iGallery Augury

I’ve realized that these days almost all my posts are about the flea market – meaning that I post once a month. So just to break the pattern, I will post something else, even though I went to the flea market yesterday. Instead, here it is a random selection of iPhotos with a nonsensical commentary. Enjoy. Or not. It’s all the same to me.


The world will end in 2411. Don’t you believe me? You fool.


I have irrefutable evidence – I divined it myself from this double egg yolk. It’s so obvious.


The Heavens will split open,


and the Earth shall rupture.


From the depths of the Sea,



the beasts will rise.


Humankind will be split into two, to be sent to Heaven


and Hell.

Or did I mix the two up?

Papoo's Hot Dog Show

Is no more. And that makes me sad.


Papoo's still stand on the corner of Riverside and Rose at the edge of Toluca Lake and Burbank.


There used to be a cool sign up front, but it's gone already.


I had breakfast at Papoo's a few times after friends of mine moved to the neighborhood. It was nice cozy place, and the food was way better than at Bob's Big Boy across the street.


I don't know what happened, but I'm guessing it might have something to do with the economy. What doesn't.

If you want to know more you can join "Save Papoo's Hot Dog Show" on Facebook.

Summer Time

And the living is easy. Supposedly.


There's a heat wave here in L.A. The temperature hit 106º F yesterday here in the Valley. Meanwhile, Hurricane Irene is threatening to wipe New Jersey off the map. I jest.


My brain has turned to mush from the heat; no clue what to write.


So enjoy some more flea market photos.

Three

I've gotten inconveniently busy as of late. It shall pass. Till then I have random flea market weirdness.


I found these two singing trios at two different stalls, far apart from each other. They're completely different, yet similar.


Makes you think that there should have been a third somewhere, but there wasn't. Or maybe there was, I just didn't find it. Have I failed a mystical quest of utmost importance I didn't know I had?

I frequently have the feeling that reality is swooshing over my head, while I stand like a half-blind wretch in the grocery store, surrounded by blur.

I was listening to Spider Robinson's The Callahan Chronicles, and an expression jumped out at me: "flurry of triplets." I thought "What a great utterance!" and was jealous that I didn't come up with it, like Chanlder's "The streets were dark with something more than night." Then I Googled it, and apparently "flurry of triplets" is a musical term? And I was picturing three identical ankle biters turning a house upside-down.

Scandalous!

So the world didn't end. Again. I'm trying to be magnanimous about it but it's hard not to feel smug when a bunch of bigots and homophobes end up with eggs on their faces.

So instead, here are a few shocking images.

I have to admit I haven't worn pantyhose in a decade. I don't like them; wearing them makes me feel like a sausage stuffed into a plastic casing.


It makes me wonder how a thin, sheer layer nylon (or silk) could ever been the dividing line between decent and indecent.

Downtown

Nobody likes to be called in for jury duty, but it's like the flu: sooner or later you gonna get it. I had my on-call thing this week. I called in night after night and got the automated message saying that I didn't have to go in the next morning. I forgot to call in in on Thursday night, so I did in Friday morning. I found out I needed to report to the downtown courthouse 7:30 am that morning. It was 7:15. So I went to downtown instead of work. I got to the courthouse by 8:30. The clerks were just getting around rounding up the potential jurors.


So there we were in the courtroom going through the jury selection, people getting called into "the box," lawyers asking questions. There were a few colorful characters, like the skinny white boy in his very early twenties talking fluent jive 'bout homies an' stuff. The really funny part came when the plaintiff's lawyer, a black man in his forties asked the kid if he'd seen Airplane. The lawyer even quoted "I can speak Jive." If you're old like me you probably have seen the movie and remember the scene with the little old white lady translating jive to the stewardess. (If you don't, hang your head in shame.) The kid in the courtroom just said he didn't watch much television. Sadly, the hilarity of the moment zipped straight over his head.


At lunchtime I walked past the L.A. Times building. In the floor-to-ceiling window of a ground floor office sat an old front page declaring that the "ALLIES LAND IN ROME." For a second I read it as "ALIENS LAND IN ROME."


In the end I dodged the bullet and I'm no safe for a year. Good thing because all I did all day is sit on my ass and I'm exhausted.

Flea Market Fun

Flea market is like a treasure hunt: best undertook in comfortable shoes.


I struck gold again: this beautiful Underwood 4-band portable from circa the 1920's. She's a beaut, ain't she?


There was a whole lot of stuff I didn't buy, like a pile of mismatched cutlery.


Or this... teapot?


Fashionable hat.


I was tempted by the monkey, but held strong.


Yeah...


Okay, I have absolutely no idea what this is about, but I have the vague feeling that somehow it's racist.

iGallery

I took a trip to the army surplus store.

Thoughts for Food

The other week friends and I went to this Chinese restaurant in Arcadia that had dumplings with soup inside. It was delicious. I was so taken that I forgot to snap pictures.

The next day we had brunch at The Hungry Cat. This restaurant is in Hollywood, close to the Arclight Theatres there. It's damn convenient for a dinner and a movie. Or a Brunch and a movie. I'm so addicted to The Hungry Cat that if I don't go for a few months I get the shakes.


We shared oysters and octopus salad for starts. The octopus was tender and smoky.


I don't remember what this is, except that that's a duck egg.


I had Chicken and Waffles. Roscoe's is the restaurant known for this dish, but in all honesty, their chicken tends to be dry. This chicken was perfect: crispy on the outside and sinfully juicy on the inside. That thing on the top? That's butter.


There were more dishes, plus these babies. After three I was a very happy camper. We didn't have dessert. There were talks of Monkey Bread at the beginning of the meal, but by the end we were too stuffed.


However I can't end food porn without a gratuitous sweets shot. So have this from Porto's.

Btw, I'm having a strong craving for dumplings.

On The Rocks

I have no idea where this photo was taken. I found it at the flea market.