The Newest Angeleno (There Are No Culver's in Culver City)
Meet
Los Angeles' newest resident: J-Dub.
My new address, effective 8/5 (when I move back): 11910 Jun!ette St., Culver City, CA 90230-6230. (Don't be fooled--Culver City proper is four blocks to the east. I'm all L.A., baby.)
I'll be living in a little house in a pretty serene neighborhood. My housemate/landlord is Randi, a 40-something financial planner who is pretty laid back and likes sports and poker. Should work out just fine. (Not that I'm ever really home.)
What have we done this week?
Met some interesting people: Gina, my almost-roommate, who works for Jeopardy! and Wheel of Fortune; Joyce, whose massively huge eyeglasses reminded me far too much of Theatre 6's
Ch*ryl Bl@ck, and Walt, a strange, obsessive-compulsive neat freak whose home included far too many oil paintings of nekkid ladies.
I also found a license plate in the road whilst waiting to make a left turn. It was a front plate (no stickers) and was still bolted to a plastic holder, which was doing its "hold the license plate" job quite well, but had failed the "remain attached to car" portion of its calling in life.
I had two basic options at this point: go to a police station, or to the DMV. For those of you in states with reasonably competent, efficient DMVs like Wisconsin or Missouri, this may have been an option. The reason so many comedians and actors make fun of the DMV is that they are mostly from California, where the DMV runs with Mizzou-style bureaucracy, only with older software.
That option ruled out, I head for the Santa Monica cop shop. I was in L.A. at the time, but the local LAPD was in the opposite direction, and I figure SanMo can look up a license plate and call the owner just as well as anyone else.
In fact, it took 5 minutes and 3 employees to decide what to do in this novel situation. It's not like I was O.J. bringing in the "real killer." Apparently my jurisdictional faux pas of crossing the city line with found property was complicating matters. They were dangerously close to telling
me to take it to the LAPD (in which case I would have left the damn thing in the street in front of the SMPD) when they agreed to cowboy up and take the thing.
Now leave me alone, I have law school homework to finish, and then back to Wisconsin.