Earlier today I was rollin' through the hood to find the boys, to kick dust and cuss, crank up some noise...

Oh, wait. I'm not in LA anymore am I? (You get bonus points if you know the artist and song title -- and don't Google it to find out either!)

Sooo... I was actually driving my sister's SUV to a natural foods store, you know, the place with a dozen kinds of tofu and zero foods with high fructose corn syrup. My mom was in the passenger seat and my boys were in the back, chatting up a storm.

We were cruising along quite nicely till all of a sudden, traffic came to a standstill due to road construction. My mom was looking out the passenger side window and I followed her gaze. That's when I saw a brother in a green Mercedes staring at us. He looked to be in his early to mid thirties and was neither attractive nor ugly. He looked like the "friend" type.

And then he smiled at us. Because I was in the driver's seat, I thought he was smiling at my mom! I couldn't help but think, "Oh my god! This guy is flirting with my mom!" She found the whole thing hilarious and started laughing. I laughed too because every time our cars pulled up alongside each other, there he was smiling and winking.

Finally I got sick of him, his smiles and his winks. I changed lanes so that he was behind me. Then, he changed lanes so he was on the driver's side just as we passed the last of the road construction. I sped away but he finally caught up with us at a stoplight. He then started motioning for me to roll down the car window. I did, but only because I started thinking he was maybe someone I'd gone to high school with or somehow knew. I have a notoriously bad memory, so heck, it could've been.

But nope, all he wanted was my name and phone number. He was cool when I yelled back that I'm married because after wishing me luck and telling me how my husband's a lucky man, he turned left as I kept driving straight on.

The whole thing gave me and my mom a good laugh, especially when my eldest son said, "Why did that weirdo want your phone number?"

It also got me thinking about how difficult it is for so-called "weirdos" to be single and find someone nice to be with. I have a few very good friends who are single guys or gals and they are going through the "find somebody" desert right now. I don't know where the oasis is for my single friends, but I wouldn't suggest cheesing it up on a busy city street as a tactic for meeting anybody either.

I don't need to tell them that because they already know this. Still though, meeting someone decent is incredibly difficult for them. Too many game players, crazies, immature people, controlling folks and people who flirt, flirt, flirt but then act like they've just been trying to be a good, platonic friend.

So, you tell me: what should my friends do to meet someone that isn't seriously a psychopath and dying to keep them in a cage in their bedroom closet?

Eavesdropping on Men

There are two sets of guys sitting on either side of me in this cafe.

To my right is the gay couple. Or rather, I would say that one of them wants to be a couple but the other one is more interested in playing the field a bit more. The one that wants to play the field is, um... he's ridiculously hot. Tall, stylish, dark hair, dark eyes. He's got a slight accent, looks like he could be from somewhere in North Africa. Oh, and he has on some fly, nice-fitting blue jeans. I felt like a shallow Angeleno because even I was checking him out, thinking, "Ah hah! This is exactly why I live in Hollywood!" -- until he ruined the eye candy by ordering lox and cream cheese on a bagel. Eww. That's as bad as mayonnaise in my book.

Five minutes later his boy toy showed up and I think every woman (and a few guys in here too) sighed with some, "He's taken!" disappointment. I immediately didn't think they're a serious couple yet because Boy Toy is a little too needy acting and Ridiculously Hot seems a bit detached from it all.

Sure enough, Boy Toy started whining about, "When are we gonna make things official?"

Ridiculously Hot only replied, "Make what official?" Oh, this is not good.

Ten minutes later, Boy Toy is leaning across the table begging, "You should just move in with me. I don't know why you don't." I know why, Boy Toy. There's a book about it. It's called, "He's Just Not That Into You".

Indeed, Ridiculously Hot is looking sooo checked out and is just focusing on his food. He occasionally mumbles things like, "I'm not trying to get so deep over breakfast, Frank."

Frank -- a/k/a Boy Toy looks like he might either throw something or cry. Wow, somebody's whipped!

In the meantime, the two guys to the left of me talking about how outrageous rents are in my neighborhood. One guy, let's call him "iPod Ears" (because he has his earbuds in), just told his friend, "X-Files Nerd" how he's still living with his girlfriend but wants to move out because he can't stand her anymore. However he can't afford it.

