It is pretty amazing how quickly things change. LA was very Londonish yesterday as the smokey sky spewed pH 4 rain for almost the entire day, paving the way, I guess, for today’s sunny blue skies and Cupid clouds. Throw in a formation of birds sailing across today’s sky and the view of snow-capped San Gabriel mountains in the background , I was almost tricked into thinking it was fresh air I was breathing.

Bob, Brian, Tyler, Julie, Kevin, Jen, Hui Chin and I caught a Ducks-Hurricanes bout at The Pond. The Carolina Hurricanes used to be the Hartford Whalers, hence the trip by former Conneticutan’s Bob, Kev and Brian. Anyway, the game went into overtime and ended in a 2-2 tie. This was my first NHL game as the only other hockey game I had caught to date were the San Diego Gulls, a second tier team.

Saturday night was pretty intense for Bob, who was hugged by Aurora, a go-go dancer at the Knitting Factory, a pretty full woman who he claimed to be the woman of his dreams.

Breakfasted on the outdoor patio at Jinkys the next morning. We were graced with the presence of drummer Brad Wilks of Rage Against the Machine; unshaven, dishevelled and pissed-off looking, seated indoors about 2 feet away from us on the other side of the glass, like a snake in a 30 gallon fish tank.

I was scheduled to have a conference call with a client at 9:30 today. It was 10 and I was barely pulling into the parking lot. I dashed to the side door of the building and grabbed the door handle. Zappppp!!!! I was stunned by the bluest, brightest, sharpest static jolt. I wanted to position my fingers into an L and blow out my smoking finger as though it were a gun. In the distance I could hear the California Energy Crisis Commission chant “He’s our saviour,” as they envisioned my ten fingers strapped to a spinning dynamo.

I’ve been through about 5 painful US winters and there is one thing I’ve picked up that prevents against static shock. Spit on the door handle.