Thursday, July 01, 2004

5:30 this morning, the crazy neighbor downstairs started up again. Creating a mini-earthquake in his apartment by slamming things, cursing about it, and slamming some more. I went down and tried to talk to him, which was very surreal, 'cause his wife and him started arguing about whether he was gonna come to the door. He told her to let me in, she said no, he went to the door, she told him to put clothes on. I didn't want to come in, esp. if Jerkus Berzerkus was nekkid. Finally, I politely told him thru the door that even with my fan going full blast and earplugs in, I could hear his conniption fit and please... keep it the fuck down. I was still groggy and I think he started in with some weird shit about the root of life and what was important in life. Don't get philosophical with me, I said. Then in a brief moment of clarity, I said a basic need of life is sleep, motherfucker. Don't deny me of it.

I normally like the guy and can bullshit with him like that. But he is strange. Gets up at all hours of the day to do craftsman shit, like decorate this mailman truck they have out front. It's painted bright blue and completely adorned with magnets and trinkets and stuff -- a conversation piece on wheels. Why couldn't he work on that project, on the other end of the building... under Avi's apartment. Yeah, that would be the next step, to fink him out to the landlord, but I had enough odd conversations prior to 6AM. (btw, I love that idea someone left in earlier comments of paying some kid to knock on Avi's door at 3AM, but the guy downstairs is first on the prank list.)

Sorry, these rants aren't more compelling, but hey, it is my credo -- I type, I gripe. Now some hype:

If you're in LA and you're on, say, your third or fourth date, take the girl to Off Vine in Hollywood. That's for when you've been hitting it off with her but you need the somewhat fancy dinner to seal the deal. She'll love the quaint homey romantic ambience and you'll be enjoying the food -- not a bad dish on the menu. Order the raspberry soufflet ahead of time and I tells ya, you're in like Collin Farrell.

Of course, I was just with the family, which was y'know, nice, too. Crazy Uncle Barry and the rest kvelling over the simple decorations of the restaurant. I kinda wanted to go to Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles instead, but yes, the craftsman style house of Off Vine is lovely indeed. I'm just nodding, thinking about how I gotta take a date here. Maybe if I did, it wouldn't be nutso downstairs that was keeping me up this morning.


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