OVERHEARD ON LARCHMONT BOULEVARD

"Some of the greatest geniuses of all time were misunderstood"

Said the man in the navy blue wool fedora to his friend.  This dapper dude caught my attention a block a way.  Tall and slender, ripped jeans resembling the ones we sell at the boutique, beat up boots and a roughened "vintage" AC/DC shirt.  Just looking at him I could tell he was not the type who rocked out to "You Shook Me All Night Long".  It was obvious that he chose the shirt because of the color pallet, and not his taste in music. 

He sat next to a bright-eyed girl with a face caked with makeup.  They split a "this tastes just like New York's" pizza. First off that was not a New York Pizza.  New York pizzas are the size of your face, and if you were a true New Yorker that greasy but delicious slice with the perfect ratio of sauce to cheese and a dough so savory it makes your mouth water would be consumed at 4AM for that much needed fourth meal, and you sure as hell would not be splitting that sensational slice for "lunch," you manorexic.  

CPK my ass.  LA does not make pizza like New York City. But LA can make one hell of a taco.   Going to a Taco Bell in LA is like going to a Pizza Hut in New York. 

Okay I confess.  I was basically eavesdropping, but how could I not?  I was sitting on the bench first, eating my lunch and minding my own business. Then they just sat right next to me on MY bench, even though there was an empty bench next to me.  I felt that earned me the right to overhear this conversation. 

The manorexic turns to his groupie who hangs on to his every word.  She never adds to the conversation. She just smiles and nods.  I wonder if she even speaks English.  Ever so often she'll nibble on her slither of not New York pizza.  Mid bite he looks her deep in the eyes as says:

"I'm just weird and misunderstood.  But that means I'm a genius.  Think about it, some of the greatest minds were considered weird.  Einstein, Jesus, Jim Morrison."

I love how Morrison is on the same level as Einstein and Jesus.  I'm surprised he didn't say Brian Johnson (lead singer of AC/DC).  And yes, I agree you are weird sir, you are wearing a wool hat in 90 degree heat. 

Then I started to wonder: where did this self proclaimed genius come from?  What did he do?  What was he too much of a genius for?  

"Abercrombie just couldn't handle this unique mind."

Of course, fedora fellow who just compared himself to Jesus, Einstein and Jim Morrison is a former Abercrombie & Fitch employee.  That explains the ripped jeans.

Just the thought of Abercrombie & Bitch makes me smell that...scent.   You know that sweet and musky aroma that reeks each store and floats down the halls of the shopping mall mixing with the scent of egg rolls, hot pretzels and "tacky".  That scent is a time capsule.  Every time I smell that Abercrombie aroma I flash back to the new millennium when we thought the world was going to end and all technology was going to crash.  But it didn't.  All we got was boy bands, Britney Spears and Bush for president.  The smell of Abercrombie takes me back to Mitzvah season.  Sixth grade.  Being 12 when everyone else was 13.  Getting yelled at by a rabbi at temple for not being able to follow along in Hebrew because I was the only non Jew in Westport.

Abercrombie was the smell of the Mitzvah dance floor smothered in a sea of boys in that classic bright cobalt blue dress shirt who "grinded" to the "Thong Song" with the skinny "popular" girls wearing Steve Madden platforms, Kate Spade box bags, Betsy Johnson dresses, who sparked in their braces, Tiffany's chains and shiny pin straight hair.  As I watched on in the fat corner, thinking I could never fit in because not only did I not own a thong, but worse, I sported high waist Fruit of the Looms because my Mom still bought my underwear.  

Back to the fedora fellow, this story only gets weirder.  Later that night I was out in Venice with a friend who took me to this hip-hop bar.  It had everything I could ask for in a bar,  good music, packed with straight looking men (a rarity in LA), funky decor, and Blue Moons.  Okay, the Blue Moons were not on tap, but they did serve it with an orange, which is key.   Oh, and there was a chandelier in the bathroom, which of course is necessary because nothing says "class" like a chandelier above the urinal.

The bar was packed, which was strange because it was a Tuesday night.  For an explanation I did what I do best: eavesdropped:

“Robby Krieger is playing”

 “Who?”

 “One of The Doors. You own a freaking Doors shirt and you didn't know that?"

 "I own it because it's vintage"

 "Yeah, but do you know anything about the band?"

 "I know I like the shirt".

Robby Krieger is defiantly one of my top three favorite alive members of The Doors.   I'm assuming Robby is like the Ringo Starr of the Doors, because he's the last listed member on Wikipedia.  But this still thrilled me.  I saw 1/4 of the Doors, one Door perform live.  I love LA.

And Robby was quite a hottie for a wrinkly old man. Skin like worn in leather and a patch of bright red hair, which obviously wasn't natural because there was crusted hair die around his bald cranium. 

I researched the Robster.  Turns out he's listed as number 91 on the Rolling Stones greatest guitarists of all time.  That's a fun fact.  

