With budgetary woes what they are, you'd think that public agencies would be careful about guarding their property. But writer Jay Berman found a different attitude in Manhattan Beach.
On Craigslist (where else?), David Batterson found just the service for people worried about their rodents' choppers.
Yes, I was a real SMOC (Small Man on Campus):
You can imagine my excitement when I received the accompanying notice from an on-line class reunion site.
You'll just have to take our word for it:
Angelenos have always tended to look down on Long Beach, my town. But perhaps it's because they don't take the time to appreciate our picturesque construction sites and sewers.
For the convenience of drivers, my picturesque post office in Long Beach has two outside mail boxes pointed toward the street_along some red curb. I guess you're expected to drop off your letters while on the move_drive-by mailings, in other words.
Hands off, mister!
In the central California town of Cayucos, I chanced upon a sign posted by a company that was going all out to avoid sexual harassment suits.
Don't know much about geography:
Easterners always seem baffled by our freeways. The other day, the New York Times said that the next home of the San Diego Chargers may be a ``a two-and-a-half-hour drive north on the Golden State Freeway to downtown Los Angeles."
Only problem is, the freeway leaving San Diego is called the (surprise) San Diego Freeway. It eventually turns into the Golden State east of L.A.'s Civic Center, but it never goes through downtown L.A.
Don't know much about geography, Part II:
A few weeks before that, the New York Times, writing on the eve of Carmageddon, referred to the closure of ``a 10-mile stretch of I-405, a major highway running through the center of town."
The 405 does not, of course, run through downtown L.A., even if some Westsiders do believe that they're the center of the universe.
Paula Van Gelder noticed a headline that seemed to give the very erroneous impression that the Beverly Hills police had committed a crime.
My wife was paying at an In-N-Out drive-through when the young clerk mumbled an indecipherable question. ``I asked him to repeat it," she said. ``He asked me if I wanted a lap mat. I told him I thought he said `lap ban.' He said, `I've had people say they thought I asked, `Would you like a lap dance?'"