I guess, writing this blog. So enjoy!
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