I joined Twitter yesterday, and so far have been mostly puzzling over how the whole thing works. A lot of @'s and #'s and usernames I don't recognize. It requires a lot more thinking than Facebook.
So I'm not a big fan yet.
The only thing I wanted to "tweet" so far was to let a friend know that her profile photo (a bowl of almond tofu) looked yummy. But when informed that everyone would see my tweet, but that I should just do it because sending a direct message was lame, I gave up and tweeted nothing.
Did manage to find one cool thing made possible by Twitter. But I found it on a friend's Facebook page. Go figure.
Showing posts with label observations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label observations. Show all posts
Monday, August 03, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Farm Boy in Palms - Produce Heaven, Checkout Hell
Farm Boy: A quirky Korean-owned grocery store in Palms with which I have a love-hate relationship. It's on Overland Ave. about half a mile down from Trader Joe's.
A tangent: I was just going to post about the weirdness of Farm Boy. But I got sidetracked by some interesting stuff on the Web: Apparently Farm Boy is a small chain of at least two grocery stores, and its business strategy is to be near Trader Joe's. There is also a Farm Boy in Sherman Oaks also in close proximity to a TJ's.
This seems a good strategy, because the clientele that Farm Boy attracts is similar to TJ's - foodies, yuppies, well-to-do family people - and these customers are likely to be ripe (sorry) for another place to buy produce, TJ's produce section being limited to mostly prepackaged stuff. i.e. It's good for if you want a whole bag of onions, but bad for if you want just one onion.)
Now, on to what I wanted to say:
I like Farm Boy because of its focus on fruits and vegetables. The product is cheaper and better than in mainstream supermarkets, where produce is usually overpriced, impossibly big and beautiful, and inevitably tasteless. But since Farm Boy's produce is more "real," it means you have to be somewhat vigilant and choosy.
Farm Boy has become an after-work routine, a place on my way home where I stop to pick up some staples like tomatoes or avocados. If I'm famished, I splurge on one of the more pricey non-produce item that Farm Boy carries: Cheese, dried fruit, gummy candy, or some house-made Korean snack like veggie pancakes.
That is the fun part.
But when it's time to check out, some sort of subtly unpleasant exchange always manages to bring me down.
If the owner-husband is at the cash register, he rings me up so quickly - magician-like, almost - that I can't tell what he has charged for individual items, and my total always comes out higher than expected. One time, as a result of a misleadingly priced piece of cheese, I asked for a receipt. A little taken aback, he printed one out and gave it to me. During my next visit, I think he remembered me: My couple of dollars in change he basically chucked on the counter for me to pick up.
Today, I got the wife. She's nicer, though in an overly polite sort of way. When she was about to ring up some blackberries, I made sure to point out I had gotten them from the stand outside the front door, where they were priced at $0.99. Inside, in the refrigerated section, they were $1.99. She said, "Ok! 99 cents!" and rang them up. Then she looked at a little nub of ginger I had, which I had twisted off one of the two giant ginger roots available for sale (because I just wanted a little ginger, and those roots had been really big). She frowned a little, almost imperceptibly. Rang it up for $0.25.
I left feeling like I had finally shopped at Farm Boy without being taken for a ride. But then I got home and opened the blackberries. Some had a white fuzz on them already, and the ones that looked okay were already past the point of sweet. As in, too ripe and not sweet anymore, though not yet rotten.
Farm Boy: 1 point (for selling me sucky blackberries)
Laura: 1 point (1/2 point for the ginger nub and 1/2 point for avoiding getting charged $1.99 for sucky blackberries)
* Does this post make me sound like a really cheap person? If so, God forgive me. But the owners are Asian too, so they should understand. They would do the same if they were shopping there.
Photo courtesy of www.laist.com
A tangent: I was just going to post about the weirdness of Farm Boy. But I got sidetracked by some interesting stuff on the Web: Apparently Farm Boy is a small chain of at least two grocery stores, and its business strategy is to be near Trader Joe's. There is also a Farm Boy in Sherman Oaks also in close proximity to a TJ's.
This seems a good strategy, because the clientele that Farm Boy attracts is similar to TJ's - foodies, yuppies, well-to-do family people - and these customers are likely to be ripe (sorry) for another place to buy produce, TJ's produce section being limited to mostly prepackaged stuff. i.e. It's good for if you want a whole bag of onions, but bad for if you want just one onion.)
Now, on to what I wanted to say:
I like Farm Boy because of its focus on fruits and vegetables. The product is cheaper and better than in mainstream supermarkets, where produce is usually overpriced, impossibly big and beautiful, and inevitably tasteless. But since Farm Boy's produce is more "real," it means you have to be somewhat vigilant and choosy.
