WHY GOOGLE MAPS RULES MY WORLD

Let's say you get into a heated debate about where to find the best ice cream in Los Angeles. You think Scoops is the most delicious ice cream in not just L.A., but the whole wide world. Your misinformed friend, however, thinks Diddy Riese is superior because you can get an ice cream sandwich for a buck-fifty. As your argument over the relative merits of brown bread ice cream versus two freshly-baked cookies becomes more heated, you decide the only way to resolve this debate is to jump in the car and sample both varieties for yourself.

Right now, at 5:15pm on a Wednesday, this is what your trip would look like:



Not so pretty. The 405 and the 110 will make you want to cry, and then you'll be in a bad mood for ice cream.

Now this is why Google Maps is awesome for an Angeleno. They've added a function where you can check average traffic conditions for any day of the week, between the hours of 5 AM and 9 PM. This way you can find an optimal time to go on your ice cream adventure:







I'd choose Tuesday at lunchtime, wouldn't you?

This new function is perfectly designed for the traffic-addled residents of Los Angeles. Bravo, Google. Bravo.

P.S. The aforementioned ice cream debate is clearly fictional, as everyone knows that Scoops has the best ice cream on the planet.

MY 10 THINGS TO LOVE ABOUT LOS ANGELES*

In the holiday spirit, and in the spirit of the year drawing to a close, K suggested I write a list of 10 Things I Love About Living in This Town. Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, I had trouble keeping the list to just 10 things (apologies to fellow contributors/comment-makers Dahoud and Mr. N, both of whom are probably having a fit right now that anyone could find 10 things to love anywhere). It's late and I've been nipping at the old nog a bit, so I might delve a bit deeper than our loyal readers are used to going, but bearing with me holds its own rewards:

1) The Light. Much has been said of our sunsets, but to me, the light in LA is wondrous all the day long. We all need a good healthy dose of Vitamin D every once in a while. But in LA, the daily UVA is delivered in such gorgeous golden tones as to inspire an entire industry (see: film), multiple essays, theories and odes to it. It's incredible. Anyway, 2008 marks five years of my repatriation as an Angeleno. I've learned that the light here has ruined my ability to live anywhere else for any extended period of time. See: S.A.D. Chalk it up to latitude, the special refractory bowl that is the LA Basin and the curve of the coast, or just magic, but I can't live without it.

2) The Landscape. The following anecdote is also closely related to my above reason for loving LA, and it wouldn't be possible were it not for our unique geography. I was heading east on the 210 freeway a few days ago to visit the extended N clan just before dusk. Somewhere around Monrovia, I noticed the gorgeous glowing oranges of sunset in my rearview mirror. And to my right, the fantastic salmon tones of the mountains, reaching clear across the horizon, so sharp and so close. I could even see snow bouncing the last rays of the day from the slopes of Mt. Baldy. I looked back in the rearview mirror to see palm trees outlined in orange. I looked forward to the open highway heading east, and the now purple mountains. I looked back to the palm trees. I looked forward to the mountains. I looked back. I looked forward. I almost slammed into the car in front of me. That's how stunned am I sometimes by the sheer beauty of where we live. We got the city, we got the beach, we got the mountains. It's pretty awesome. Granted, we got the valley and the traffic and the smog, too, but on a clear winter day, there's not much that can get me down.

3) The Food. Forget the frozen yogurt wars (the cognoscenti all know that regardless of whether your berry is pink or your cupcake is sprinkled, Scoops has the dessert market cornered in this town), I'm talking about street food: the grandmothers selling tamales from shopping carts in West LA, hot dogs wrapped in bacon on top of trashcans in Hollywood, and chili-pepper corn in East LA. Also, the sheer variety of places to eat, regardless of your budget, and the hard-working families who make those places so special. You know my love for Bombay Grill, but I also love that ethnic food isn't ethno-centric in LA. Where else can you find restaurants with Mexicans serving Indian food, Koreans serving Mexican food, and Guatamalans running the floor at a Jewish deli? Diversity isn't just for your stock portfolio, people--it tastes damn good, too.

