I’m going back to cally....I don’t think so

So just as I was getting my body used to West Coast time, it was time to head back to New York and mess up my body clock again. I’m up to my eyeballs in work but I was glad for the trip. I got to see the Left Coast fam that I don’t get to see too often, including a grandmother who asks me about once an hour why I’m not married. I’ll give her a pass because she’s been having memory problems lately and may not recall that she just told me I had to get married before she died—although I’m probably really just giving her the benefit of the doubt.

Anyway, I had two interesting celebrity sightings, both on my JetBlue flight. I saw Vincent “Big Pussy” Pastore from the Sopranos going to California, and John Hensley, who plays Matt McNamara on one of my favorite shows, Nip/Tuck, coming back. They both look pretty much like how they do on TV. Vincent Pastore is huge. John Hensley is taller than I thought he’d be, though he was dressed sort of the way Matt dresses on the show—slightly alternative and moody, but pleasant enough to the woman in his row, who recognized him from the show and seemed to be having a bit of a conversation with him.

Speaking of celebrities, one of the things I did do was visit Hollywood, walking around the Kodak theater area, taking a pic with Zorro, and looking at the handprints in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theater. This is the second time I’ve been to Hollywood, and I have to say I’ve not been too impressed with it. Granted, I’ve only really seen the touristy parts, but Hollywood is more gritty than glitzy, from what I’ve seen. It definitely has character though, with it’s vintage shops and old theaters (and there are a lot of characters who pose for pictures with tourists for tips, like my BF Zorro, as well as an emaciated Spider-Man, Princess Fiona from Shrek, and a couple other weirdos who don’t appear to have a day job).

Whenever I go to the West Coast I always wonder if I could make a go of it there, but the whole having-to-drive-everywhere thing is a big thumbs down. That, and the whole smog thing sort of freaks me out. I can’t imagine living in a place where you have days where you’re not supposed to go out because of pollution. Is it just me, or is there something wrong with living in a city where occasionally you aren’t supposed to breathe the air? Or where sometimes the ground beneath you may swallow you whole? Or where a simple flick of a cigarette can ignite a brush fire that goes on for days?

On the other hand, there are some great things about Cally: The number of Jamba Juices per square mile, for example, and IN-N-Out Burger. And the scenic drives provide mountain or seaside views. And if you can stand nippy toes you can wear flip-flops virtually all year round.

For now though, I don’t see myself going West anytime soon. I think New York City has treated me well thus far. I’ve never been a crime statistic, unless you count the highway robbery I pay for my apartment relative to other cities.

In other news:

My boy Ilan, my pick from the start, is the winner of Top Chef! I’m glad I got to see him cook at Casa Mono before he quit. I was thisclose to him while I was peering over the bar where the line chefs cook, trying to look at all the strange ingredients they use in their food there (a lot of it is offal). Now onto Top Design!

Speaking of bad Hollywood, doesn’t this REALLY make you want to watch The Wicker Man? At least you can say that Nick Cage throws himself into his work, no matter how inadvertently hilarious.

Speaking again of bad Hollywood (or London's West End), Harry Potter's all growed up, and I feel dirty for wondering how on earth he got that six pack and whether he's really nude in those publicity shots.