Mooninites Invade Boston

Four 'Hoax Devices' Found in Boston

(CNSNews.com) - Four suspicious packages found in Boston, Mass., Wednesday turned out to be "hoax devices," the Boston Police Department said. The devices were found in four separate locations and were reported around the same time. One package was described as having wires and tubing around it, similar to an IED (improvised explosive device). The incident prompted the shutdown of an interstate, a main road and a bridge between Boston and Cambridge. Subway service was also shut down for some time across the Longfellow Bridge between Boston and Cambridge. The Coast Guard also shut down the Charles River on news of the incident.

While I certainly don't take terrorist threats lightly, I do find it amusing that the devices were actually light boards that looked like this*:
He's doing it as hard as he can, too.

*edited to protect the impressionable young persons who may see this.

100 block of N. Park View, Los Angeles, California

We'll be right back after these messages.

I love commercials. You know how some people can tell you about every video that played on MTV during the 80's? I can tell you about commercials. I love them. I'm an advertisers dream. In fact, when I tape a show, I don't fast forward through the commercials, unless it's late and the show is LOST and I really just want to find out what happened.

So, with that in mind, and with nothing else to say, here are some commercials that are tickling my fancy lately:

Don't you want me, Baby?--How cute are those Chips Ahoy cookies in their little red convertible with their little seat belts singing along to their "Totally 80's" CD--until a dark shadow descends upon them and they are picked off one at a time by a ruthless killer. I love the look on the driver's face as he realizes what's happening a second too late. A thought occurred to me last night: What's going to happen to the car? It's going to plunge over that cliff. I can hear the highway patrol now, "There's no evidence of foul play, but it appears the passengers were eating cookies before they abandoned the vehicle."

Helpful Honda Salesmen--There's a new series of Honda ads in which people complain about dishonest car salesmen and the Honda salesman apologizes and ends up doing some dirty job around the house to be helpful. So the one in which the guy gets the bait-and-switch on a truck deal, he calls the dealer a tool. He actually says, "What a tool." (hee hee--he said "tool.") I don't know why, but "tool" used in a derogatory manner makes me giggle involuntarily. Roy, back me up here. We all know he means, "What a dick." I can't believe they used "tool" instead of "jerk" or something. I'm still giggling. Also, I love that he makes the Honda guy put together Ikea furniture.

Vons Super Bowl--This one will only make sense to Angelinos, unless there's a Vons sister store like Albertsons/Sav-On has Jewel/ Osco in the Midwest. Okay, so you know the commercial with the paper doll people preparing for a Super Bowl party? Listen carefully when the marching band comes out of the cooler and marches across the living room. I think it's supposed to be a tuba, but it totally sounds like the band has the walking farts. Oh, don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about. Farts make me giggle, too. I'm right there with you, Laurie. [If you really don't know what the walking farts are, listen to a Larry the Cable Guy CD--don't you dare judge me. Rednecks is funny.]

Vee Dub in da house--How great is Peter Stormare in those Volkswagen "Unpimp your auto" commercials? Rockin' da German engineering, yah? Volkswagen always has some great commercials, and I'm not just saying that because I drive one. Does anyone remember the Cabrio ad in which these 20-somethings drive at night to the backing music of Nick Drake's Pink Moon? It's beautiful. Or the ad when they were introducing the new Beetle convertibles to the tune of ELO's Mr. Blue Sky? I've been practicing making the VW sign with my fingers, but haven't quite mastered it yet. Plus in LA, it might get me killed.

Honorable Mentions:

• The cell phone ad in which the Dad text messages his kids at the dinner table. The son's delivery is perfect.
• The T-mobile ad in which the younger brother picks his sisters hot friends to be in his five. I like the mom's nod at the end.
• The other T-mobile ads with Charles Barkley and Dwyane Wade (yes, that's spelled correctly), especially the one where the waitress thinks Barkley is his dad.
• The Honda Element ad with the crab (I Pinch), and the newer one where the crab is jealous. Okay, I like the French penguin too. I hate the Element though. I mean, what's with that plastic door?
• It's late now, but the Staples Christmas advertising with the panel of experts. I especially love Engerbert's winking and saying, "Take this to your mother."
• The Cheez-It commercial in which the little girl explains how they get the big cheese taste into the tiny crackers. Her face at the end is one I make almost daily because people just don't get me. (again, Laurie, I feel you)

We now return to our regularly scheduled program.

