LEAF BLOWER MONDAY

Yes, it's time for your regular (this is the first edition, actually, but I'm looking forward) Monday lucky dip of random thoughts and cutting-room floor nonsense to start the week. 


Had dinner with friends at Miceli's italian restaurant on saturday night; certainly known as one of the hipper spots to be found in LA on a weekend. We entered the place exhausted, having had to push through the mob of paparazzi waiting outside for possible celebrities to come out. What I can tell you is that if there were any celebrities exiting the joint, they were probably looking ahead to a night of intense flatulation and indigestion, judging from the fare that was served up at our table. I had a lasagna that seemed to have been made by untalented children. The pizza was ordinary and the only thing throbbing more fearfully than my stomach when it was all over was my head, thanks to the Grammy-nominated performances (think Taylor Swift) being handed out nonstop by the gallant waitstaff. The only problem was that for all his singing, we barely saw our man at our table. He seemed a charming waiter when we arrived, only to then be completely disinterested in the job of waiting. A drab experience all round. I suppose that's what you get when you go to the hottest, trendiest places- the thrill of being there trumps the food and service. I definitely felt an enhanced sense of celebrity as I left. Victoria even let me sleep in the bed that night.


I can hear the gentleman with his gasoline-powered leafblower outside as I write my essay today. For heaven's sake, really?? Have leaves become so intransigent, so immovable and pugilistically resistant to outside forces that we are now forced to build a machine in order to move them clear of our walking thoroughfares? I'm sure the gentleman wielding this deadly foliage-clearing instrument is a lovely fellow, but every time that metallic whine starts up my own whining kicks in: haven't his employers heard of a broom? We don't need more noise/air pollution, especially in the City of Wheezing Angels. Enough.


Aidell's sausages. I don't normally give plugs on this post, unless of course I'm being paid to do it, but if any of you are sausage lovers like myself - links, patties, I don't give a hoot - you must go to your local crappy supermarket (we have a Ralphs close by) and pick up any of the flavors on offer. I don't know what kind of love Mr.Aidell is making with these swine but they taste superb.


If any of you have missed this video of George Bush jr wiping his and on Bill Clinton's shirt after shaking a local Haitian's hand, you're in for a treat. Mr.Bush likes to talk about how he's a 'regular guy', albeit one with an upcoming billion dollar inheritance who has never worked a day in his life (that assessment includes his time in the White House) but on this occasion his unconscious reflex action gives him away. It very well may be that the hand he just shook was dirty, but any person with reasonable intelligence and sensitivity would at least try to wipe their hand discreetly, and maybe not on the shirt of the guy standing next to you, who happened to be President at one point. Alas, Georgey never did possess great mastery over his own latent, tone-deaf social retardation and as a result we have a wonderful piece of footage for future generations to enjoy.


Speaking of the news (I guess we weren't), wonderful to see the Republican Party start to do what they've always done best in recent times: self-destruct. Michael Steele, RNC president, has been frequenting strip clubs. Sarah Palin is front and center again (always good news for Democrats), trying to keep the line-towing, sycophantic, right wing automaton-but-still-a-Maverick John McCain in the Senate, and every other Republican is doing their best John McEnroe impression ("you cannot be serious! The Bill was out! You are the pits of the Earth!") without the humor, charisma and quality net play. Added to that, their current best hope for a reasonable election result in 2012 rests with Mitt Romney. Mr. Romney has spent a year bashing a healthcare bill that is almost identical to the one he supported and signed off on in Massachusetts and is now backtracking furiously. He is another sham, a corporation posing as a human being who, thanks to his predilection for adopting whatever ideology will get him elected, will probably not even make it through the Republican presidential primaries. Who's next? Sarah Palin? Mike Huckabee? It's a veritable smorgasboard of mediocrity.


But back to Miceli's for a moment. Over dinner the discussion, as always happens when friends gather over a meal, turned to whether or not it's true that black men are more generously dangled than their white counterparts (I won't even include Asian men here, although I think that comment will land me in hot- or in this case very cold- water). Not only did the research done on Iphones at the time conclude that yes, they do tend to be larger but that there is also a specific reason behind the phenomenon.


It turns out that a man's penis is also a conduit for the release of body heat! Given that African males have lived for the longest in hot climates, their.... heat-releasers, if you will, are the biggest!


There is an unfortunate flip side to this, however.....


The same study concluded that, as a result, SCANDINAVIAN men are the most likely among the caucasian races to have small penises! I found that unbelievable, seeing how large and strapping most Scandinavian men are, but... that's what the research showed. The Asian story is unclear- there are extremely hot and cold conditions across the Asian continent. I'll leave that for another day. Feel free, dear readers, to leave your comments on this story. I've only slept with one Scandinavian man. His name was Carl, he was from Sweden, and he was hung like the proverbial rogue elephant.


But there are always exceptions. Ladies, next time you meet a tall, handsome Norwegian man who triggers virile fantasies of Viking conquest, remember this post...