I have a blog friend. PURELY from the blog world.

He’s kind of funny, check him out:
Nathan Nelson

But you know what else? He actually took the time to help out with the search for Elizabeth Smart. I am impressed. I have never done anything like that.

He gets the good neighbor/Samaritan award of the day.

Abducted Girl’s Relatives Say Her Captor Brainwashed Her

“Meanwhile, Elizabeth is playing the harp so much that she has blisters on her fingers, said Angela Smart, her aunt, adding that her niece has a new goal — to go to New York City and study music at the Juilliard School.”

I feel so much for Elizabeth Smart. I feel it in my heart, I can understand how she could have been kept with this man Emmanuel for 9 months and not escape.

Don’t abused children protect their parents? “I fell down the stairs.” And I know that when I was married to an abusive husband, I was very careful to explain away suspicious noises and defend his treatment of me.

how hard is it to believe that Elizabeth Smart turned around to defend her captor? He was supposed to be an emmisarry of God! According to himself.

Your logic is a little crazy when you are fourteen years old and kidnapped at gunpoint from your home. This man talked in the same type of language as all the respected men in her family. THose men who got up in church and talked about God will and the lost sheep and such.

It would be so comfortable for Elizabeth to believe that her captor was acting benvolently towards her.

And now, she is home. And she has to find a way for life to make sense again.

I understand how music must be such a comfort to her. Not words, not talking. Talking is too concrete and frightening. But music can give her some expression.

I pray that her family can give her the kind of support she needs.

I don’t watch reality tv too often. It just doesn’t interest me. I’m mildly annoyed by it, but not to the level that others I have heard.

I always thought, How real can this be? These people are walking around, trying to act normal while they have huge camera crews following their every move.

That’s got to be distracting. I mean, how do you ‘act’ natural? kind of an oxymoron.

Well, today I understand better than I ever have how annoying those cameras can be.

My favorite coffeeshop, the Psychobabble on Vermont has it’s open mike night sundays. I’ve been going. It’s a very cool, laid-back, accepting kind of environment. I like it.

A couple of weeks ago, a cute newcomer came, her name was Jett. She sang a few songs to her guitar, and she wasn’t half bad. She was nervous, and young, so she seemed endearing.

Well, as it happens, Jett came back tonight. Jett is a member of a sorority. And guess what else? Jett is on that show, “Sorority Life.”

My open mike night was completely invaded. They were redoing everything, re-miking, re-lighting, wandering around with release forms. I was trying to be a good sport, I let them use my face.

But the camera guy was SO intrusive. He wandered around everywhere…On the stage, behind the performers, everything.

I like Jett, and I welcome her to join the lineup, but I really wish that the fake little enactment scenes and camera crew could have not screwed up my stomping ground.

I have been admiring the new IHOP stuffed french toast from their TV commercials. They sounded yummy to me.

So when we were in the middle of Saturday’s downpout, me and Chris decided comfort food was in order. IHOP popped to mind.

We looked over the menu carefully, but they weren’t listed. We did, however, find out that the International House of Pancakes is a California company, started here. That made me like them slightly better.

I do try to maintain a snobbish avoidance of chain restaurants, but the fact that it is a local chain is slightly better.

Chris would prefer to eat at the same three chain restaurants every day of his life. Fortunately, our relationship is more than just what we eat.

We asked Maricela, our waitress about the stuffed french toast. Apparently, there is a separate flyer-type dealy that explains your stuffed toast options.

There is the regular option, and then the Big option which has two extra pieces of fatty meat. The Super option included a total of six pieces of various fatty meat.

I thought two pieces was enough, so I got the regular. Cause I was mostly interested in the toast, anyway.

Well, the toast was like two pieces of bread sealed on all the edges. You might think it would be difficult to seal two pieces of bread. It is. IHOP’s solution was to deep fry it shut.

They must have deep-fried it, and then warmed in up again on a grill, because one side had an extra browning on one side.

Well, they had fruit and whip cream on the top. THe filling seemed to be cream cheese with a lot of powdered sugar mixed in. Mine did not have a lot of filling, which is probably good, because it was very sweet. Since there wasn’t too much, it tasted pretty good.

It reminded CHris immediately of the State Fair’s deep-fried twinkies. We hadn’t actually tried the deep-fried twinkies, but we could imagine.

It was good. ALthough the grease sat on my tummy the rest of the day. I’m glad I didn’t opt for the 6 pieces of fatty meat.

Thomas Friedman was on CSPAN2 last night.

The show was really compelling. Friedman seemed to have a compassion for the Arab world that led to understanding of the situation.

I think compassion is really important in times of war…Actually, it’s important right before times of war. Which would be now.

This has been one of my difficulties in discussing the Iraq situation with folks. I know for sure that no one I have met understands the situation even fundamentally.

Yes, we know about non-compliance of resolutions. We know about the possible consequences of mass-destruction weapons.

But before you engage someone, it seems intelligent to understand their motivation.

Calling Saddam insane, which W. essentially did in his State of the Union address, is simply lazy diplomacy.

Just saying “He’s crazy! He might do anything!” is a very weak strategic position.

I don’t know if I agree with everything he said, because I haven’t checked it all out yet. But he’s the first person I’ve heard that I had initial respect for.

I just keep thinking that we haven’t really sat down and LISTENED yet.

Which OS are You?

So. I took the test. I am OS/2 Warp.

That’s pretty cool.

This is a story I did for the Highland Park News.

