Last week, the Santa Ana winds tore through Pasadena and kicked the crap out of my neighborhood. It was a natural disaster in a major city, but the media treated it like a bad traffic jam. They did not even try to give the storm a cool name, like Windocalypse or Stormy.
You know why the media basically ignored Windocalpyse? Because it hit suddenly and with unexpected intensity - so the media did not get a chance to go into pre-storm panic mode and predict The Coming of the End of Days. And, fortunately, no one died - so the media did not get to speculate about the death toll. Who wants to report on power outages and fallen trees? BORING.
But Windocalypse was a natural disaster, and it caused a lot of damage. Thousands lost power for days. In Pasadena, more than 400 trees fell, landing on houses, fences and cars. The streets were literally dammed with trees, as if hoards of devil beavers had attacked Pasadena during the night.
The City of Pasadena has done a five star job cleaning up the mess. My only complaint is that I have forfeited my right to complain about the City (and come on, who doesn't like to complain about the government?)
While I was taking a walk in my neighborhood this weekend, I saw this holiday sign:
Let's just zoom in on the sign:
My neighbors lost their white picket fence during the storm, and now they are wishing everyone "Happy Holidays." Or are there?
I cannot decipher the intended tone for this message. Do the owners mean "happy holidays" as in "let's hang the stockings, drink some egg nog and count our blessings - we're so lucky we just lost this old fence"? Or, do they mean "happy holidays" as in "we maxed out our credit cards on Black Friday, Grandma Edith started drinking again during the storm, we forgot to renew our homeowner's policy last month, so Santa can take our picket fence and shove it up his you-know-what"?
My Inner Cynic tells me it's the latter. But, in the spirit of the season, I've decided it must be the former. Maybe Santa will bring them a new picket fence for Christmas.
I love magazines. I hate to criticize something I love, but ... I'm going to.
Magazines offer advice about how I should live my life: eat these foods, use this face wash, travel here, do these stomach crunches, buy this coffee table, etc., etc. The magazines seem to offer good advice. Eat more salmon? Take deep calming breaths? Buy some ankle boots for the fall? Sounds good to me!
But, in case you haven't noticed, I'm a cynic. A cheerful cynic, but a cynic nonetheless. And so I have my doubts.
If the magazines give me good advice, and I follow that advice, then I will, presumably, reach my full potential as a 21st century woman.
And if I reach my full potential as a 21st century woman, then I won't need to read magazines anymore. I'll spend my evenings reading Dante and drinking peppermint tea, instead of reading magazines and eating a large bowl of ice cream.
So, is it really in the magazine's interest to offer me the best advice possible? Shouldn't they only give me enough advice to keep me coming back for more?
Or, I know I'm being paranoid, but: shouldn't a magazine give me bad advice? For example, let's say a fashion magazine extols the virtue of capri pants - you'll look like Audrey Hepburn! I buy a pair of capri pants, but alas, I have short legs and capri pants make me look like an asshole. Now, instead of feeling like Audrey Hepburn, I feel insecure and miserable. I descend into a shame spiral, eat too many donuts, and buy ... more magazines.
I probably should have named this blog "The Cynical Pumpkin."
I love my neighborhood. It feels safe and friendly, and I wouldn't be surprised if I ran into the Brady Bunch or the Munsters (the Munsters would be the BEST neighbors, end of discussion).
This morning, I took a walk in my neighborhood. A police car drove past. I thought, Oh good, I'm glad we have the occasional patrol car passing through, just to keep things safe. Then I noticed that the police car had stopped in the middle of the street and drawn alongside... another police car?
Two police cars in my neighborhood? What the effing eff?
I suppose this could just be a happy coincidence. Police Car A was probably just recommending a donut shop to Police Car B.
Or maybe they were searching for a serial killer?? Was it safe to keep walking around my neighborhood on this fine, sunny morning? Should I go home immediately and barricade the house? Holy crap, maybe there are two serial killers loose in the neighborhood!
And yes, in case you were wondering, sometimes I can be a little cynical.
