Here at Pico we try to avoid commenting on political controversy, mostly because A) we’re lazy B) it’s in our mission statement and C) it’s over by the time we get around to noticing such controversy exists. So we respectfully decline to comment on the cover of a particular literary magazine that's been buried under a pile of our mail for about 2 weeks. Fist-thumping Muslims aside, we were thrilled to discover (albeit a bit belatedly and from our favorite porcelain reading chair) that there are some real gems to be discovered within the pages of that very same issue.
To Wit: Best. Dinner Party Idea. Ever.
We especially like #4 and #7, and plan to try one (or both) in the very near future. As pretty much everyone who reads us ends up at our house for dinner sooner or later, accept this as your warning that dog biscuits may be on the menu in the very near future.
#14 is of course, our favorite. Does anyone out there remember the “Syphilis is back” poster ads that graced bus stops along La Brea Avenue last year? Those much-needed PSAs are much missed in our hood. Apropos of well, nothing, and for lack of a better segue from food-borne illnesses to STDs, we proudly present dessert.
Happy Tuesday, y'all.
PS: Just in case you've yet to sort through the mail or read all of mid-July's political commentary, here's that pesky cover. Don't say we never gave you anything.
Coming home for the holidays gives you a new perspective on things that used to seem normal. My most recent revelation was about the strange coffee mugs my mom has in her kitchen cabinet.
It seems that drug companies like to give out mugs to doctors. This makes sense from a marketing point of view, I suppose, but when pouring a hot cup of coffee in the morning most people don't think about dosing for impetigo.
In case you're wondering, here are some more details:
And it's not just drug companies, either. Apparently state-run health programs give out mugs, too:
At least they're more creative than "World's Best Mom!"
N here. While K has been off in a football-induced stupor, I've been traveling. It's all work-related and not so droll, but I couldn't resist this special postcard from the road. Well, the runway. At the Sonoma County airport (STS), security is a major concern. I counted no less than seven TSA agents in the one-room security trailer. Yep, I said trailer. Also noted the two gigantic American flags (I'm all for flags, but right next to each other?), and at least six of the above signs posted throughout. There's only one commercial carrier (flying turbo-props, no less), and only four flights per day, but the ganja seems to be a major problem in these parts. Oh, and the airport bar has free wifi and serves Stella Artois on tap. All reasons to make STS my new favorite port o call. If The Ramp were actually inside the Burbank airport, I might have to reconsider. Suffice to say that for now, Santa Rosa rocks.
Well, not quite like it did in the olden golden days of running into the likes of CC Deville in the baked goods aisle, but for those of us living in Hollywood, the Ralphs on Sunset is back in black and better than ever. Boasting a whole new deli section with a wider global selection of our favorite sundry: cheese (though if you expect the cheese-monger behind the counter to know her mozzarella from ricotta, you're better off at Whole Foods). Yeah, we admit it: most things you can find cheaper at Trader Joes, but when we need milk after 9pm RnR Ralphs is quick clip away. Expect to still wait 20 minutes for a stick of gum (we have yet to see those self-checkout lanes work) and the same old surly service, but the remodel came complete with a pharmacy so we can have our meds filled while we shop--and where would rock n roll be without the drugs, right?
Anyway, grand re-opening festivities last weekend included celebrity appearances. Check em out:
This photo also made craptastic cell photo of the week over on LosAnjealous--props to the Pico paparazzi! After we contacted Ryan, our next call was People magazine.