"I might as well stay with her crazy ass because rent is just ridiculous around here nowadays." That's just cold, iPod Ears. Cold hearted!

"What do you do? Crash on the couch every night?" says X-Files Nerd. See, this is why I called him X-Files Nerd. This is obviously a good guy and he is not up on Hollywood survival scheming because he's still watching the X-Files every single night, caught up in Scully's hotness!

iPod Ears continues his coldness, "Nah, I still sleep with her because it's her name on the lease. I don't want her to suspect anything and kick me out."

"Sleep with her, as in you're still sleeping with her?" Oh, X-Files Nerd, you're a man after my own heart. I love your slightly shocked intonation.

"Uh, yeah dude." If I could see iPod Ears' face, I'm sure he'd be rolling his eyes. "I mean, she's totally effing pscyho, but I might as well get it while I can. You know?"

So, a tale of two sets of men. Two different situations. Two different hearts getting broken. I wish I had iPod Ear's girlfriend's email so I could send her this post. As for Boy Toy and Ridiculously Hot, they just walked out together.

I guess being seen with someone so hot is good enough for Boy Toy. He brings his heartbreak on himself.

Voices Carry

Sound really carries in my neighborhood at night. I don't know if it's an effect of the hills around here or if smoggy air has more sound conducive properties, but I'm constantly overhearing the most random conversations.

I just heard one of my neighbors talking to a guy right underneath my living room window. She and her roommates aren't particular favorites of mine. I readily admit they aren't as bad as Crazy Claudia, the compulsive vacuumer who used to live across the hall. Claudia hated Black people and loved to stomp up and down the stairs as loudly as possible. Nothing can top Claudia's madness.

But, these current neighbors just have that vibe that they're really trust fund brats who run a meth lab out of one of the bedrooms. One of the guys spends a lot of time hanging in front of our building in his wife beater t-shirt. The other guy always looks totally wasted and only grunts when I say, "Hello".

The girl who lives with them is the type that thinks she's hot because ages ago some delusional soul told her she was the stuff. Oh, and her favorite outfit is a pair of cowboy boots with bare legs and a baby doll mini dress. That goes over really well when she walks by my sons.

I imagine she had on one of her baby doll dresses while she was having her little chit-chat right beneath my living room windows. I wasn't 100% paying attention to her inanity about some audition she screwed up and how depressed she was about it. What did catch my ear was that there was a weird pause where they suddenly weren't talking. I hadn't heard footsteps walking away or heard the door to our building slam shut.

Hmm...No one walked away. No one went inside either. No one was talking.

I don't have to be Sherlock Holmes to guess they must have been kissing because the silence was broken when I heard him say, "So can I come in?"

Ladies and gentleman, it was a classic case of a guy trying to charm his way into a woman's apartment so he can get some!

I couldn't help but think, gosh, is that how easy it is? I guess straightforwardly asking works because next thing I knew, I heard her seductively ask,"What about your girlfriend?"

He had the decency to pause before he chuckled and replied, "Well... she's not really my girlfriend anymore."

Whoa! Hold up, neighbor gal! Come back down to earth! He's LYING! If you ever hear a guy say such a thing, you know that his girlfriend is probably sending him unsuspecting text messages like, "Do you want me to pick up some flowers for your mom on my way home from work tomorrow?" That's why his phone is on silent and why he was gone in the bathroom for 10 minutes while y'all were out to dinner. You see, he was talking to his "not really my girlfriend" girlfriend! Besides, if you need to ask about a man's girlfriend, that's a sign you need to repeat three times, "His girlfriend may be crazy, track me down and slash my tires!"

Not scary enough for you? Okay, how about, "His girlfriend might be crazy and try to cut up my face with a razor blade!"

Before you say that sort of stuff only happens in the movies, trust me, I've known people it's happened to. So I'm just saying, it's something to think about. Is 10 minutes of fun worth getting your face scarred up?

Obviously to Tramp-o-La it is. She upped the booty call ante with some more purring. "All you want to do is talk?"

Eww! But that's when I heard her keys jingle. He started giggling like a goof ball and so did she. I heard the downstairs door open and slam shut and then they tramped through our hallway.

I think I might shut my windows and throw on my iPod so I don't have to accidentally hear any other, ahem, noises tonight.