Farm Boy has become an after-work routine, a place on my way home where I stop to pick up some staples like tomatoes or avocados. If I'm famished, I splurge on one of the more pricey non-produce item that Farm Boy carries: Cheese, dried fruit, gummy candy, or some house-made Korean snack like veggie pancakes.
That is the fun part.
But when it's time to check out, some sort of subtly unpleasant exchange always manages to bring me down.
If the owner-husband is at the cash register, he rings me up so quickly - magician-like, almost - that I can't tell what he has charged for individual items, and my total always comes out higher than expected. One time, as a result of a misleadingly priced piece of cheese, I asked for a receipt. A little taken aback, he printed one out and gave it to me. During my next visit, I think he remembered me: My couple of dollars in change he basically chucked on the counter for me to pick up.
Today, I got the wife. She's nicer, though in an overly polite sort of way. When she was about to ring up some blackberries, I made sure to point out I had gotten them from the stand outside the front door, where they were priced at $0.99. Inside, in the refrigerated section, they were $1.99. She said, "Ok! 99 cents!" and rang them up. Then she looked at a little nub of ginger I had, which I had twisted off one of the two giant ginger roots available for sale (because I just wanted a little ginger, and those roots had been really big). She frowned a little, almost imperceptibly. Rang it up for $0.25.
I left feeling like I had finally shopped at Farm Boy without being taken for a ride. But then I got home and opened the blackberries. Some had a white fuzz on them already, and the ones that looked okay were already past the point of sweet. As in, too ripe and not sweet anymore, though not yet rotten.
Farm Boy: 1 point (for selling me sucky blackberries)
Laura: 1 point (1/2 point for the ginger nub and 1/2 point for avoiding getting charged $1.99 for sucky blackberries)
* Does this post make me sound like a really cheap person? If so, God forgive me. But the owners are Asian too, so they should understand. They would do the same if they were shopping there.
Photo courtesy of www.laist.com
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Not using online coupon codes is for chumps
My new thing is finding coupon codes for online purchases.
It takes about 15 seconds to find one. Just type into Google: "[name of online company you were about to give money to without entering a coupon code, like a chump] coupon code."
Enter it -- and poof! It's like there's money on the ground, and you just need to go to the trouble of picking it up.
Call me a penny-pincher, but I get real joy out of this. And afterward, I like to imagine what I could go buy in sushi with the money I just saved.
E.g. With the 9 bucks I saved a half hour ago on Canadadrugs.com with coupon code PPC-0207, I can now go get the following at Hide Sushi: 2 pieces of yellowtail nigiri and a vegetable roll. Or a scallop special and a tamago. Or one order of dynamite. Oh yeah!
Monday, October 06, 2008
Incivility and vegetable cream cheese
On knocking on doors for Obama in a swing state, and getting verbally knocked down*
People are mean, especially conservatives who live in gated communities in the desert. "I already got a visit from you people before. I was rude to the last guy and I'm going to be rude to you. This just pushed me over the edge: I'm voting for McCain," said the old man in the house at the end of the street, before slamming the door.
A morning's tally: 40 doors knocked on, 13 confirmed Obama votes, 6 definite pro-McCain and/or anti-Obama votes, 1 threat to call the police, and 1 young woman who said through a metal door that she hates Obama because "he's the reason [she] went through hell in the foster care system." That's not to say that the state in question is leaning so heavily toward Obama - we were actually working off a list of "good" leads.
* We were asked not to blog about this because it could derail the Obama campaign's attempts to influence the story of the day. But as a former journalist, I don't believe campaigns should dictate what stories are covered. And I doubt any reporter would be thrilled to quote another, even former, reporter anyway.
On a delicious twist to a breakfast staple
Last month, I had a wonderful vegetable cream cheese at Absolute Bagels in Harlem. I made my own version this morning:
Vegetable Cream Cheese
- 1 green onion
- 2 radishes
- 1 small carrot
- 1 cup of plain cream cheese
Chop the vegetables very finely into confetti-like bits. Combine well with cream cheese. Use on your bagel.
(I just used the veggies I had on hand, but Absolute Bagels' version had chopped bits of broccoli, carrots, and red onion. Very pretty, and completely delicious.)
People are mean, especially conservatives who live in gated communities in the desert. "I already got a visit from you people before. I was rude to the last guy and I'm going to be rude to you. This just pushed me over the edge: I'm voting for McCain," said the old man in the house at the end of the street, before slamming the door.
