I am a winner.

No, I mean literally; I win shit. Like, on the radio, in magazine mail-us-a-postcard drawings, all that kind of stuff. Especially on the radio: I've won tickets to see at least four different shows by being the correct caller to KPCC here in LA and Mix98.5 in Boston. Once, after I had been living in LA for a while already, I got a call from Mix that I had won something in a random drawing and I didn't even live in Boston anymore! It was awesome.

In fact, I have seen three shows so far at UCLA's lovely Royce Hall, and for none of them did I pay for a ticket: for two of them I won the tix on KPCC and for the third, my date had won the tix on K-Mozart.

I won a Ben Folds DVD by calling in to the fabulous UCLA radio show "Automatic Stapler". I was caller number one. And two. And three.

Here's the best one: about a month ago, I was at a fundraising event for which Jack FM was a sponsor. They were there with their "Bus-stache" (oh boy) playing host and playing music, and they had a little booth set up too. At one point I wandered over to the booth and overheard the guy there asking the crowd a random question about the station, so I yelled out the answer... and won a Steve Miller double-CD-and-DVD set. I win shit on the radio when it's not even on the radio!

The moral is: call. send the postcard. I think I win because everyone thinks that no one ever wins, so they don't try. Put the damn number in your cellphone and keep hitting Send while you drive.

Or rather, don't, so I can keep winning.

Just try.

Go on, tell me this isn't a funny headline:

GA man executed, ending 7-month moratorium

Thank you, Yahoo news.

That is all.

(Yes, Virginia, a moratorium on executions is egg salad.)

It's "like a little prayer" because your name is MADONNA, woman.

Madonna in concert in LA at Dodger Stadium, November 6th.

I am not ashamed: I really really really wanna go.

Buy tickets with me?

Oh crap. Now I'll never get to bed.

P.S. How goddamned good was Iron Man? How much do I LOVE Robert Downey Jr? And Super Heroes? And therefore RDJ AS A SUPER HERO?? OMG. When is the sequel, tomorrow? Please??

"I am 31 years older than Israel."

So, on Saturday night I performed in this amazing show at the Kodak Theatre, which show included Kirk Douglas among its performers and presenters.

And... tonight I went to see a show at the Kirk Douglas Theater. Ha!

It was two (unrelated) one-act plays by David Mamet, and one of the one-acts starred Ed O'Neill (you know, Al Bundy). Clearly next week I'll need to see something at the Ed O'Neill Theater...


(Yeah yeah... file this under "Things That Are Interesting Only To Me". I know.)

Small Pleasures #5317

Eating outside in the sun.

I love eating outside in the sun.

Sexism in the City, Part One: I object.

So, you're gonna get to read a lot of my random thoughts about the jury system, now that I've spent an incredibly long and frustrating time getting to know it (and now that my AMAZING SHOW AT THE KODAK is over and I can begin to breathe again). We're gonna start with something that happened during the first two days of my service, the voir dire days. (Ahhh, the voir dire days.)

Now, overall, I quite liked the presiding judge in my courtroom, and found him even-handed and kind and he got lots of points with me for apologizing very sincerely one time when he thought he had reacted over-harshly to a mistake a lawyer made. However, he did one or two things that really pissed me off, one being to kind of humiliate me, but we'll talk about that another time. The thing I want to describe here didn't particularly piss me off, but I did notice it and think about it a bit. I'm pretty sure that it is unintentional and that if it were pointed out to him, he'd fix it, but who knows. Here's the deal.

Every potential juror had to start by introducing themselves and answering a certain set of questions that were posted at the front of the room. You had to state details like your name and your occupation, your marital status and number of children, the occupation of any other adults living in your household, whether you'd been on a jury before, and whether you'd be a victim of or a witness to any crimes. Then the judge would ask you some further questions, sometimes details about something you'd said in the first bit and then some additional questions that related to the trial at hand, like whether you rented or owned your home.

Here are some sample conversations. Can you spot my complaint?

0.
Potential Juror: I am a librarian for an elementary school and I have two kids. I am divorced.
Judge KF: How old are your children?
Juror: 9 and 12
Judge: What does your ex-husband do?
Juror: He is a history professor at UCLA.

1.
Potential Juror: I am a real estate agent and I live in Glendale with my wife and 5-year-old son.
Judge KF: Does your wife work outside the home?
Juror: Yes, she is a nurse.

2.
Potential Juror: My name is Potential Juror. I live in West LA. I work at Smart & Final. I am a widow.
Judge KF: I'm sorry to hear that. What did your husband do?
Juror: He worked in construction.

3.
Potential Juror: My name is Potential Juror. I live in West LA. I work at Ralph's. I am a widower.
Judge KF: I'm sorry to hear that. Did your wife work outside the home?
Juror: No, she was a stay-at-home mom.

Did I make it clear enough in those last two examples? To every man he'd use the very politically correct phrase, "Does your wife work outside the home?". To every woman he'd say, "What does your husband do?". I think he loses the political correctness that way - he wouldn't dream of saying, "Does your husband work outside the home?"

Perhaps I should note that I'm not normally on the lookout for slights, to my sex or my ethnicity or anything. I am not easily offended and this didn't offend me, but I certainly found it interesting and was very curious to hear how the judge would react if it were pointed out to him.