On the Phone With Mama

I have a deep, dark confession to make: I'm one of those annoying people that talks on their cell phone while grocery shopping.

This morning I woke up and realized we had no fruit in the house. So, I went over to our local supermarket and got sticker shock when I discovered that a box of clementines was $9.99! I was really annoyed but I wanted those clementines!

I decided to call my mom. And, then I wandered the aisles, talking on the phone to her and complaining about the overpriced clementines. I'm sure I must look like I'm a crazy lady talking to myself since I'm using my hands free device. I didn't care though. I heard about my mom's Thanksgiving, complained about the clementines even more and stuck almonds, tea and chocolate in my cart.

I wandered back to the produce section and stared at the clementine display. Seriously, that's a whole lot of ducats for a box of twenty or so little oranges. Seems like they should come gold plated or something for that kind of money.

My indecisiveness about buying clementines was abruptly ended when a heavily tattooed guy with a shaved head, wife beater t-shirt and sagging pants walked toward me, made eye contact and mouthed, "You're so f***ing sexy!"

Yes, it was clearly time to stop complaining to my mom about the clementines.

He proceeded to try to spit game at me. "What's your name?"

Time to get out of dodge and go home.

As I hope you know, guys don't take rejection too well. If women don't smile and giggle at their stupid lines then some of men want to call women a bitch (or worse). One minute a woman is hearing, "You're sexy," and the guy's all, "Lemme talk to you for a second".

But the next minute, after it's clear that being called "sexy" is not being taken in a complimentary manner, sexy can turn into, "Well f*** you then, you bitch ass ho!"

With that in mind, let me tell you: shopping while talking on the phone came in handy today.

I've learned a thing or two while living out here and working in the neighborhoods I've worked in. I've learned that certain types of guy, particularly those from a certain LA background that sport shaved heads, tats and the whole nine, well those guys, they love their mamas.

Mama is up in the church praying for him. Mama still makes him breakfast. Mama listens to his problems and gives him advice that he knows he should listen to. So, do whatever, say whatever, but you don't mess with mama.

I winked conspiratorially at this guy and, whispered back, "Yo, I'm on the phone with my mom."

His whole demeanor changed. He was instantly contrite, apologetic even. "Oh, sorry. Sorry!" And then he scooted off toward the bananas.

Ladies, if you're ever in a similar situation, and I'm sure you will be, make sure to tell those guys you're on the phone with mama. As for me, I put my clementines in my cart and headed for checkout!

Do You Believe in Soul Mates?

It's so foggy outside that I can barely see out my window. It's the kind of weather that has me wrapped in a blanket, sitting on my couch, channel surfing. I just caught the tail end of "The Bachelor" finale and a brief snippet of Tila Tequila on the Tyra Banks Show.

There's a whole lot of supposed searching for love happening on TV these days: Flavor of Love, Rock of Love, I Love New York, A Shot at Love With Tila Tequila, and of course, the aforementioned Bachelor.

The guy on "The Bachelor" didn't pick either woman. He decided he wasn't "in love". Both women cried and sobbed about how they didn't understand how he could be walking away from what they have.

Are they for real or just hoping they can get their own reality shows and extend their own fifteen minutes of fame? I just don't get what these women think they have. To me, you've got a guy who's been busy making out with a bunch of women. You've got a guy who's been laughing to himself over the cat fights the women have been having. You've got a guy who's asked a group of women to disrespect themselves, all for him. All for love.

So girls, thank God that he decided he didn't want you because not one of these "relationships" has turned out.

And why haven't they panned out? Well, if I was a guy, I'd have a hard time respecting any woman who let me roll like that. "Go ahead and kiss all on a bunch of other women but I'll be waiting right here for you honey!" Yeah, if I'm a guy, I'm programmed to believe that only hos are cool with stuff like that.

And as a woman, could I respect a guy who's also whoring himself out in pursuit of some sort of "true love"? Would I really believe this man was in love with me? Heck no!

I know, these shows are not about love, but are instead on some level about the search for fame. I get that. But they perpetuate some of the stuff we believe about love.

For example, do you believe that everyone has only one true love, one soul mate? Because these shows are all supposedly about helping someone find their soul mate.

