April 2007 Archives

The neighbors to our right are currently trimming their hedges with a gas-powered chainsaw, and the neighbors to our left are blowing their grass trimmings with two gas-powered leaf blowers. Both houses are basically right on top of mine, and our windows are made out of paper. It sounds like I'm in a logging camp and smells like I'm at a truckstop. I'm going to pass out from the fumes.

Another shitty day in paradise.

Also, just for the hell of it, here's a nice photo of Kobe getting kicked in the nards by the real MVP.

I paused the game at halftime yesterday, feeling full of satisfaction about the Suns and about my life. The game had actually been over for several hours already, but I was watching it on TIVO thanks to an effective media blackout on my part. It was 5:30 PM. I went outside, stood on my front steps, and felt the sun forming melanomas on my face. Besides the dilapidated ice-cream truck playing a slow, off-key rendition of "Music Box Dancer" and the stray pit-bull tearing down the street, this was a perfect day.

I wanted to share the moment with my son.

Elijah was inside, on my bed, in my tiny, dark, musty bedroom, happily watching the entire first season of Challenge Of The Superfriends on DVD. I've rarely seen him look happier.

"Solomon Grundy is big and strong, but he's also very dumb," he said to me.

"Yes, I know that," I said. "I want you to come outside with me."

"Are we going to look for snails?"

"Sure."

We went outside.

"Where are the snails, daddy?" he asked.

"There aren't any," I said. "They usually only come out when it rains."

"Oh."

"But that's OK, because it's the most beautiful day ever," I said.

"It's nice and warm," said Elijah.

"Yes."

"Where is it cold right now?"

"Um."

"New York is cold."

"Sometimes."

"And Chicago. And Minneapolis. And Philadelphia."

"Those places are often cold, it's true."

"And..." he said. "What about Minnedelphia?"

"Yes," I said. "It's always cold in Minnedelphia."

"And Phillyapolis?"

"Yes."

"What about Chinewyorkgo?"

"Certainly."

"You know where it's always warm?"

"Where?"

"Costa Monica!"

"True."

"And Las Texas."

Elijah's world is so much better. I wish I could live there forever. Maybe I'll move after the Suns win the title.

Today, the Suns played four quarters of semi-perfect basketball, the Dodgers beat the Padres in 17 innings, and the Golden State Warriors cranked the overrated, mismanaged, thoroughly unlikable Dallas Mavericks. Rarely have I had such a good day as a sports fan. I shall remember this feeling always.

My actual life has also been pleasant of late. I sold six books after my panel at the L.A. Times Book Festival today. Six whole books! And who said literature doesn't pay?

As the week progresses, there will be many exciting announcements. And probably also dialogue where Elijah begs me to take him to a swamp so he can see a panther eat a manatee.

Suns 113
Lakers 100

Well, before last night, I was going to post this today:

"Daddy, the Suns are going to win tonight."

"How?"

"By hitting lots of home runs."

"How else?"

"Um, by winning?"

"Yes, but how?"

"A good tiger is going to come out of the sky to help them."

"OK."

"And a maned wolf."

"OK."

"A good one."

Where's your good tiger now, Elijah? Where's your maned wolf now? Don't worry, son, I don't blame you. Kwame Brown won't score 19 in one game again until February, and I doubt Steve Nash will score 10 or less again for the duration of the playoffs.

Oh, by the way, I was at the game last night. At the last second, my brother-in-law's cousin's husband got tickets from a guy he works with sometimes. The tickets were pretty mediocre 200-level jobs, but I was just grateful to be in the building. I also got to eat in the Stadium Club, where I brushed against Donald Trump. He was wearing a suit and I was wearing my Amare Stoudamire jersey and a vintage blue leather jacket.

The Donald checked me out.

"Where'd you get that jacket, man?" he said.

"My wife got it for me on ebay," I said.

"That's a good woman," he said.

The preceding exchange didn't actually happen. But it's better than talking about the game, or about my 30-minute walk home from the Highland Park train station. I've really got to live in a neighborhood where I don't expect to hear "Open up, police!" shouted randomly on the street at 11 PM.