While my alarm gently beeps...

Just once I'd like to bake something without the sound of 8,000 smoke alarms in chorus. Okay, Dane Cook, there were not 8,000 alarms, but you could have fooled me. I am in no mood for noise today, so I ran from room to room removing batteries from every offending alarm and silence prevailed...for 10 blissful seconds. Then the wall alarm in the hallway beeped. ??? How can this be? I removed your battery? Why are you still beeping? HOW are you still beeping.
It turns out that this particular alarm is wired into the electrical system. I wonder if that has anything to do with the hall light not working, considering how Frau Pennypincher doesn't exactly hire the cream of the crop? Hmm...
Anyway, one tiny beep every 15 seconds is far more tolerable than a cacophony of beeps, so I went about my business. I baked brownies for Terrell at work, who's been bugging me about baking more ever since our company Christmas party, and chocolate chip cookies just because.

Last night, I braved the rain and headed out to the Knitting Factory, where there was no knitting going on, but wouldn't that be fun? All you Frolic Room-ers, we should try that. You know, show up with our knitting bags and act all confused when they tell us that it's just a name.
Anyway, the always-hot Tim Weber was playing with his band, SpectraSonic. I have to admit that I missed their first three songs because I was waiting in the wrong room. They were supposed to go on at 10:30. When has any band in LA gone on at the time they were scheduled to go on? I looked in the first room, and that wasn't them. I looked in the Main Stage room, and that wasn't them, but my God was the singer of that band hot. I checked my phone and it was 10:40. Hmm, maybe I'll look around some more. That's when I found the AlterKnit lounge (again, I really want to show up with yarn and needles. I mean, they're just asking for it.) and there was Timothy on stage rocking out and flirting with all the "mom's night out" women in front of the stage. I sneaked in, found some folks I knew and pretended I had been there the whole time. Timothy was great, as always. Honestly, I've seen Tim play rock and ballads, and even a classical piece, and he is fantastic every time. Plus he has a great stage presence.

After Tim's band, Sideshow Bob's new band took the stage. No, really. Here' s a bad cell phone picture of their lead singer. Somewhere in that blob of hair on his shoulders was a face. They spent 10 minutes saying "Check, check 1-2" into the microphone, to the point of being ridiculous. When he finally stopped, my friend Robin quipped, "That's our new song. It's called Ch-check, 1, 2." Once they actually started playing, they weren't so bad, but seriously, get the sound check over faster.
We left and outside the kids (Robin, her man, Sam, his wife, Destin and Aaron) were all heading to the Powerhouse, that dive over on Highland, which isn't quite a dive anymore. I wanted to move my car closer, so I said I'd meet them. Then, on my way to my car I got horribly dizzy and realized I hadn't eaten since breakfast at 8:30am. After 20 minutes trying to get from El Cerrito to Highland (2 stinking blocks) I gave up, flaked on my friends, and went home to eat a PBJ sandwich. Sorry Robin and Co.

I'm cranky, and you're stuck with me.

I'm cranky, folks. Lord Almighty, I could bitch for days...and I probably will, but not here. Here I'll just bitch for a few inches. What's got your favorite Gingham-clad blogger's panties in a bunch? Well, let's start with my asshole neighbors.
Somewhere in this pile of illegally dumped Christmas trees is a fire hydrant.
Can you see it? Neither can I, and I'm betting the fire department would be hard pressed to find it as well. These trees--there are five of them--have been piled along along the sidewalk here since just after New Year's Day. It should be noted that three of these trees, which are piled in front of my walkway, belong to the apartment complex next door. I know this because before the gardening company that services that complex showed up, they were piled in front of that complex. Then the gardeners decided that rather than dispose of the trees, they'd just moved them in front of my house. Thanks, Dick! I told my downstairs neighbor, as he was dragging his tree to the pile, that the city won't pick them up this way. He shrugged and tossed it on top anyway. That's his with the green stand still attached. I'm going to print out the flyer in English and Spanish and leave them in everyone's mailbox tomorrow, because I am sick of looking at and tripping over everyone else's fucking trash!