A morning's tally: 40 doors knocked on, 13 confirmed Obama votes, 6 definite pro-McCain and/or anti-Obama votes, 1 threat to call the police, and 1 young woman who said through a metal door that she hates Obama because "he's the reason [she] went through hell in the foster care system." That's not to say that the state in question is leaning so heavily toward Obama - we were actually working off a list of "good" leads.
* We were asked not to blog about this because it could derail the Obama campaign's attempts to influence the story of the day. But as a former journalist, I don't believe campaigns should dictate what stories are covered. And I doubt any reporter would be thrilled to quote another, even former, reporter anyway.
On a delicious twist to a breakfast staple
Last month, I had a wonderful vegetable cream cheese at Absolute Bagels in Harlem. I made my own version this morning:
Vegetable Cream Cheese
- 1 green onion
- 2 radishes
- 1 small carrot
- 1 cup of plain cream cheese
Chop the vegetables very finely into confetti-like bits. Combine well with cream cheese. Use on your bagel.
(I just used the veggies I had on hand, but Absolute Bagels' version had chopped bits of broccoli, carrots, and red onion. Very pretty, and completely delicious.)
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Street scene
Once in a while, the entertainment industry pays a visit to our corner of downtown. This afternoon it looked like they were shooting a music video. Or maybe a scene for one more of those "Stomp" movies.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Moment of Zen and other freeway observations
Now that I have settled into my robust 40-minute daily commute, I am finding the time to smell the roses, so to speak, and appreciate what our car-culture here in L.A. has to offer.
- Moments of Zen: See above, Buddha patiently sitting in traffic
- Conversations with strangers: A cool afternoon and traffic going about 15 mph, so my windows are rolled down for a change. Out-of-town driver in next car: "Excuse me! Is the 405 freeway that way?" Me: "Um, yeah. About 15 or 20 more miles." Out-of-town driver: "Oh, good. I didn't want to miss it." Me: "Don't worry, you have a long way to go."
- People-watching: A teenage girl in a passenger seat screaming with laughter, holding an Icee. A barefoot man slowly exiting the freeway on a downtown off-ramp.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Scenes from the LA Marathon
People huddle for warmth near the starting line... lines at the portable toilets are 20 deep a half-hour before the starting time... a tree's branches become decorated with discarded clothing as runners file by... the stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame streak by in a blur... a barefoot runner with black soles... a man walking under a bridge holds up a sign to runners that says, "Have you found Jesus yet?" ... one man yells to another, who is wearing a T-shirt honoring a comrade killed in Iraq, "Lt. so-and-so, Hooyah!" ... two burly biker types perched on a flatbed truck blast Guns N' Roses from giant speakers ... people sit in folding chairs on their front lawns... the sun beats down on the runners... people line the streets holding signs with their friends' or relatives' names... handsome police officers guard an intersection... a Korean kid raps atop one of the entertainment stages... a runner is stricken with a leg cramp and others try to help, one of them lightly kicking the bottom of his heel... the ground is strewn with flattened cups and banana peels... the welcome cold spray of someone's front-yard hose... little kids hold out cups of water or their hands for high-fives... bystanders read your bib and cheer you on by name... another mile marker passes overhead... someone consoles a teenager who has stopped running and is crying... the crowd has thinned out... some runners stop to stretch their legs on the side of the road... the welcome faces of friends, looking so fresh and encouraging, not at all how you feel... a cheering station volunteer forces a packet of Gu into your hand, and it turns out you really did need it... some cloud cover provides relief from the heat... a perfect view of downtown stretches out ahead... the crowds begin to thicken in the final miles of the race...a news photographer kneels on a street corner, waiting for a good shot... a homeless man yells encouraging words... "You're almost there!" someone else shouts... the Mile 26 banner is straight ahead... the finish is a yellow blurry line too far off in the distance... runners try to smile as they force their legs across the 26.2 mark... volunteers yelling "Congratulations" practically tackle runners to remove computer chips from sneakers... medals are draped around people's necks and plastic blankets are handed out... runners grab at the hundreds of bottles of water set up on tables... paramedics cart away a wiry, ashen-faced runner... people spread blankets out and fall to the ground... some scarf down fruit, bagels, nuts... others make their way on wobbly legs to reunite with their families
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Drool
- Weird quote of the day -
My dentist, to me: "You have more saliva than anyone I've ever met."
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Auto interactions
These car-related incidents took place in the last two days, and are so typical of Los Angeles. Out here, people don't really chat each other up on the street because nobody walks anywhere. So these types of things are about all the interaction I have with strangers, now that I am back in this car-crazed town.