Then I got to thinking, I wonder how many chicks Robalicious has laid and if "I knew Jim Morrison" still works as a pickup line in 2009. 

Anyway, halfway through “Riders On the Storm,” I'm trying to peak over the absurdly tall girl in front of me who is wearing heels, how rude.  And out of the corner of my eye I spot a familiar face.  The dapper dude.  I knew it was him because he was still sporting that navy blue wool fedora, and it was basically a sauna in the packed bar.  

Well Jim Morrison said it best, "people are strange."

I'd like to leave you with these lyrics:

People are strange when you’re a stranger

Faces look ugly when you’re alone

Women seem wicked when you’re unwanted

Streets are uneven when you’re down

When you’re strange

Faces come out of the rain

When you’re strange

No one remembers your name

When you’re strange x3

THE "C" WORD

Crash diets.

You know, they call them "crash" diets for a reason.

In LA everyone always seems to be dieting.   Either they're clearly clensing, really raw, very vegan,  Carbless, Fat-free, only organic, just Jamba Juicing, soley Starbucks, craving Cupcakes, purely Pinkberry, guzzling Grapefruit, or just not eating anything at all.  

Before moving to LA I always thought I was skinny.  But by LA standards, I'm "skinny fat".

It hit me when someone told me I looked like the girl from "The Secret Life of An American Teenager".  You know, the pregnant one.

See LA skinny is borderline repulisive. The look here is basically a skeleton drenched in designer and pouting with a fresh coat of crayon red lipstick which makes her pale skin glow like snow. Her hair is either highlighter yellow or blackout black.  Most likely she's tripping over her too tall Louboutins as she tries to balence to the glitzening gold chain of her quilted Chanel bag. 

Boys, is this sexy to you?  If you think flannel is formal your opinion doesn't matter.

LA skinny isn't and never will be me.  I like food too much.  I tried the whole Organic Vegan thing, AKA the Skinny Bitch Diet, which should really be called "I'm skinny and a Bitch because I don't eat any thing."  After day two of the diet, I could barely remain conscience.  

My love of food is attributed to my  Grandmother Antoinette who used to tell me "Gabrielle," her Brooklyn-ese accent disabled her from pronouncing my real name, Gabriella, "how do you know you don't like something until you try it?"  Ever since she told me that I have become an adventurous eater.  I tried everything.  In fact I tried too much.  My afternoon snack would be a cup of whole milk and about 10 Oreos which I used to mash up at the bottom of my glass of milk and eat with a spoon like pudding.

Needless to say Grandma was technically obese.  She would eat an entire BJ (Costco for those outside of Fairfield County) sized tub of pretzels, drenched in mustard and wrapped in cheese, in one sitting.  It's actually quite delicious.  She also qualified rolling on the floor as physical activity, an exercise inspired by either an infomercial or just her old age laziness.  After a demonstration, my "large and in charge" grandmother rolled right into a vase which shattered, along with her dignity. 

So yeah, diets aren't really my thing.  I took an nutrition class in college.  My teacher's last name was Dong.  She hated me because I always rolled into class fifteen minutes late.  You could hear the clink clink clink of my high-heeled boots up the hall.  I couldn't tell you Why I was wearing heels to class when there was ice on the ground.  I think it was part of my sophomore year fashion identity crisis.  I would also wear tops as dresses, need I say more? 

I would burst into the classroom apologizing profusely and claiming I hit traffic, as I held up two venti sized Starbucks, one for myself and one for my friend Kim.  The funny thing was I lived on campus and class was two blocks away.  So by traffic I meant the clump of Emos smoking cloves outside of my dorm, and the long line of ten syllable orders at Starbucks in City Place.  

I'll never forget the day in nutrtion class where I learned my favorite brunch order from Trident on Newbury, an oversized avacado and dill havarti cheese egg white omlette was by no means healthy.  Dong told me my omlette's fillings essentally defeated the purpose of the egg whites.  I still miss those omlettes.  

I didn't really learn much in nutrition.  Just that I drank too much coffee.  Apparently an average of 7 shots of espresso a day isn't really considered healthy living. 

But honestly, diets are stupid.  Why start a diet if you're just going to break them anyway.  If you don't believe me check out what my friend Courtney brought this to my attention yesterday.  A list of six of the craziest crash diets of all time, brought to you by cracked.com. 

http://www.cracked.com/article_15780_6-most-insane-crash-diets-all-time.html

The list is pretty insane. Basically all of these ancient "diets" translate into disorders:

1.) The alcohol diet = Alcoholism

2.) Vomiting= Bulimia

3.) The Graham Cracker diet=Anorexia

4.)The Chew diet= Stupidity

5.)Tapeworm= Extreme Stupidity

6.) The Sleeping Beauty Diet= Coma

All this talk about food is making me hungry.  What fast food chain should I cause havoc at tonight?