As an endnote, my friend Jeff works next to the hotel where The Suns are staying. Yesterday, he sent me a fine digital photo of he and Mike D'Antoni at a smoothie joint. Today, he says, he saw the Suns getting on a bus, and D'Antoni apologized to him personally for last night's performance. "Sunday!" the coach said.

Go Suns! Do it for Jeff!

8 AM. Five minutes after waking.

Regina: "Did you hear that pigs are having kidney problems now, too?"

Neal: "Is that so?"

"Uh-huh. They're feeding them the infected grain."

"What a drag. Guess we'd better watch the bacon."

"Yeah. And you know what else? You know what they're also feeding pigs now?"

"What?"

"The corpses of dead pets. Which are also infected."

"Hmm."

"Like on Deadwood. Those pigs would eat anything."

"For God's sake, woman. I'm trying to eat my pancakes here!"

"Sorry."

Elijah: "Did pigs eat our dead pets?"

"Daddy?"

"Yes, son?"

"One of the Suns had a boo boo last game."

"Which one?"

"I don't know any of their names."

"OK."

"I think the Lakers are going to have a boo boo tonight."

"What kind of boo-boo?"

"Um. Um. Well. You see, a giant lion is going to come down from the sky and bite their arms off. And then he's going to eat them up."

"OK."

"Will you think that's hilarious, daddy?"

"Yes."

"Because it's going to happen. Then a hole is going to open in the floor and they're going to get swallowed by a giant mole."

"Sounds good."

"You know what I call the Lakers?"

"What?"

"The Evil Donkeys."

"That's a good name."

"The Suns are going to defeat those Evil Donkeys tonight."

Suns 126
Lakers 98

My fellow panelist Jill Soloway informed me today, in a highly personal mass email, that tickets to our Sunday afternoon LA Times Book Festival event, "Humor And Attitude," are almost sold out. I'm generally not a part of sold-out events, so this is very flattering, even if the selling out has nothing to do with me in particular.

Anyway, the event is at 1 PM on Sunday. In addition to Ms. Soloway, there will also be the fine comic memoirist Samantha Dunn and comedian Larry Miller. Moderating will be the always charming and insightful Meghan Daum. Buy your tickets here in advance, from an evil corporation.

Somewhere toward the end of the first quarter, I stormed off toward the kitchen, saying, "They're gonna blow it, oh man! This entire year, eight months, wasted! Worthless, overpaid, grumble grumble, and Diaw has just been horrible..."

"Daddy," Elijah said. "Stop whining."

"Touche," said Regina.

"What does touche mean?" Elijah asked.

"It means you got daddy good."

"I got you good, daddy."

"Yeah, yeah," I said.

Elijah replied,

"Now I'm going to throw the Lakers in the trash. Then I'm going to eat them as a sandwich, but an evil sandwich because they're made of evil meat. Then I'm going to turn them into lightbulbs and they'll have to light our whole house while we're making fun of them. Take that, evil Lakers!"

Then coach put in Barbosa, and there was joy in Sunsville.

Suns 95, Lakers 87.

Elijah has reached the age where nothing entertains him more than animals eating other animals. This causes him to ask us questions, sometimes hourly, like "which animals eat other animals in Egypt?" It also has a way of tinting his game play. For instance, a Go Fish game that we bought him, which features cards depicting cute cartoon fish, has instead turned into an epic fish-eating-other-fish battle for control of the seas. An "Animal Rummy" game produces the same results on land.

In times of extreme animal-eating-other-animal crisis, we turn to YouTube. Favorites include a pride of lions mauling the guts of a wildebeest, and a nasty little fight between a pack of hyenas and a marauding gang of African wild dogs. But the top of the line, by far, is an an epic battle between a jaguar and an anaconda, which seems to have been taken from a 1960s Disney nature film. Enjoy, and share with all your children.

After I dropped Elijah off this morning, I hung around the school's parking lot, waiting for Elijah's best friend's parents to show up. We needed their car seat, because Regina is taking the boys to the zoo today after school. This prompted many important dialogues in the car today, such as:

"Is the red panda part of the raccoon family?"

"Yes."

"And the coati?"

"Yes."

"What else looks like a raccoon?"

"I don't know."

"Under our house there are raccoons, badgers, spiders, mountain lions, spiders, and lizards. Aren't there?"