Rush hour, yesterday: I'm waiting to turn left at a busy intersection, and this guy in a Mercedes drives up behind me, honks and starts waving his arms in a forward motion, mouthing "Go!" He means that I should pull forward further into the intersection, like I'm some little old lady who doesn't know better. In reality, I know plenty, and I sometimes even pull out further than I'd like, just so the next car can get his nose out also. But in this case, I don't budge. It's a small and crowded intersection, and I don't want to intimidate the car opposite me that is also waiting to turn left. So I give the guy a crazy wave in the rear view mirror, one of these overly enthusiastic waves you might give an old friend you haven't seen in a while. And the guy starts cracking up.
On the way to work, this morning: I'm waiting at a red light at the freeway off-ramp. An Acura * turns onto the ramp and the driver's eyes connect with mine. He gives me a nod. One of those cool-guy nods.
After work, today: I'm at the coin-operated self-serve car wash, and a short, older guy with a wrinkled, sun-baked face is hustling me for change. For food for his boy, he says. I tell him I can buy him some food, if he can wait until I'm done wiping my car dry. He says fine and goes to sit down. Then I accidentally pluck off one of my windshield wipers and he comes back over to try to help me. He's really trying, but is even less effective than I am. After a couple of awkward minutes, an Australian guy who's been polishing his Porsche nearby walks over and tells my guy to cut it out, to stop bothering me. I can see my guy feels slightly threatened, but is also genuinely kind of offended. He looks at me for help, but all I say is it's all right, it's all right, to both of them. I take the wiper back and manage to reattach it. Before I leave, I give my guy two organic power bars that I swiped from work and a slight smile to the Porsche man as I pull out of the lot.
* Don't ask my why I notice the make of every car all of a sudden. Oh wait, I live in LA.
Rush hour, yesterday: I'm waiting to turn left at a busy intersection, and this guy in a Mercedes drives up behind me, honks and starts waving his arms in a forward motion, mouthing "Go!" He means that I should pull forward further into the intersection, like I'm some little old lady who doesn't know better. In reality, I know plenty, and I sometimes even pull out further than I'd like, just so the next car can get his nose out also. But in this case, I don't budge. It's a small and crowded intersection, and I don't want to intimidate the car opposite me that is also waiting to turn left. So I give the guy a crazy wave in the rear view mirror, one of these overly enthusiastic waves you might give an old friend you haven't seen in a while. And the guy starts cracking up.
On the way to work, this morning: I'm waiting at a red light at the freeway off-ramp. An Acura * turns onto the ramp and the driver's eyes connect with mine. He gives me a nod. One of those cool-guy nods.
After work, today: I'm at the coin-operated self-serve car wash, and a short, older guy with a wrinkled, sun-baked face is hustling me for change. For food for his boy, he says. I tell him I can buy him some food, if he can wait until I'm done wiping my car dry. He says fine and goes to sit down. Then I accidentally pluck off one of my windshield wipers and he comes back over to try to help me. He's really trying, but is even less effective than I am. After a couple of awkward minutes, an Australian guy who's been polishing his Porsche nearby walks over and tells my guy to cut it out, to stop bothering me. I can see my guy feels slightly threatened, but is also genuinely kind of offended. He looks at me for help, but all I say is it's all right, it's all right, to both of them. I take the wiper back and manage to reattach it. Before I leave, I give my guy two organic power bars that I swiped from work and a slight smile to the Porsche man as I pull out of the lot.
* Don't ask my why I notice the make of every car all of a sudden. Oh wait, I live in LA.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Blogs circa 1895
From The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde
ALGERNON: I hope, Cecily, I shall not offend you if I state quite frankly and openly that you seem to me to be in every way the visible personification of absolute perfection.
CECILY: I think your frankness does you great credit, Ernest. If you will allow me I will copy your remarks into my diary. (Goes over to table and begins writing in diary.)
ALGERNON: Do you really keep a diary? I'd give anything to look at it.
May I?
CECILY: Oh, no. (Puts her hand over it) You see, it is simply a very young girl's record of her own thoughts and impressions, and consequently meant for publication. When it appears in volume form I hope you will order a copy.
ALGERNON: I hope, Cecily, I shall not offend you if I state quite frankly and openly that you seem to me to be in every way the visible personification of absolute perfection.
CECILY: I think your frankness does you great credit, Ernest. If you will allow me I will copy your remarks into my diary. (Goes over to table and begins writing in diary.)
ALGERNON: Do you really keep a diary? I'd give anything to look at it.
May I?
CECILY: Oh, no. (Puts her hand over it) You see, it is simply a very young girl's record of her own thoughts and impressions, and consequently meant for publication. When it appears in volume form I hope you will order a copy.
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