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Weekend shenanigans: Don't ask GA for an autograph Edition

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Friday was a supposed to have been spent in Vegas with friends, flying out of LAX on the Southwest express.  Luckily, it didn’t happen.  Had a migraine in the morning and it didn’t go away until the Angels game would have finished, which, in the words of Prince, ‘is a mighty long time.’


So, I sat on my ass all Friday, taking down an order of Thai food.  When you have a migraine, you don’t know what to eat, so you use it as an excuse to lunch off or not eat at all.  And the pity is, if you eat ‘comfort food,’ you really can’t enjoy it.  So I took down a ton of calories which I didn’t really appreciate.


My brother came into town around 9pm, driving down from Napa.  Since I wasn’t in Vegas, I invited him to stay over.  He had to do some wine business at the Century Plaza Hotel on Saturday so I figured his stay wouldn’t be too invasive. 


We were up pretty early on Saturday and my bro wanted to go out to breakfast.  He landed upon Haute Cakes in Newport which isn’t my scene, but I didn’t want to salt his game.  The place is like a capsule of lunch time in high school.  You walk in, get sized-up and jockey for a place to sit.  The food’s not bad but who is anybody here kidding?  It’s all about being seen.  (TIME OUT:  NEED TO PUT ON AN EPISODE OF MIAMI VICE.)


We picked a table outside, across from a very unhappy 20-something couple.  The dude is my worst kind of dining patron.  I don’t know if he was being hipster/emo or if he was trying to show his tiny Asian girlfriend that he didn’t care no more.  His hair was all over the place, and he wore a wrinkled T-shirt with disgusting shorts encumbered with puke inducing stains.  The kind that make you think back to some of the shit you wore in college to the dining hall and what an asshole you must’ve looked like.


To top it off, he was barefoot.  An all around douche who was very eager to show everyone how little he cared.  He drove me nuts as he scraped the bottom of his bowl with a spoon...ding! cling! ding!  Chewing with his mouth open and smacking his fat ass lips like a five-year old with a mouthful of gummie bears.  His girl was unimpressed with the situation.  She was wearing some workout shorts and I felt like she was looking forward to a fancy little breakfast.  But she got stuck with this homeless looking bag of dung who was channeling the worst habits of Seth Rogan. 


But God was looking out for me on this day:  A black man arrived with a kid in tow.  This being Newport, everyone tried real hard not to look.  Actually, I don’t think anyone cared, but it’s more fun to write to stereotype.  I recognized the homeboy.  It was Garrett Anderson.  The first thing I did was warn my brother not to ask him for his autograph, thanks to angelswin.com.  I think I scared the hell out of him because he didn’t even look in GA’s direction.


GA took off with his kid somewhere around my brother’s second cup of coffee.  No one asked for his autograph, but the owner of the joint chatted with him on his way out.  GA cracked a smile which threw me.  I think the former Home Run Derby champ comes here for breakfast often.  I’ve never seen his kid say a word, by the way. 


Gross Seth Rogan bailed with his poor girl, back to the former Oakwood apartments to crawl onto the thrift shop couch where his other stains were waiting for him.  In high school, we called Oakwood ‘Coke-wood’ since a few people we knew who lived there either dealt coke or snorted a Miami Vice episode’s worth.  (FOLLOW UP:  I PUT ON THE EPISODE "TRUST FUND PIRATES") 


We got back home and my brother got ready for his wine thingy.  I got a text from my cousin inviting me to his baby’s baptism to take place in about a half-hour.  He appologized for the late notice, etc.  He also stated that there would be an after party at his folks’ house.  I texted back that I was busy (b.s.) but would try to get by for the rager.  The Angels were winning and I didn’t know if that would happen again so I wanted to savor it. 


I dropped by the party after the game and everyone was already sauced.  A bagpiper was wrapping up his session.  For those keeping score at home, that’s two weekends in a row for DR where the Shenanigans involved a bagpiper.


As I have learned to do, I built in an excuse for why I could only stay for a short time.  It’s one of the first things I do just about any party I go to.  You gotta frontload in case you want to get the hell outta (adam) Dodge.  I really did have plans.  I met my friend at the beach for a bike ride and a side trip to Gina’s pizza where I mangled a meatball sandwich and salad.  Going for broke, I stopped at the Pavilions market for a couple cookies.  Why is there a Pavilions market in this location?  It doesn't fit with the 909'ers who just want a twelver of Corona.  Much better when I was a kid and the same location was a Market Basket.  My dad would get his cigarettes here...and the lighter fluid you had to buy for your cigarette lighter.  I can smell it now. 


