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LAgirl and the Big Wheel Gang

As a former 16 year old, I think I can accurately state that the most important thing to a teenage girl, well, beside boys, is sleep. It is important that during the teenage years, girls get at least 475 hours of sleep every night. This is necessary in order for her to keep up the energy it takes to change outfits 8-10 times (leaving the previous outfit on the floor) before going out. Should anything disturb that sleep, beware the surliness of a girl on the cusp of womanhood!

I grew up with a whole bevy of siblings who made it their career goal to annoy me… then run. My youngest brother, Mike, was 6 at the time we moved to the Midwest from an urban east coast city. I was annoyed that we had to leave the east coast, I felt sure that Colorado was still inhabited by cowboys and native Americans duking it out over pieces of dried, dirty, and barren land. (Ok, in some ways, I was right, there were still cowboys, they just spent most of their time spitting tobacco juice and doing weird group dances at western music halls).

Mike had 2 friends across the street from our house, DJ and Kip, who I reluctantly babysat for occasionally (Kip was a cute kid, but I was sure that DJ was only a few years away from jail!). Every morning during the summer, they woke up around 7 am, and by 7:30 were hauling ass on their Big Wheels up and down the sidewalk that ran right in front of my bedroom window. And every morning, I yelled out the window for them to go ride somewhere else, which they gleefully ignored. I tried closing my window, putting a pillow over my head, listening to my radio with headphones… none of it worked to eliminate the din of the Big Wheel Gang.

One summer the Big Wheel Gang decided to retro fit their Big Wheels. They removed the seats which allowed them to ride closer to the ground, and in a moment of genius, they added a few stones to the inside of the tires, just so enemy gangs (or sisters) could hear them coming from miles away. The moment I heard the thunder of the gang, I opened my window and started yelling, only to see the back end of the Big Wheels slide around the corner of the house as my brother looked over his shoulder and laughed.

Every morning as my mad as hell attitude headed to the kitchen smell of burnt toast and spilled orange juice, I railed at my parents for allowing them to disturb my sleep. And every morning I was disappointed in my parents’ lack of response to my complaints. My father just kept his newspaper in front of his face (was he actually SMILING BACK THERE!!!) and my mother gave me a consoling nod and turned back to wash the dishes. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. Though my 6 year old brother had ruined my sleep, it was my parents who had ruined my life by refusing to let me go out with blue eye shadow caked around my lids, or wearing a see-through peasant blouse. I think they experienced my demeanor as a caged lion waiting to rip off any fingers that they extended into my cage! My mother has since told me that the only good thing about teenagers is they eventually grow up.

A few weeks ago, that same brother, who was the leader of the Big Wheel Gang, now grown up with teenagers of his own, happened to be visiting LA. I don’t have kids, but I’m the “cool” aunt, so I suggested that he drop the 2 girls off at my house for 24 hours of teenage girly fun! I wanted to show them how great LA is, and share lots of girly things with them. I pictured us walking hand in hand down the Venice boardwalk, checking out the same cute guys and sipping iced lattes. I knew it would happen that way, because I remember what it was like being a teenager, so of course I could relate to them!

The night they arrived, they sat next to each other on my couch text messaging their friends back home on their cell phones. (My brother told me that one month they had logged over 30,000 minutes of text messages).
“Hey guys,” I said. They looked at me blankly, “Wanna play a game?’
They looked at each other and shrugged, “Sure.”
So I set up a fun “teenage” game that requires some strategy and attention and allows for lots of fun chatting while you play.
After I explained the directions, to which they just nodded, when they weren’t text messaging, A took the first turn. She picked up a piece and randomly set it on the board. Her sister, R, did the same thing before resuming tapping out words on the keypad of her phone. I placed my piece and then A, without even taking a moment to look closely at the board, gloomily dropped her piece in place.
“Ah,” I said, “You might want to rethink that.”
She blinked her eyes at me twice and said, “Naw, that’s ok.”

R did the same thing, placing her game piece in a bad position, before typing again on her phone.
“So, do you guys have boyfriends?” I asked, anxious to share their lives and give them some precious advice that I was sure they were waiting to get from the “cool” aunt.
They giggled and looked at each other before A said, “She did!”
“Stop!” R responded.
“But they broke up”, A reported.
“Oh! Who broke up with whom?” I asked.
Again they just giggled and said, “I don’t know.” And went back to their phones.

Half an hour later, after easily defeating them, I suggested we order pizza.
“There’s this really cool pizza place that has all kinds of exotic ingredients,” I said, “You can even get artichoke and goat cheese.”
“Do they have pepperoni?” The girls asked.