"Probably not."

"What's under our house, then?"

"I don't know."

"Is Mexico far away from Los Angeles?"

"No."

"But it's under us! That's far away!"

"Elijah," I said. "If I took off for Mexico right now, I could be there by lunchtime."

"I don't want to go to Mexico today," he said.

Argh. In any case, after I dropped off the boy, I was leaning against the school's front gate, sunning myself, waiting. His friend's parents are not efficient morning people, which is one of the reasons I respect them. A mom with whom I sometimes aimiably converse walked past.

"Want a cigarette?" I asked, though I didn't actually have one, and never do.

She leaned in conspiratorially.

"I could use a cigarette and a drink right about now," she said.

It wasn't yet 9:30 AM.

"I don't have to drive the rest of the day," I said. "I just might..."

At that moment, another mom walked up. Introductions were made.

"We're going to Chinatown," said my mom-friend. "Did you know that you can get really cute kid's shoes there for ten dollars? At that place next to the seafood market."

I took this opportunity to complain, at length, about the high price of children's shoes. This didn't hold their attention for long. They headed off for their cars.

"Have fun getting your drink on at home by yourself," said my mom-friend.

"Wait," I said. "I don't..."

I wanted to explain I'm not a daytime drinker. I'm not even really a night drinker. But it was too late. Then my guy pulled into the lot, we made the car-seat exchange, and I was off toward home.

Now it's 10:45 AM. I'm home alone because Regina has taken the dogs to the vet to get their blood tested for kidney poisoning. The Silver Surfer calls me with her siren song. For some reason, that song sounds like "Bali Hai" from the musical South Pacific. The Dodgers game starts at 12:05 today. I fear that I will not be able to resist.

While the federal government is going about the business of poisoning my house pets, I thought I'd go ahead and give my own kidneys the business on Saturday night. Please enjoy this Slate.com article about my recent trip to the All You Can Eat Pavillion at Dodger Stadium.

For those of you who want to watch videos of me talking about being a dad with another author who wants to be a comedian, go here. Thanks to the fine guys at Dad Labs for their interest.

Finally, I will call your attention to a new kids' music compilation from DeSoto Records. It's called PLAY, and it's been in heavy car rotation lately. Elijah loves every single cut, except for the Mudhoney one. A must-have for indie-music-loving parents (or just general music-loving parents everywhere.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go prepare myself for the inevitable vitriol from the Dodgers' PR office.

Yesterday, I emerged from the bedroom at 7:45 AM, which is, sadly, turning into my usual time. Regina had been up for an hour, monitoring the Internets for impeding signs of the apocalpyse. As usual, she'd found one.

"I have some news that you're not going to like," she said.

"Please don't tell me it has anything to do with his school."

"It doesn't."

"Thank God."

"Look at this," she said.

It was the website for Dick Van Patten's Natural Balance Pet Foods. And it contained a warning: "We are receiving consumer complaints regarding the Venison & Brown Rice Dry Dog Food, and Venison & Green Pea Dry Cat Foods. We do not know what is wrong with the food at this time, but we have heard that animals are vomiting and experiencing kidney problems..."

"Isn't Natural Balance what we feed the dogs?" I said.

"It was," she said.

We had, for months, been giving them the exact brands that were being recalled. Regina backed off on the brand early, after she got an early warning from a Petco checkout employee about the recall. The company is claiming that no other products were affected. And the dogs seemto be in tip-top health. But Regina did some investigation. Natural Balance says that they don't have anything to do with Menu Foods, the corporation that has inadvertently killed thousands of housecats worldwide. But did they share ingredients, suppliers, processing facilities? Why are our pets all suddenly experiencing kidney failure?

By 11 AM, it was determined that our dogs would go on a raw-food diet whose acronym , BARF, brought irony to a transcendent level. By 3 PM, Regina had decided instead on an independent brand of dog food that didn't contain corn or corn by-products. Meanwhile, her continued monitoring of important pet-owner bulletin boards led her to discover that cats and dogs all over Austin, Texas, in particular, were getting sick.

