MILF MONDAY

If I was looking to put the moves on an attractive, well-to-do woman in her mid-40s, going to Target on a Monday afternoon is where I'd start. I kicked myself last night. My alarm clock broke and I knew that meant one thing: going back to Target the next day. I was at two goddamn Targets on Saturday buying junk for my vacation. I willed myself there today. I didn't want to go, but knew I had to. The parking lot was nearly empty, as was the store itself. Inside were aisles and aisles of tanned 40-something trophy wives spending their rich husbands' dollars. Must be nice. I mean, they were everywhere. So much so I'm writing about it now. Another reason I prefer the Target on Bellflower to the one in Seal Beach. And now, a moratorium on writing about Target...


Lakers win! Lakers win! All is well.

Ran too many errands today. Not having a real job is pretty good, but hear you me, there is not enough time in one day to get everything accomplished. It's funny how I sat behind a desk from 9-5 for three years and got by just fine. Now that my schedule's wide open, I can't get shit done. Between the dishes, sweeping, going to the bank, Target (fuck, I broke my rule. Ok, starting now...), Trader Joe's, a book store run by a creepy middle-aged man, dropping off W-9 forms and emailing editors, there's not much "me" time. I suppose "me" time is from 10 p.m. until about 3 a.m. And from 3 a.m. to 11 a.m. That's when I sleep.

Food advice of the day: Trader Joe's sells these pre-packaged eggplant wraps. Normally I don't go for pre-packaged anything, but these things are something else. Slap those in the microwave for 45 seconds, douse them in whatever sauce that comes with it, and get to work. Perfect for the lunch eater on the go. Or for guys like me who shift from the desk in my office to the couch to watch the 3 p.m. re-runs of Around the Horn and Pardon the Interruption. All hail Woody Paige!

Spent way too long today filling out an online grad school application. I must be the only person under the age of 50 who thinks technology is a regression (says the guy typing on a blog). I never thought using a No. 2 pencil was all that difficult. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe cell phones and text messaging and myspace pages and owning a car and pulling out laptops at airports and coffeeshops is the way to go. It all confuses me and leaves me pining for simpler times. Wake me when they've perfected the beaming up process and hover boards are the top-selling item at Toys R Us, err, I mean, amazon.com. Those seem pretty fucking cool.

Bynum out eight weeks. This is a bummer, man.

Been thinking about this Charles Schulz doc I saw on PBS a few nights ago. Learned lots of interesting things. The thing that stuck with me the most was a quote about working. I'll paraphrase...Someone was asking him why Peanuts stuck around so long and why he didn't take vacations and relax. He said his was the kind of job that people don't quit. He didn't get into drawing to make money so he could get out of it. But he said it much, much better. It was one of the most intelligent and inspiring things I've ever heard. It makes perfect sense to those who have something inside that has to come out. Two years ago I realized that I've been writing for much, much longer than I previously assumed. It's been there for a long time and I don't see it going away. Yes, money, fame and fortune, it would be better than the position I'm currently in, but that wouldn't silence me. Nothing will. This is who I am and what I do -- money or not. I always knew I'd give in, and give in I did. I played around with music for a long time, hoping that was what I was supposed to be doing. But it's not. This is. I can't draw a lick, but my respect for Mr. Schulz is higher than ever.

Caught the premiere of Scott Baio is Old and Making a Big Mistake or whatever the hell it's called. My girlfriend says he reminds her of me. Yeah, I said, except for the thousands of Playmates he's fucked. Other than that, we're twins. But I can't totally disagree. Assuming his on-screen persona is somewhat real, I respect and understand his position. He wants to be left alone. He wants everything to just go away. He wants freedom, peace, quiet. Me too. If I had lots of dough, no real job and was a celebrity since pre-pubescence, I'd probably not want to lift a finger too. Why start now?