The young lady who babysits for me asked me on Saturday night what I thought about this whole soul mate thing. It was 2 AM and I was driving her home. She's beautiful, single and highly frustrated with finding "true love" in Los Angeles. She didn't even have to go into details about the clowns she's meeting. I was able to list them out for her:

1)Men who are really only interested in sex but know women want love so they front like they want love too.
2) Men who want to act like they own you and you need their permission to breathe.
3) Men who act like they have to be super successful in their career before they can commit.
4) Men who think you're lucky they're even talking to you because they're such a good catch. And they let you know you're lucky.
5)Men who are so insecure that they can't stand it when you're more successful than they are.

I could tell I sort of disappointed her when I told her that I didn't know for sure about the whole soul mate thing. I told her how I think we've gone overboard in our culture with believing in the lightning strike, highly romantic ideal of true love, that I've tried to be much more practical and level headed about Love with a capital "L".

"Practical?" she asked. "As in you don't really love your husband, it's just a practical arrangement?"

Um, no. Not that. It's just that that "spark" thing isn't enough. That spark isn't going to keep anybody married. After all, I'm sure everyone Pam Anderson has married has really believed they had that special "thing" with her. And then, kaput. Divorce.

I told my babysitter how for me, I learned it was just too easy to get carried away by that instant spark of attraction. I'd then forget to ask the tough questions surrounding who that person really was, what they were really about, what did they really care about?

No, the lightning bolt sort of thing never turned out well for me. To tell you the truth, it made me feel mentally ill. Then I'd ignore all sorts of big red flags because of that magical lightning bolt... and then I'd find out some sort of insanity about the person and before you know it, I'd be plotting my revenge on a guy. My motto was, "You make my life miserable, I'm gonna make you wish you were dead." But that takes a whole lot of energy and wastes a lot of time.

So I had to learn to be more level headed, get to know someone as a friend first and see past the mirage of that chemical reaction that happens when you feel that spark. I had to take a step back and learn to analyze men very carefully. Grill them like nothing else and grill myself too. After all, it's really difficult to figure out who you are as a woman and what you really want in a world that has so many jacked up images of women and men...and "love".

What do you think? do you believe in soul mates, true love, following the spark? Or no?

Possessed by the Santa Ana Winds

I'm watching news coverage of the fifteen fires that are at this moment raging through Southern California. Right now they're showing live footage of a trailer park in Santa Clarita that just started burning fifteen minutes ago. I can make out a lone fireman holding a hose on flames that are being blown by the gusting Santa Ana winds. It just looked like he had to run for his life as the flames came rushing towards him.

I am terribly afraid of fire. When my apartment building caught on fire this past spring I totally freaked and had nightmares about being trapped in a burning building for a few weeks afterwards.

Fire isn't picky. It doesn't matter if you live in a trailer or a Malibu castle, all those memories and cherished possessions will burn. My heart goes out to the hundreds of thousands of people that have been evacuated so far.

But there's something that has weighed on my mind today more than anything else. More than flames, more than the hot dry winds of the devil. It's something that makes me feel ill, sick to my stomach, and profoundly sad.

I was visiting someone today that I've known very well for several years. And, while she was out of the room, her husband started asking me questions about my workout regimen. I told him about my love affair with Violet Zaki tapes and jogs at the park. Then he said, "You look really good. Really strong."

"Okay. Um. Thanks." I was immediately on my guard. I felt a weird vibe in the way he said it, in the way he was looking at me.

Then he reached out, rubbed my arm, told me I looked sexy and asked, "So when can I take you out?"

I tried to make a joke. I said something like, "Hah hah. You're too funny. But I'm so busy, I have no time to go out anywhere."

Laughing uncomfortably when nothing is funny, when all I wanted to say was, "What the fuck is your problem?"

Surely I was wrong about what I was experiencing with this man while his wife, who I love and respect immeasurably, was out of the room? But no, he tried to grab on my arm again and said, "At least let me take you out to coffee."

I pulled my arm away and replied, "I quit drinking coffee last year after my brother's suicide."

He didn't give up. "So let me take you to dinner then. You like Italian food, right?"

I answered that the next time I go out for Italian food it'll be with my husband. I kept talking. Rambling, really as I elaborated on my husband by sharing, "You should see how in shape he is now! He's gone from a 34 waist to a 30 since February!" I kept on talking about my husband and how he needs to take me out on a date sometime soon. I tried to keep it light, tried to make sense of what I was experiencing, and then, praise God, a few seconds later, the wife came back.