She sent out an email last night to our pet-owning friends in Austin. This morning, a friend wrote back saying, in effect, "I was wondering why my cats were vomiting last night." Meanwhile, Regina has grown suspicious. Hercules has been drinking more water than usual lately, and he's been peeing more often, and for longer. That's one of the symptoms, she says...And she wonders if the world's pet-food supply has somehow been sabotaged, industrially.

Pet Holocaust 2007 continues.

Reader Matt writes:

"Dear Neal,

I need to get a ruling on the following musical offerings:

http://www.babyrockrecords.com/web/page.asp

Someone gave my newborn the Radiohead CD and my first thoughts were "this is going to be beyond cheesy." However, after a few listens, I'm hooked and so is my little girl. Should I feel ashamed by this? Does this negate all of my street cred when it comes to Indie music? Should I embrace this as a vastly superior alternative to the evil Purple Dinosaur and other kids schlock of the same ilk? Should I immediately go out and buy the lullaby rendition of Nirvana?

Please help."

My answer after the bump.

Kurt Vonnegut's Breakfast Of Champions was one of two books (the other was Portnoy's Complaint) that broke open the possibilities of literature for me when I was a teenager. One of the first good pieces of writing I ever did was a retelling of The Three Little Pigs in the style of Vonnegut. I had good English teachers in high school. I hope that someday I can pass my love for his books down to Elijah. He seems to be developing into someone who might dig Vonnegut.

The only time I saw Vonnegut speak in person was in 1988 at Northwestern University. He disappointed me a little bit when he told students they should watch L.A. Law instead of read contemporary literature, though in retrospect that's one of the coolest things I've ever heard an author say. In any case, I'm so sorry he had to die during such a distressing time in his home country, but he put up some noble dissent in his last years. I mourn him today along with everyone else.

Notes on a lesser but still enjoyable literary career:

I'm going to be at a reception tonight at the Egyptian Theater to kick off the Los Angeles Noir film festival. I, along with many other writers, will be signing the terrific Akashic Books crime anthology L.A. Noir, to which I contributed a story. You can buy the book here.

Friday night, I'll be reading along with many others at Vroman's in Pasadena.

And on Saturday morning at The House Of Blues on Sunset, I'll be introducing The Sippy Cups.

You can't say I lack range.

Kurt Vonnegut, RIP.

Also waiting for our flight on Saturday (it was a long wait), I decided it was time to show Elijah one of my favorite movies.

"Elijah," I said. "We're going to watch a funny movie now."

"What is it?" he said.

"It's called The Naked Gun."

"That's not a real movie."

"Yes it is," I said. "It's about the funniest policeman in the world."

"That sounds good," he said.

"It's very good," I said.

And so we watched it. I immediately realized that I'd made a mistake. The movie is, well, a little violent for a four-year-old. And though he enjoyed OJ Simpson falling face-first into a cake and thought the fishtank scene was funny. about halfway through, he said, "There are too many explosions in this movie for me," and left the room.

Maybe when he's seven? At least I didn't have to explain the full-body condoms to him.

Saturday afternoon, while waiting to go to the airport. I was in my office. I heard an exchange.

"Elijah, why is Shaq wet?" Regina asked.

"I don't know," Elijah replied.

"Did you pee on him?"

"NO!"

"Are you sure? You were in the bathroom a long time."

"I DID NOT PEE ON SHAQ!"

"Elijah, I just smelled him. He smells like pee."

"OK," he said. "I peed on him."

"NEAL!" Regina said. "Elijah peed on Shaq."

"Jesus fucking Christ," I said.

"Elijah," she said. "If you ever pee on either of the dogs again, you lose your TV privileges for a month."

"YEAH!" I shouted from the back. "And maybe for longer!"

The discipline must have worked. Elijah hasn't peed on the dog since.

In a kind of perfect storm of diminished web traffic, my site registration renewal came up while I was on vacation, meaning that, for several days, loyal readers got a Register.com ad instead of my delightful daily content. Apologies given, and hopefully accepted.

Meanwhile, as I readjust my brain to the horrific daily burden of posting, please enjoy this column from Jewcy.com about my attempts to end Elijah's interest in The Backyardigans. My attempts have been successful. That said, he woke up at 6:30 AM, and our near-dawn survival solution was to plop him in front of two TIVO'ed episodes of The Wonder Pets. Very alternative.