Thursday, July 24, 2008

The People

Since coming to LA, I've slowly been getting to know the people. What are they like?


For the most part, they're very friendly. Especially in Pasadena. Actually, it's scary how friendly they are in Pasadena. Don't go into The Container Store in Old Town unless you want an hour chat with the staff. In the Northeast, no one talks to you unless they know you. Here, everyone is your best friend. Like you're standing in line to buy some rotisserie chicken -- suddenly you and the girl next to you are chatting maniacally about Cyndie Lauper. You haven't talked about Cyndie Lauper in years. Why are you even talking about Cyndie Lauper? You're being fumigated with the smell of rotisserie chicken. Get out of there! But you can't because you've got your new best friend. I guess standing in line in LA is sort of like face-to-face online chatting. Easy come, easy go.


People in SoCal talk loud. Real loud. And they're standing right next to each other. They also don't seem to have a good understanding about boundaries. Like private property boundaries. You'll find old women spreading out the contents of their purses on your car. Your landlord pops up anytime of the day, unannounced, usually while you're eating, wanting to talk about taking pics of caulking. Yes, caulking.

"You have a camera? Great. Come and take the picture now."

Who cares that you're right in the middle of lunch. He had his -- what does he care about you?

He even pops over with a friend, scaring the daylights out of you as you work outside on the secluded back porch, just so he can show his friend how cute the porch is.

You couldn't have knocked?

"Don't worry, dear. We won't bother you at all."

You're bothering me now!

You begin to think of him as The Creep Man. You're even thinking of putting him in your graphic novel. He'd be the perfect poster child of the Pain-in-the-Ass Guild.

Then there's the neighbor who lets her dog wander in and out of other people's backyard. Including yours, which the dog likes because the dog was once a stray that used to hang out near your house. So it lingers and lingers and lingers. The dog wondering if the owners who dumped it near your house will ever come back. I miss you. (Whine! Whine!) And you wonder if that's the dog who was responsible for the dried up shit you found the other day near the car. Which is better than fresh.


About Pasadena being so friendly? The exception is the Gamble House. Totally different creatures there.

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