After eating in virtual silence, they responded to my questions with single syllables, they wanted to go to bed, watch TV, and text their friends. I let them have my room, while I retired to the couch. When I finally switched off my lamp at 1am, I could still see the light of the TV flickering under the door.

I got up at 9 the next morning thinking we could go out to breakfast and then I’d take them to the Santa Monica pier and the Venice boardwalk. At 9:30, I knocked and opened the door.
“Hey, guys, wanna go to breakfast and the Venice boardwalk?”
They mumbled and one of them said something about maybe later. I waited an hour and a half (I figured one REM cycle would be good) before trying again. The second time I attempted to get them up, they rolled over and said they wanted to sleep longer.
“Hey, if we don’t go soon it will be too late and you’ll have wasted your whole day sleeping.” No response.

I couldn’t believe all they wanted to do was sleep! I can’t imagine I was like THAT as a teenager… but then again, I don’t think I’m going to ask my parents. Instead I think I should get a Big Wheel loaded with tire pebbles and ride it up and down the hallway.

LAgirl and the Camping Problem

As I've perused the many profiles of single men in LA on dating sites, I've noticed that they all seem to have several things in common. Under the category of "activities you enjoy”, they all list "hiking, biking, and camping".

Well, I don’t know how to ride a bike (that adage, “it’s just like riding bike”, isn’t true!) and I’m not much of a “mountain” girl, although I do enjoy an occasional hike (to the coffee shop). BUT, hanging out in the woods, sleeping on dirt, next to a guy who hasn't showered in 3 days with nothing to protect me from the elements (cause let's face it, HE isn't going to protect me) except a thin slice of nylon?? Hmm, that's definitely NOT my idea of fun. In fact, the first time I attempted camping, I called my sister, who is quite the outdoors-woman, and asked her for a list of necessities I would need in the forest. She proceeded to laugh her ass off and tell me that there’s no place to plug in my hairdryer or chill a martini glass.

In spite of my sister’s doubts, I tried to force myself to “enjoy” camping. I dated a guy who took me backpacking 5 miles over a very steep mountain pass that had previously seen only the footprints of agile big-horned sheep, (but are now stamped with the ass-prints of non-agile city-bred woman) where we spent 3 showerless days outside cell phone range. He was smart enough to pack fresh pasta and several bottles of good cabernet. But even a few glasses of wine can't make me want to have sex with a guy that smells like bear poo. He liked camping SO MUCH that he was willing to forgo the sex in order to hang out under the pines for several days. What guy is willing to forgo SEX! for trees!! I'm not sure, but I think he might have been gay.

I then dated a guy who was convinced that I would enjoy camping if I was comfortable. He was SO convinced, that he lugged a queen size blow-up bed for 3 miles to a campsite. After setting up the tent and gathering wood (I was bathing in the near by creek, no way I was smelling like bear poo, even if the water was only 65 degrees!), he opened the giant plastic bladder, attached the foot pump and began stomping away. When I showed up 15 minutes later, he was red faced and huffing and puffing, but the bed was still completely flat. I picked up the instruction packet that had come in the box and said, "Hey, did you plug the air exhaust hole first?"...... I can't say he was the smartest guy I've ever dated.

After that experience, I decided to "tell" guys I liked camping, but not actually GO camping with them. This works pretty well at the beginning of a relationship, when, as he packs the backpacks, you suddenly appear in a very thin wife beater t-shirt and short-shorts (you claim it’s your hiking outfit). If you can make the sex last a couple of hours, all he'll want to do is order in Chinese and sleep. At which point you can remind him that Firecracker Wong’s** doesn't deliver in the woods. Of course, after about 6 months he'll be used to seeing you in that wife beater, and even when you bend over and place your chest at exactly his eye level, it won't stop him from packing the gear. If only camping required a costume of thigh-high leather boots and a whip, I think you could avoid it forever.

My friends have assured me that "telling the truth" is the only way to go. So, taking their advice, I entered "not much of a camper" on my dating profile. For months, I didn't get any hits. I was losing faith that there might actually be men out there who don't like to camp, when ta-da! A coffee date with Jim, who made it perfectly clear that he did NOT like camping..... However, he did like spending 7-8 hours/day playing dungeons and dragons on-line, which, he pointed out, as he put TWLEVE, yes, TWELVE packets of sugar in his coffee, he had skipped that day so he could meet me at Denny's (his choice of meeting place...).

