Fire Hazard PSA

Smokey Bear must've been pissed on Sunday. My friends and I decided on Saturday night that we should get our lazy asses out and go on a hike Sunday morning. Last time my friends and I went on this particular trail, we ran into Mountain Lions. They didn't attack us, but we were couple of yards away from the mother and her cub. Despite my friend's insistence to go closer to see the young mountain lion, we decided to haul our ass away from becoming lion lunch. Hence, we never got very far during our previous attempt. This time around, we encountered a different sort of hazard. The hike was uneventful until we were making our way down. I was cursing the pavement, as it was killing my thighs and butt with each impact.



Just as we made our way down, we were stretching our poor abused legs when I noticed a plume of smoke. All of us were captured in awe by the smoke that we stuck around for much longer than we should've. Once we heard the sirens of approaching fire trucks, it occurred to us that perhaps we should stop being rubberneckers and get moving.



Two hours later, the fire was on the news. Good thing we turned around when we did, or else we might have been in trouble that was just as unpleasant as getting mauled by a mountain lion.

Something tells me that we just have bad karma when it comes to this particular trail. After mountain lions and a wildfire, I'll think twice about returning there. What next? Being struck by lightning? Boulders falling? Ravenous birds carrying West Nile Virus? The possibilities are endless.

I'm a Brand Whore

Move over, Birkin. The "It" bag of the year title now goes to the humble bag designed by Anya Hindmarch and her "I'm Not a Plastic Bag" bag. Patent leather is so last year, honey; now it's all about organic cotton. Time to heal your consumerist guilt by indulging in fair trade and labor! While there is no crime in the bag's intention, I'm in awe of how this bag that costs less than $20 has ignited a whole population to become fake environmentalist. Will the real Granola please stand up? Because I know there are plenty of people that will pay upwards of $60+ for this canvas bag, and yet don't give a second thought to using a plastic bag at the checkout line. And even if they bought this canvas bag, will they actually use it to go fetch groceries? I'm willing to bet that there are people out there who will clobber me with their Prada clutches for even proposing such a blunder against the "It" bag. Such bags are not meant for everyday purposes, even if the bag was designed for it.

To be totally honest, I wanted one of these bags couple of months ago when I first learned about them. Now I'm not sure if carrying this bag has the same impact as it was originally intended. The other day, I was at Trader Joe's with my trusty Timbuk2 bag, and it was far more functional than a hyped-up bag that will never see action in a market other than being a pretty accessory for LiLo or Paris-wannabe.

However, I was thinking about buying a Zabar's canvas bag to show these trendy bitches the true Granola ways. Unfortunately, I'm not in love with Zabar's design, so I might look for a giant tote bag to start my own trend. Just because you're doing something beneficial for the environment, it doesn't mean that you can't be fashionable doing the deed.

Photo credit: www.dailymail.co.uk

LA Highways = Atherosclerosis

One of the most granola thing I do is that I bike to work.  The ride is 7 miles each way, and majority of it is on the Ballona Creek bike path.  Not the most scenic route, but it sure beats going along traffic.  My coworkers are always baffled by my choice of two-wheeled transportation.  To me, I'm more baffled by how they spend more than an hour each way on clogged LA highway traffic just to get to work.  Three coworkers come in from OC, and one commutes from SGV.  I already spent a good couple of months commuting from South Bay to Westwood, which was painful enough.  And I was even carpooling at the time, so imagine how disgruntled I would've been had I commuted solo.

In other parts of the country, people talk about the weather when the conversation runs dry.  In LA, commuting is ice breaker topic-of-choice.  Why?  Because weather is so constant here that you can't possibly talk about the weather for very long before the crickets start to take over.  So my coworkers often talk about the traffic.  "Never take the 110 to the 10."  Or "you'll get there so much faster on the 210."  People seem to talk in code when discussing the labyrinth of LA freeways.  Almost all of my team members have a hybrid with a carpool sticker.  Sad thing is that the carpool lanes are even backed up these days, so it doesn't really help.

City Hall has many problems it needs to deal with in the near term.  However, the whole traffic madness needs some attention from Mr. Villaraigosa.  That is, when he's not too preoccupied with his girlfriend.  In the meantime, I'll continue to bike to work and aim to build my leg muscles.

Photo credit: LA Times

Maiden Post

Endless sprawl, bad traffic, smog, and celeb-wannabes come to mind when speaking of Los Angeles.  While there is much to complain about LA, the city's virtues are not completely lost on yours truly.  After spending a year down here, I feel as though I have gained valuable perspective that I would've missed had I stayed where I was previously.  There have been things that I've seen, read, or heard that I wished I had written down somewhere.  The purpose of this blog is still unclear to me, but I'm hoping that things that are expanding my perspective will be conveyed through the ranting, bitching, and complaining that will occur on this blog.

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Today's post will be about my thoughts about humane mouse traps.  They are absolutely asinine, because these traps are anything but humane.  When I had to dispose a little furry friend last Friday night, I was left with some undesirable options.  One was to bash it with a broom mercilessly.  This was not so tasteful, as it would've left rather ugly blood smears on the wall that I'd have to clean up after.  Second was to drown it.  But did I really want to hear it gurgling for dear life, its soul fading away in small bubbles?  Not exactly my idea of a fabulous Friday night.  The third options was to double bag the sucker and tally ho out to the garbage can.  I went with the last option.

For the next 24 hours, the mouse sat in a doubled-up plastic bag inside a garbage can, with its head stuck in the trap.  I kept going back to poke at the bag, because I'm a masochist that way, but could never muster the energy to deliver a quick death.  Fortunately, the trap that is now set in the same place is the kind that can kill instantly.  The thing is ferocious looking and it makes me hopeful that it will do the job expeditiously.

As for the goldfish that passed yesterday, I do not know how speedily deliverance came.  I hope Richardson didn't suffer a slow death, though I did change its water 8 hours prior to the time of doom.  Perhaps it didn't sense the physiological changes and went into a coma.  If I had a choice in the matter, I'd like to go quickly.  And if it can't happen quickly, I'd like to be completely clueless that the inevitable is coming by way of a federal government agency.

Speaking about death in my first blog post might not be the most appropriate, but it's the Item of the Day on the menu, and this is how it goes.  Maybe talking about the finish line is a juxtaposition to the start of something new and entertaining.

Edit: The picture above was not taken by me.  It is only for visual purposes only.  In my case, picture a crazed mouse flopping madly to get the trap off its head while sh*tting away.

Photo credit: All4Humor.com