KING OF LOMITA

Today was a beautiful Southern California day. So beautiful in fact I decided to drive to my parents' house in Lomita. The sky was a perfect baby blue and the trucks didn't take over the stretch of Anaheim from Long Beach to Harbor City. My dad is letting me borrow clothes for an upcoming European trip, so away I went. Anyway. I loved Lomita as a kid, so much so that when I started making friends with folks in San Pedro, they nicknamed me the King of Lomita. Probably because I never shut up about it and because no one ever admits they're from Lomita. Yes, Jim Thorpe died there, but that's all anyone knows. I always made a joke about that. Lomita, where great athletes go to die. I had a park two blocks away from where I lived and hung out there a lot. I had kids my age on the cul-de-sac and we'd play hide-and-go-seek, baseball and football in the street. People in Torrance always looked at me funny whenever I'd tell them I was from Lomita, but I didn't care. If I ever get a tattoo, it's gonna be the Lomita logo -- the one with the palm tree for the "T" and underscore -- on my wrist. There came a time during my post high school years when I wanted to get out and see something else. So Long Beach it was. It was weird going back after I first moved out, but it's even stranger now. Part of me never wants to leave. That's something I hadn't felt prior to two years ago. I used to walk those streets everyday, see the Taco Bell and 7-Eleven, waste hours at the park. Not anymore. I've never been one for nostalgia, but going back to Lomita is harder each time I do it. I feel like I betrayed my town. I left for the big city and can't relate. It sucks. The drive home is always the worst. I get down and wonder why I left. I tell myself to spend more time there, go out at night and crash on my parents' couch. But I don't. The most Lomita thing happened today that made me miss my time in the little city. I took a different route home. Instead of taking PCH, I opted for the Vincent Thomas Bridge from Pedro to Long Beach. I drove down Walnut and made a left onto whatever street Devil's Ditch is on. As I was making my left, I came upon a car making a stop. I looked over. He looked over. It was my cousin Travis. He smiled real big and waved and I pointed my finger and gave him a surprised "Hey!" We kept going our separate ways. Now that my fun revolves around the closest bar and not where all the music is, it's becoming less and less important for me to be near the action. This sentiment usually fades by the time I cross over from Wilmington to Long Beach. I don't know if it's possible to love two women simultaneously, but cities is something different. Once I see those downtown skyscrapers, I know I' m home. Because of the CSULB, Long Beach has lots of transplants; I'm one of them. But a few of my friends were born and raised here and I'm sure they think I'm annoying whenever I ask them some real trivial shit, but I can't help it. I don't know the land here like I know it in Lomita. Take a walk with me down Lomita Boulevard or Eshleman and I'll tell stories for days. I'll always be from Lomita. The hard thing is coming to terms with knowing that I'm from Lomita and live in Long Beach. "From" seems so sad, like it's over and done and can't be replicated. One of these days I think I'll write a book about my time there. That said, I sure do love Long Beach, my adopted hometown.

That's the last time I ever blog about Andrew Bynum. Sorry big fella, I can't help but feel somewhat responsible for your knee injury tonight. I mean, it never happened before I blogged about you. Let's hope it's not serious. It's a long season and I turn into a miserable shit when the Lakers don't play well. That's probably the most pathetic thing I've ever typed, but it's true. I am a simple man.

Does more labels mean more hits? Let's find out.

I put my dark green sweats on in the dark. Now I see they are on backwards. That explains a lot.

Without reading one of my prior posts, a friend named Wes called today to ask me about the scene at a local coffee shop named Portfolio. He said he's noticed a new trend and wanted to start a website called hipsterorbum.com. He wants to post pictures and let the rest of the world decide is the photo is of a hipster of a bum. Good idea if you ask me. I referred him here and explained how I just echoed his thoughts a few days ago. Fucking hipsters.

I'm selling my skateboard because it sits in a closet. I tried riding it once about a year ago. I went around the block and flapped my arms for dear life. Another sign age is making me a new person.

WHOOPS!

I caught the tail end of the Lakers game last night after a fine vegetarian taco salad (with tofu!) at the Reno Room last night. The Lakers won, which is always a good thing, but the best part was the post-game interview with Andrew Bynum. If you didn't know, Bynum's a 20 year-old 7-footer who's starting to play like a superstar. Last night he seemed to come out of his shell for the post-victory interview that just so-happened to be on live TV. Some guy asks him the reasons behind the Lakers success. He lists a few things, ("Kobe's being Kobe," etc.) then says, "and LO (Lamar Odom)'s getting all the FUCKING...WHOOPS....He recovered and was grinning from ear to ear for the remainder of the interview. Maybe it was the three Fat Tires, but I couldn't stop laughing. I was amazed, stupefied. Rarely do I laugh out loud at things and almost never do I laugh for an extended period of time. This was the exception. I was in tears after the interview was over. In fact, I'm laughing as I'm typing this. In all my years and watching professional sports, I've caught one of the seven words a few times, far too few for my virgin ears. Way to go Bynum! I've been hyping you up and telling fairweather Lakers fans to watch out for you. So far you've proved me right. Your game is improving and you're dropping f-bombs on live tv. Fucking awesome. Bynum's slip reminds me why sports can be a drag and how much more fun they could be. Ditch the family shit. These are grown men, let's hear them talk like grown men talk. Football is the worst. These guys bash the hell outta each other. Finally one of them does something interesting and gets a flag thrown for celebrating. During one of the recent bowl games, a USC player was flagged after doing a flip into the end zone. This is a kid. He's scoring a touchdown in a bowl game. Basically, the highlight of the young man's life. Let him have some fun. The other team can take it. And so can the fans. Rock stars are worshipped because they have personalities. But for some dumb reason, athletes aren't afforded this. Speaking of Lamar Odom, he got busted a few times for smoking weed when he was on the Clippers. Stuff like this makes me like him even more. Ricky Williams of the Miami Dolphins. Probably seen this guy run, maybe four times in my life. But he's my favorite football player because he gets high. Why does MLB think we're so stupid not to realize how many boozers are on those teams? Open up, let's start to have some fun. Bring back the days when Red Auerbach would smoke a cigar BEFORE the game was officially over. I'm tired of pretending that, all of a sudden, jocks grow up and learn the finer points of life once they turn pro. They don't. That's why they play kids games. I hope the strong arm of the law doesn't come down on Bynum. It's just a word, one we've all heard before and one we'll all hear again. Even more importantly, as long as LO keeps getting those fucking rebounds, we'll let just about everything else slide.