I had pretty much given up hope when the inconceivable happened! Today, as I was sitting in the courtyard of a friend's apartment complex sipping vodka and pomegranate juice (it's supposed to have health benefits... the juice, that is.... not sure about the vodka... though there have been some very bad days when I've gulped down a big fat chilled glass of vodka and it's been to the benefit of EVERYBODY ELSE’s health) ... Anyway, we were chatting about the fact that once you start painting your toenails on a regular basis you can never stop because the polish will turn your nails yellow, and who wants to look at yellow toe nails .... especially when they're considering putting your toes in their mouth... (I say always be prepared for a guy with a foot fetish). Well, at that point in our conversation two very cute guys with three very cute dogs strode into the courtyard carrying a smallish box that appeared to be a scrabble game (hmmm, already I’m interested!). While continuing the discussion with my girlfriend (we had moved on to recent national faux pas’, like when Bush rudely asked a guy wearing sunglasses if he was blind…. And he was), I kept one eye on the two guys. They ripped open the box, yanked out six pieces of "tent" and tried putting it up without reading the instructions (a sign that they were not gay). At first they moved the poles around and positioned them in a tee-pee like structure and then threw the piece of nylon over the top. Obviously this was not correct. After that, they took out the directions and inserted the poles into the sleeves marked "insert pole here" on the nylon tent. As they tried to bend the poles and make the tent stand up, the whole mess collapsed. These guys looked exactly like the kind of campers I could easily convince to stay in the city on weekends! Next, one of the guys removed his cell phone and called the support line listed on the "easy 2 step tent assembly" instructions.


I don't know if they ever got the tent set up, I became distracted by my empty beverage glass and had to go in for another vodka/pomegranate. When I returned to the courtyard, they were gone. Hopefully they just gave up and went to Starbucks.... I plan to find out in a few weeks when my girlfriend's apartment complex throws it's annual, never-to-be-missed-by-cute-male-residents 4th of July bash. I’ll be sure to let you know!

**… In order to protect the innocent, a false name has been used for the above restaurant. The false name was created with the “Chinese Food Restaurant Name Generator”, which you can find at
http://www.newmoanyeah.com/2004-features/062104_chinese_food_restaurant_name_generator.php

Side Street Cafe, Los Olivos, review

On a recent wine tasting weekend in the Santa Barbara area, the Side Street Cafe in Los Olivos was recommended to us by one of the wineries. We arrived for our reservation on time and were promptly seated. The woman who had made the reservation for us had evidentially mentioned that it was my friend's birthday, thus procuring us a prime table by the bar where we could have a good look at anyone coming or going. The atmosphere is nice, nothing fancy, but seemed warm and comfortable. We brought our own wine, which the server corked for us, and we offered the owner a glass, (we were told by the winery making our reservation that the owner liked the wine that we had planned to take to dinner) which he graciously accepted. He then sent over a free appetizer. It was a corn mush wrapped green pepper with cheese on it. It was huge! And rather bland. My friend, not having a lot of dining experience, was so enamored by the "free" appetizer, I'm not sure she cared what it tasted like.

When it came time to order, I ordered the halibut off the menu, my friend ordered the duck. I asked to have the halibut grilled, but the owner told me he didn't have a grill (huh...? we were told this was a great restaurant? I sort of think a grill is necessary to be a great restaurant these days). After we ordered, I noticed the owner wandering the room, talking to people, and focusing especially on a table with 2 cute women, who also happened to be visiting for the weekend. He sent over the same free app. that we had received, and the 2 women were also surprised at the size, and only ate about 1/4 of it. As we waited for our food, I noticed the owner continually flirting with these 2 women, who seemed flattered by the attention. When he wasn't flirting with them, he was chatting up me and my friend, who was excited to be "at the chef's table", as she assumed that must be why he was paying so much attention to us. (hey, we're cute girls, but we ain't models!)

My halibut came baked in a butter sauce. The sauce was good, if not innovative. The fish, however, was HUGE! and just about 2 seconds short of being overcooked. After skipping the bland app., I was starving, so I did consume more than 1/2 of it. My friend had the duck, which was presented as one side of a duck, scored and placed on the plate. Again, a gigantic portion, but she said it was very good (it didn't look great, the plating was lousy) and ate the entire thing (I don't eat meat, so I have to take her word for it).

The desserts were... not great, but it's hard to complain when the dessert's free, thanks to my friend's aging. A caramel pudding (not sure what it was supposed to be), which had the consistency of thick caramel sauce from the grocery store before it's heated up, and was way too sweet, topped by bananas. The temperature of the dessert was odd, too. The caramel was cool in the center, but the top was room temperature. Our other dessert was a chocolate pie, hard as a rock! As we were leaving, I noticed a lot of "locals" saying how much they enjoyed their meals and shaking the hand of the owner. I was surprised, maybe we just came on an off night, but I can't say I'd go back again. Perhaps if the owner had been checking in with the kitchen instead of spending the entire evening flirting and chatting, our food would have been better.