What do you think? Am I over-reacting by having noticed it at all? Is it perfectly reasonable, given that it's still much more common for married women to not have jobs than it is for married men? Is it one of those subtle things that undermines progress toward equality and needs to be rooted out? Is gender equality a big ball of crap? Was I really bored enough during jury questioning to have noticed this? Am I still typing questions?

Discuss.

P.S. This post was originally titled:
Q: How many feminists does it take to change a lightbulb?
and its first line was:
A: That's not funny.


PPS Just found this and was a little amazed, having just said, "I mean, I'm not like a raving Femi-Nazi or anything," like, two paragraphs ago.

Israel at 60 - Unbelievable show. AND I'M IN IT!!

RAMI KLEINSTEIN ACHINOAM NINI (NOA) KIRK DOUGLAS

IDAN RAICHEL KESHET CHAIM HABANOT NECHAMA

The most amazing show ever!!
The Kodak Theatre, May 10 2008, 8:45pm.
You only turn 60 once.
YOU DO NOT WANT TO MISS THIS SHOW!!

My friends, let me make something clear: I am not just performing in this show, with all these amazing performers, at the Kodak Theatre. I actually CHOREOGRAPHED PART OF THE DANCE!!! Please come. Please come.

Only a few more days - tickets still available as of this posting so hurry up and get in touch to buy some!!!! If you go through me rather than Ticketmaster, you save a lot of money in fees.

Click here to see more details including prices and seating.

Happy Birthday G'pa!

So, here's the thing: I have a really cool family. I actually kind of like them, believe it or not - they're smart and funny and, well, loud, but so am I. Occasionally :)

The only real flaw they have is that they all live on the East Coast. And that's about 3,000 miles too far away from me. Ok, maybe it's only 2970 miles too far away.

So, here's an example of how fabulous and smart my family is: my GRANDFATHER is web-savvy enough that he reads my blog. Hi Grandpa!! And really, really, here is the point:

I'm sorry I missed your birthday the other day but I hope it was great and I love you A LOT and I miss you A LOT and I hope I will see you soon.

l,l,l,
me

Welcome to The Oneness-Heart-Tears and Smiles International

I find the whole Sri Chinmoy thing kind of fascinating. I've read the article on him and his ultramarathon in Harper's and I've eaten at the Sri Chinmoy restaurant Jyoti Bihanga in San Diego.

But here's the question: why isn't there a Sri Chinmoy restaurant in Los Angeles? And where can I buy some of his bird drawings or other art? I really want both of these things.

But it's probably about not-wanting, isn't it?

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, neatloaf.

Things I Occur More Often Than, a partial list

* anger (4)
* travel (4)
* Portland (3)
* ice cream (3)
* kcrw (3)
* politics (3)
* clothes (2)
* newspapers (2)
* plants (2)
* rain (2)
* rat (2)
* vocab (2)
* GROSS (1)
* bus (1)
* cement (1)
* david sedaris (1)
* donkey kong (1)
* eyeballs (1)
* graffiti (1)
* grammar (1)
* grandmother (1)
* hebrew (1)
* hipsters (1)
* monocle (1)
* moustache (1)
* mouthwash (1)
* sailors (1)
* scandinavia (1)
* sculpture (1)
* smells (1)
* stamps (1)
* transportation (1)

I also occur just as frequently as
* Colorado (5)
* apartment (5)
* shoes (5)

and of course, less often than the really important things, like
* music (32)
* movies (19)
* photos (19)
* celebz (18)
* school (16)
* food (15)
* concert (13)
* law and order (13)
* television (8)
* holidays (6)

A Freudian slip is when you say one thing but mean your mother.

So, today someone accidentally called me (in writing): ReadDanceBills. Ha! Even more appropriate just now, coming off my lucrative month-long stint as professional juror at a whopping $15 a day - yeah! ReadDanceBills it is.

What could be better than getting paid to dance?

Getting paid to read, of course.

Well, so far I don't get paid to read, but I do get some free books. I am a proud Library Thing Early Reviewer.

Yay, me! So far I've gotten advance copies of two books to read, The Break-Up Diet by Annette Fix and Imagine Me and You by Billy Mernit. Neither was spectacular, but they were both just the sort of book I would read. Hooray for free books!

Nude Descending A Suitcase

So, did you read my post about the adorable Kate Micucci? Before I wrote it, I was trying to describe her to someone and couldn't remember Kimya Dawson's name, so I said something like: You know, the Juno soundtrack? The Rotten Apples or something?

Yeah, RDB, it's The Moldy Peaches. Close, though. A for Effort.

And so, the last boy I dated was a few (six) years younger than I am, and someone jokingly accused me of, I kid you not, "stealing the carriage".

I totally knew what she meant, knew it was totally wrong, and yet could not come up with "robbing the cradle" for a full five minutes because I was laughing too hard.


Um, that's all. Ha.



Ok, that's not really all. How great are the designs at Glennz Tees? Hysterical, right?

Let's go to the movies, Annie.

I want to see Then She Found Me because I read the book by Elinor Lipman, who I also met and loved, and because I also love Helen Hunt. But I haven't met her.

Wango?