I talked to her for a couple more minutes and then made up a lie so I could escape. She was wreathed in smiles, no worry in her eyes as she gave me a warm hug goodbye. No sign of having overhead the horrible words I'd just heard.

Hours later, I feel so personally violated. And what am I supposed to say the next time she asks me to come over and visit? I truly admire this woman and it just breaks my heart because I'm sure this can't be the first time her husband has pulled some crap like this.

I can't make any sense of it. I can only think that this misguided husband has been possessed by the Santa Ana winds, the Santana winds.

Yes, he must be possessed by the winds of Satan. Otherwise, what would cause him to behave in such a way?

I Know I Look Good...But Not THAT Good!

From the title of this post, you can clearly discern that my ego is slightly out of control. It's just that I can finally add the following to my future obituary:

"So beautiful, she once caused a fender bender on the corner of 89th and Hoover"

Yes, that's right.

I was standing on the corner, waiting to cross Hoover Street so I could get in my car and head back to my office. I'm looking both ways as any good jaywalking pedestrian should. A couple of cars drive by, and then I see a very nice white car with tricked out rims crossing through the Manchester/Hoover intersection a dozen or so yards north of me. The driver's side window's down. R.Kelly's "I'm A Flirt" is blasting. Brotherman is bobbing his head to the beat...till he sees me and starts hanging out the window, hollering at me.

"Hey! Hey, girl!"

Do men really think women are going to respond to this? I know I've posed this question before, but I just don't get it! Do men seriously think a sista's going to just leap off the curb in response?

"Oh baby! I've been waiting my whole life for you to drive by and holler at me!" Yeah, right.

To be fair to our driving friend, I probably did seem to be some sort of ethereal vision of loveliness. I might have hollered at me too! After all, we each have those days where we think we look absolutely amazing.

In fact, I felt so fly, I was having one of those, "Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?" kinds of days. It must have been the dress...

Ok, I'll stop trippin'. Let's face it, even if I had three hairy warts on the middle of my forehead and was missing my front teeth, some man somewhere would take it upon himself to holler out his car window.

I'm not interested. At all. Ever. So, I ignored him. No smile. No nod of acknowledgement. Nothing.

He did not give up.

Instead, this fool started leaning out the window a little more. And as his car moved forward, in order to maintain eye contact, he had to turn his head and body in order to look back at me. He started to yell, "Hey Now! Shaaa--"

I'll never know what gems of wisdom were going to be shouted my way because the next thing I heard and saw was...

CRASH!

Oops. Someone forgot the importance of keeping your eyes on the road at all times in case traffic slows or stops.

I have no idea why the car in front of Mr. Crashtastic slowed down. Believe me, I didn't stick around to witness the fender bender fall-out. I made a beeline across the street, jumped into my car, did a u-turn and zoomed away.

Just think, if this man had just chosen to be respectful and keep his eyes on the road, his front bumper might have been spared. And the back of the car he hit? Even though he wasn't going that fast, it was pretty smashed.

Clearly, the moral of this story is, even if the most beautiful girl in the world is waiting to cross the street, just remember that car insurance is expensive in California and people like to sue out here.

The other driver is probably already consulting a lawyer. "Ow! My neck! I think I have whiplash!"

Fellas, keep your eyes on the road! Please, no more hollering out your car windows for the rest of 2007!

The Cars Drive By With The Boomin' Systems

Have you ever been in close proximity to a car that has their music turned up so loud that the bass is making your car windows shake? I just had the pleasure of having that experience while sitting at the red light on the corner of Gage Avenue and Central.

I could hear the car before I could see it.

"Boom!"
"Boom-Boom!"

Since I do live in California, for a second I wondered if it was an earthquake. I really wondered when my windows started vibrating and my steering wheel began to move underneath my palms.

Women are never the driver of the car. It's always some guy, probably with size issues (and yes, I do mean THAT kind of size). He probably figures that if he turns up his music really super loud, we'll all think he's incredibly manly and hot. We'll all salivate and wish we were riding along in the passenger seat, so caught up in his sexiness that we're completely oblivious to the fact that we're experiencing hearing loss.

After all, if my steering wheel is vibrating, imagine what's happening to the ear drums of anyone riding in the car?