Colorado Boulevard has the spot for good food, friendly smiles and amazing entertainment. Colombo’s bar and restaurant, open 7 days a week, has been around since 1954. It has become an Eagle Rock institution. Regular Mary Duffy-Petersen says, “It’s almost like a party every Friday night.” Autumn Hays, who works in Glendale, comes in with her co-workers for lunch several times a week. She says her favorite night is Monday. There is a lot of excitement about coming in to Colombo’s any time.

It is true; Colombo’s has great food. The original owner Sam Colombo is the one who developed their hand-rolled lasagna recipe, along with the other Sicilian-inspired Italian dishes. Chef Raul Villasenor has been serving the people’s favorites for 16 years. But Colombo’s is more than just food.

When entering the restaurant, the smoky-mirrored walls and romantic gold-framed paintings on the wall invite pleasant relaxation. The red overstuffed upholstery and crisp white tablecloths bring to mind the glamour of Hollywood. Pretty beaded lamps light the booths, and management makes sure to put fresh flowers on every table.

The evenings are filled with music—jazz music. Every night features a talented line-up. As manager Vic Parrino said, “One of the things we are trying to offer is entertainment that you don’t have to pay for. We don’t have a cover…We hope people will be willing to drive a little farther than they would otherwise just for dinner.”

They have live music every night of the week. On Thursdays, the Fiaumara Armbrewster Quartet takes the floor. Friday and Saturday nights Linda Lopez tickles the ivories. Eric Exstrand’s trio plays Sunday and Monday, and Wednesday is the performer wildcard, featuring various local talent.

Customers love to hear the band play, and often join right in. Linda Lopez has a steady stream of vocalists coming to the mike stand at the piano. Eric Exstrand leads his band in a jam session, with all kinds of drop-in musicians joining. As one patron said: “You don’t have to be a great singer. You don’t even have to be a good singer. Everybody’s part of the party at Colombo’s.”

For those who might not be swept away into the music, or those who just want a place to talk and laugh with friends, the bar has a lot to offer. Separate from the dining area, it is a place to belly up and socialize. Tony the bartender is generous with the liquor; he makes a mean key lime martini. The TV at the end plays sports, and the painting of a lounging female nude behind the bar reminds everyone to get flirty.

Mrs. Ann Colombo still comes to the restaurant every day. When her husband Sam passed on about 5 years ago, nephew Vic Parrino took over the business. He is proud to be part of it: “It’s a tradition my aunt and uncle worked very hard to establish. There aren’t a lot of family owned businesses.” His pride is evident in the way things are done.

When Vic came to Colombo’s he brought Yolanda Nagueira in to assist. She is the one who started the entertainment line up. She made a lot of nice touches to the décor, and her friendly smile really lights up the place. More than one person can tell how Vic and Yolanda have done great things at Colombo’s.

Colombo’s is located at 1833 Colorado Boulevard in Eagle Rock. They are open 7 days a week. Monday through Friday, they are open from 11 a.m. to 11 p.m. On Saturdays, they open at noon and close at 11 p.m., and Sundays they are open from 2 p.m. to 10 p.m.

Hyperbole:
“A figure of speech in which exaggeration is used for emphasis or effect, as in I could sleep for a year or This book weighs a ton.
”

I finally figured out what’s wrong with L.A.

I’ve been here six months, and I’ve been having a little trouble making friends. I have gone out and systematically met with people. I take advantage of the opportunities that are out there.

But somehow, it’s been falling flat. A lot of people don’t really want to get together again, and I’m not that disappointed.

I haven’t really met anyone that I made a connection with.

I went swing dancing a few weeks ago for the first time at a place called the Derby. I was worried about going alone, I thought people wouldn’t be friendly.

I couldn’t have been more wrong! Lots of people were there, lots of nice men asked me to dance. Some people even sat and talked with me.

But I came away feeling a little flat. At the time I was thinking, “L.A. boys are too nice.”

Boy that is not something I would imagine myself thinking. I’m not the “bad boy” type. I really enjoy respectful, intelligent well-dressed men.

Something was wrong.

My brother Chris came to visit me yesterday. He just got back from a world tour of Orthodox monasteries.

I was really worried that our conversation would be really heavy.

I did not want to spend the evening being very serious.

So I made a point of poking fun. There is a hell of a lot that is funny about monasteries, once you stop and look at it.

And my brother has a great sense of humor! There were times when I had him cracking up. And he made me laugh, too.

I woke up this morning, and I figured it out.

NO ONE IN L.A. HAS A SENSE OF HUMOR.

That’s the “too nice” I’ve been running up against.

I love to laugh and make fun of things. The aforementioned “Hyperbole” is one of my favorites…To exaggerate something to show how ridiculous it is..I toss those little hyperboles off all the time.

And I’ve been met with blank stares and nods.

“No! It’s funny! I didn’t mean it literally!”

You can’t explain a joke. Everyone knows that. I couldn’t defend myself.

Things that are bust-my-gut funny are taken totally seriously by everyone I’ve met.

It’s starting to make me feel like a crazy person. Stupid little jokes at work, like “Boy, this coffee is so strong I think it just walked out the room and asked the boss for a promotion” don’t even illicit a groan or an eye-roll.

When you say outrageous things, and laugh uproariously ALONE, you look imbalanced.

But I suppose it’s not a surprise. Being funny is a career in Los Angeles.

Anyone that can crack a half-funny joke is locked in some dungeon somewhere churning out one-liners for That 70s Show or The Simpsons

All we are left with here in the main populace are incredibly earnest and serious peace activists, vegan animal rights people, weight lifters, motivational coaches, yoga instructors and failed actors.

Anyone that wants to laugh has to watch reruns.