My brother and I met up later and he wanted to take me to dinner.  I love food so I said ‘yes.’  But first, we went to a bar attached to a restaurant so my brother could get some face time with the manager.  The wine business is 1/3rd wine 2/3rds public relations.  Our cousin was married for a couple years back in the late-70s.  Her husband worked at this same restaurant when they were married.  We heard that he was still working in the same position so we snooped around and found him.  He recognized my brother --who is older than me -- after a couple seconds.  Remarkable that he’s still here after all this time.  He was a real handsome man back in the day.  My cousin, named after my mom, was a knockout.  I mean, she was a 10+.  She could’ve married anyone and I can’t imagine the hell this couple raised in the swinging Newport of the 1970s.  Now, she’s married to an eye doctor and living a country life in Sonoma.  The one constant is change.


It was getting late but I had my brother call my Chinese restaurant while I drove to see if they would be open.  They were and we ate...again. 


My brother took off at 4am Sunday morning which was nice.  I wanted some alone time.  I went down and got my favorite donut, the old fashioned completely dipped in chocolate, and savored it through the Angels usual Fenway loss.  This is what the greatest donut in the world looks like:




Sunday’s are the hardest days for DR.  It’s when I miss my wife the most.  While wandering around the house during and with the game on in the background, I put on my wedding ring which I keep next to my wife’s picture.  I texted around in the afternoon looking for someone, anyone to hang out with but everyone was busy with their families or whatever.  Fortunately, my friend had just arrived in town for his mom’s birthday and had some time to kill, so we went on a late afternoon bike ride.  It was nice and overcast out.  It must’ve been hotter than hell inland since there were a ton of people at the beach still.


Balboa Pier looked like this after our bike ride:




Later, I dropped my friend off at his party and went by myself for an amazing slice of sausage pizza.  Felt like a p-i-g afterward but it was worth every bite.  You get some curious looks when you dine by yourself on a Sunday night, fyi.  Earlier, I told my friend I’d drive him back to his place in L.A. after the party since he didn’t have his car.  We headed up around 8:30pm and there was no traffic.  The drive back was wonderful.  I blasted tunes from my collection and felt like I could just keep going to pretty much anywhere.  I thought about it too, especially when Killing Joke’s “Sanity” played.  This song has one of my favorite lyrics of all time and reminds me of my past year, and this current Angels season:


“We cherished the seconds, counting the days.”

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A black man arrived with a kid in tow.  This being Newport, everyone tried real hard not to look.  Actually, I don’t think anyone cared, but it’s more fun to write to stereotype. 

They didn't care when they realized it was an athlete. There's only 3 black dudes allowed in Newport: GA, Kobe and Reggie.


Edit: but don't act a fool (see Rodman)

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They didn't care when they realized it was an athlete. There's only 3 black dudes allowed in Newport: GA, Kobe and Reggie.


Edit: but don't act a fool (see Rodman)





I remember when Reggie used to cruise the peninsula from his house to grab coffee at Stop and Go on 44th.    He asked me to play 18 with him once at NBCC, but I couldn't.   Had to attend a banquet for a tournament there.   I always regret that.  Should have bailed on my father in law for Jax44!

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If you're referring to the Piglette across the street, she don't park in front of DR's house no more. I left her a note some time ago asking/telling her to park a few spaces away, or in front of her own place.


The Piglette abides.  I actually regret how I handled it.  I should've just had a nice talk with her in a friendly tone.  "Hey, if it's not too much bother, I'd really appreciate it if you parked over here or over there and left the front of my place to friends and family."  But I've heard her go off on others before so I don't think it would've had the desired affect. 


And the cat is doing well.  She's chilling.  Loves the backyard.  Seems she's having a Spy vs. Spy relationship with a neighborhood cat.  She's been sleeping next to me on the bed which is appreciated.  My lil' buddy.  I speak to her like a senior citizen does to their animals. 



DR, how's the parking situation with the neighbor? Any improvement?

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