What else is on my list? Parking. I know, I know--"Parking in LA sucks" is a perennial gripe, so why waste blog space. Well, I'm not talking about parking in LA in general. I'm talking about parking on my street, a privilege for which I pay a yearly fee. Then this place opened and every trendy yahoo in the city has to stand in line for the right to be denied entrance. But first, they must park--badly--on my street. Tonight I drove around the block for 30 minutes to finally park a block away. I could have parked only 1/2 a block away, but the people on that street decided to park their trash cans in every viable parking space. Bite me!

Next up? Zachary and Sarah's Grandpa. This geezer has been in front of me on the 101 on two separate days. What are the chances? Now aside from the fact that he's driving around with the license plate frame that says "Happiness is...being Zachary and Sarah's Grandpa", he's brake happy for no apparent reason. Grandpa, I drive a stick. You remember them, don't you? from back in the good ol' days? Well, it's a pain in the ass when you brake for bingo. Cut it out!

I'm getting sick. I think it's bronchitis, since I'm prone to that sort of thing and my lungs hurt. I was in a bad mood all day today, until I noticed this in our bathroom at work:

I don't know why this delighted me so except that it reminded me of home and childhood. It's a hanger for a Dixie cup dispenser, in case you don't recognize it.
Also, on my way home, I drove past this:
A Carnival!!! Everybody loves a carnival, right? Well, except for you, Tina. It was small, but they had The Zipper, a Merry-go-round, something that look like that Bobsled ride, and a giant slide! (See Tina, not everything just goes around). Then I went to see my knittahs and spoke with my Katie on the phone, and that made me feel better.

The Revolution Begins...

Empire Center, Burbank, California



And completely unrelated, who drives this car? Sir Stinksalot? Can you see all the air fresheners inside?I count at least seven.

Thus ends my life of crime...or does it?

I was fingerprinted today. It was all very cool and electronic, so I didn't end up with inky fingers. Although, I think the man doing it was getting a little annoyed as he (pardon the expression) manhandled my hands to get the best prints. You know how it is when you're trying to dress a child and they stick their legs out straight and refuse to bend their knees? So you secretly end up wishing their legs were removable because you're already running late and it would be so much easier to put the pants on that way? What? I nannied. I have nieces and nephews. (Not you, Roy. You were an angel.)
Anyway, I think the fingerprint guy was secretly wishing he could pop my hands off my wrists. I wasn't trying to be difficult or anything, but he wasn't really forthcoming with the directions so I couldn't understand what he was trying to do. Now my prints are digitally winging their way to the FBI and Department of Justice for to have my background checked. I hope they don't find out about that time I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.

Afterward I looked at my watch and it was Noodle Time! mmm, Noodle Time--serving the finest in Thai-Japanese-Chinese noodles. I got the Beef Chow Mein (it's not just for British werewolves anymore). It smelled so good driving back to the office that I nearly pulled over and ate it in the car. Alas, I held out until I got back to my desk.

For the past couple of days, everywhere I look I see some cafe/coffeehouse/eatery advertising Boba. "What the heck is Boba and why is it so popular," I've asked myself. While waiting for my order at NT, I saw a poster that actually read "What is Boba?" I sauntered over. Boba, it seems, is tapioca. (insert involuntary gagging sounds) Tapioca? In drinks? (gags again) In case you haven't guessed by now, I loathe tapioca. Someone ordered a boba drink while I was waiting and the mixing and sealing machine was fascinating, but still, EW.