This morning while having my breakfast at home, I was feeling a bit anxious about the re-launch of my blog after an excessively long hiatus. I was excited to be contacting all of my old and new followers, to let them know to expect a whole new series of humorous short stories satirizing topics ranging from our consumer culture to politics to our technology-obsessed world. However, I just wanted to make sure I had put all of the finishing touches on my blog site. One thing that kept eating at me was my profile picture, which I have always liked, but never could really sink my teeth into why. Sure, the foreshortened perspective of the close-up of my face looking over a cappuccino is a bit kooky. The way the picture insinuates that I have a different perspective on things seems to resonate with readers. Some readers have gone so far as to see deep symbolism in it- “the cappuccino symbolizes the world, and the white foam with the swirly brown of the cinnamon and chocolate subliminally suggests the seas and the continents as if seen from space,” one fan wrote to me. As you can see, I attract a pretty strange following, which makes it hard to value their input, as much as I’d like to.
It was a typical Sunday of errand running- getting the oil changed on my car, picking up fresh produce at the Hollywood farmer’s market, then back home to put the final touches on my blog site. I asked a friend what she thought, and she told me “put it out there in the universe and let the universe decide.” This is the type of mindless New Age babble that really drives me nuts, and even though she is a friend, if she keeps giving me advice like this I may just have to delete her number from my cell phone and un-friend her on FB, not to mention unendorse her on LinkedIn. Do people like her really think the planets, galaxies and black holes in space give a flying saucer as to what picture I stick on my blog? That’s the kind of goofy California philosophy that ranks right up there with “there are no coincidences.” The only time I believe that “there are no coincidences” is when someone tells me there are no coincidences and it turns out they are a moron. “I guess they are right,” I think to myself, ”because the last person who said this was also a moron. There must be a cosmic connection because it’s certainly not a mere coincidence.”
At the Jiffy Lube, I sat in the waiting room and browsed through a copy of Entertainment Weekly while they changed my oil. I was intrigued by an article about Jerry Seinfeld’s newest venture, a web series called “Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee.” If anyone knows anything about comedy, it’s Jerry Seinfeld, and I found it interesting that he thinks comedians getting coffee is fertile ground for a comedy series. “Maybe coffee is inherently funny, like slipping on a banana peel or men in drag,” I wondered. I was beginning to feel more confident about my profile pic.
Soon enough, my car was ready and I headed over to the farmer’s market. It’s usually pretty easy for me to find parking nearby but for some reason, after driving around the area for about 15 minutes, I still couldn’t find a spot. Then suddenly, I saw a woman get into her car at a meter right across the street from the market. Perfect! I pulled up alongside her and she told me that she was pulling out, but that it might take a few minutes because she was waiting for a friend who was picking up their coffees at the new espresso café in front of her spot. I told her I didn’t mind waiting- I was tired of driving around the neighborhood. After about ten minutes of waiting, she got out of her car and came over to my window.
“I’m sorry you’re waiting so long. My friend just texted me and asked me to come in and have the coffee inside together. But we’ll be fast- we’re running late for an appointment. It’ll be just another 5 minutes.”
“Hey, it’s Sunday morning. No rush,” I told her, trying my best to feign the chill California attitude and just go with the flow. Deep inside, the New Yorker in me was fuming!
“Why are you fuming?” my Inner Californian asked my Deep Inner New Yorker. “Maybe there’s a reason why you need to wait. Relax and let it be.” As you can see, it’s not easy being a transplanted New Yorker in LaLa Land.
Thankfully, she and her friend didn’t take long at all. About 5 minutes later they walked out of the café and waved at me for being so patient. But then, to my surprise, just before getting into her car, her friend began walking towards me, and came right over to my passenger side window.
I couldn’t believe it- it was comedian Andy Dick, who I used to think was quite hilarious, but who had seemed to go off the deep end at some point. “What does he want with me?” I wondered. I had read tabloid articles about him accosting a tourist, getting arrested for starting drunken brawls and even insulting other celebrities. Was he jacked up on espresso and looking to start a fight? My Deep Inner New Yorker was just waiting to see what this skinny, aging, Hollywood comedy brat had to say.
“I just wanted to thank you for being so patient,” he said. Then he reached into my car, shook my hand and walked away. A total gentleman.
“That’s it!” I said to myself. “First an article by Jerry Seinfeld about comics in their cars getting coffee. Then, what are the odds that I am going to bump into a comic …in a car…getting his coffee? But I did. I mean, there are no coincidences, right?
The universe has spoken. I’m keeping my profile pic. Stay tuned for more freshly brewed blogs.
L.A. blog, not smog! 