I was driving down Hollywood Blvd. this afternoon, and I saw a sign on an antique store. It read, "Antiques. Modern and vintage."
Okay, again, now WHAT now? Unlike Marvin Gardens, I do not carry a camera in my car so I cannot prove this to you. If you really want to see it, it is near Hollywood and Highland, south of Hollywood. Is anyone impressed that I know south? I am.
I was driving down Hollywood Blvd. because for the eleventy millionth time, I was apartment hunting. At least apartment hunting is free. I had a big talk with Marvin G. today, about the fact that we are trying to find a place that is near work (his work, too) and that is also NOT COMPLETELY DEPRESSING. So we are probably going to have to spend more on rent than we planned. We looked at our "budget" (we don't actually have one, but we guessed) and decided on a new high number for this apartment search. I drove past a 1940s duplex that has a breakfast nook and a washer/dryer in the unit. We are looking at it tomorrow, but I am unsure of the neighborhood.
We think we are going to the sunrise service at the Hollywood Bowl tomorrow (am I getting PAID for the number of times I say "Hollywood" in this particular blog entry?), as Marv G. does not seem too keen on going to the First AME church with me. The Hollywood (ka-CHING!) Bowl is very close to us, and they release birds of peace at the end. Is this their fancy way of saying pigeons?
I am afraid that we spent $10 today to go to the Bat Cade, which is this place in our neighborhood where you stand there helplessly while this machine WHIPS balls at you and you are supposed to hit them with a bat. Once again, the bottom of my hand hurt terribly and it is again bruised and swollen. Which will make those cartwheels I plan to do nearly impossible. (I liked it better last time, when I said it'd make high five-ing people really hard. But what are ya gonna do.)
The most depressing part of said Bat Cade trip was that next to us were several little girls, I am talking 8 or 9 years old, who could bat WAY, WAY better than I could. They had their dads there cheering them on. I had Marvin saying, "Why can't you hit it? Are you even looking at it? Can you see the ball?"
I do not understand naturally athletic people. Perhaps if I had gone to a Bat Cade at 9, I would be "naturally" athletic as well. At 9 you had to pay me to put my book down and go outside. There was no Bat Cade going on for yours truly, over here.
Happy Easter, to those of you who celebrate it. Look out for bird of peace droppings.
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9 comments:
Good grief, girl. At least you're sticking with it. I'd rather be sitting at home bored than go thru that kind of torture. Ugh.
Whats a Bat Cade?
Well, dear reader, I think you must mean why do they call it a bat cade, since I explain what one is in excrutiating detail. I think is is like an arcade and a bat cage all mixed up in one. Get it? Bat cade?
Hey, June...take a sad song and make it better...remember to let her into your heart...and you begin....
anyway...I can't remember all the words to Hey Jude...
So...about the NAIR blog...did Winston's hair fall out? How does that work on your hairy lips? I have not ever Naired anything but I too used to be cute and I'm having problems with the hair on the 'ol face...and these weird Witch Hazel moles...which also get really long and mean wild hairs. I hate it. I pull out the hair with tweezers. Does the Nair burn? I so want to be cute again.
You've probably already received this a million times, but I nominated you for a little award. Pop over to my blog and check it out. I truly enjoy your writing - I read it every day!
One would have had to pry that book out of your 9 year old hands to get you to the Bat Cade. You would have gone kicking,pouting and screaming. A bribe of money would not have worked.
Hmmm. That last comment couldn't have been left by... my father, could it?
You are correct. But we also would have had to drag you away from the fish tank. An equally Herculean task.
I left that last comment--Auntie M
Now, see, it's what I was thinkin' all along: We should open an editin' company (one that obliterates all the word-endin' apostrophes fer starters) together, because we have the same sensibilities.
You see, I think I've actually written "eleventy" before, as in "eleventy millionth" (though I think I actually "wrote "eleventy thousandth"). And I also have this project, cleverly named the Sign Project, which is my personal attempt to collect photos of wacky signs, like "Antiques. Modern and vintage."
Anywhoo, seeing as you're gonna be 3x3000 time-zone-miles away from where I toil, we would make this a "World Is Flat" company, editing and proofreading excellence outsourced to your satisfaction!
It's what I do already, and it's what you and I could be doing to the nth degree should we decide to join forces.
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