4) The people who sit in coffee shops all day on their laptops. We all know they're just checking email and updating their Facebook pages while appearing to write the next big screenplay, but I love them. And I love that a stellar screenplay, novel or blog post probably does live in their hearts. This is the land of dreams, and it takes a lot of creative people wishing, wanting, and doing to attract the muses. Bring it on, I say. No one in LA is just a waitress, or a bookkeeper, or a Pilates instructor. Plenty of cynics will rehash how cliche and annoying the cafe layabouts are, but I find them refreshing and inspiring. And we're not all actors, BTW. Some of us are aspiring commercial airline pilots and ninjas in training, so there.

5) People who actually watch movies without talking, using laser pointers, answering their cell phones, standing up to stretch, throwing things, or generally stinking up the place. I've been subject to all of the above disrupting my favorite two hours of the week, but never in Los Angeles. Maybe it's cuz I'm a snob and stick to places like the Arclight where the above behavior is not tolerated, but I also like to think it's because so many of us here, working in the 'biz or not, simply respect the medium and all the work that went into it (see #4). Then again, now that tickets cost $14, you gotta respect something.

6) Canyon shortcuts. Traffic sucks, especially trying to get anywhere on the other side of the hill. But I never tire of driving over the canyons. I love these little enclaves of precipitously perched homes, scenic vistas, and clutch-burning climbs. Whether swinging around blind curves on Beachwood Canyon only to meet the Hollywood sign face to face, gunning through rock n'roll history on Laurel Canyon or avoiding the madness of the central Hollywood fun-zone on Outpost (shhh-don't tell) to Mulholland, I never tire of the thrill found in escaping up and over. It even helps soften the blow of landing in the Valley, because at least I know I can always go back the way I came. The 101, or the 405, however, is not as certain, but that leads me to my next favorite thing about living in Los Angeles:

7) Freeways. Yep, I said it. I was born to drive, and am probably better suited to the Autobahn than LA's freeways, but apparently the Germans have adopted speed limits and it's just not the same. For those of you who know me, and know my love of public transporation and deep-seated shame at not having a better option for my morning commute than spending an hour to go 10 miles in my car, this may seem a rather strange favorite thing--AND YET. I drive surface streets at rush hour, but given the alternative, I always choose the freeway. It's sick and strange, I know, but freeways make me feel secure. Whenever I'm lost, if I can find a freeway onramp, any onramp, as soon as I climb onboard the concrete trail, I know exactly where I am and where I'm going. There's nothing like the endless stretch of asphalt into the palm-laden horizon to get my juices going. We'd be better off without them, I know, but sometimes you've gotta love the one you're with. I just wish there were more murals along the way. Like the Olympic-era murals on the 10/5/101 interchange downtown. Can we revive those?

8) My friends. Anyone who says LA people are stupid and (we hear it lots) fake are ignorant fools. Some of the finest folk in the world live here. Get out there and meet them.

9) The music. As diverse as the food, any night of the week. For more details, check out LosAnjealous.com . I think those folks go to a show every night and they're always in the front row (just look at the pics). Seriously, so many venues, so many artists and occasional rock stars to choose from, and so little, little time.

10) Pico Boulevard, duh.

*Special thanks to photog Lloyd Prudhomme for letting us use his gorgeous pic of the LA skyline above. Check out more of his work here.

Happy New Year, People.

WHAT'S GOING ON IN DAHOUD?

So you’ve jumped on the Global Warming bandwagon and bought yourself a Prius. Good for you! Well, having taken six years of Latin in High School, you can trust me when I say that the word “Prius” loosely translates to “blowhard.” Actually, the word “Prius” in Latin translates to “first,” as in the first person to point out that they are driving a hybrid and single-handedly saving mankind by getting 45 miles per gallon as opposed to 35 miles per gallon (Pico reader John pointed out that the 1987 Honda Civic CRX HF got an EPA rating of 57 miles per gallon a full 20 years before the hybrid craze). However, telling everyone that they drive a hybrid just isn’t enough for Prius owners, as they are compelled by their inner-Gore to make their car a mobile picket sign. Prius owners have been known to take such bold and controversial stands with their bumper stickers as “trees are good,” “abortions are legal,” “animals are nice, and therefore eating them is mean,” and “tolerance is preferred to intolerance.” The only thing more infuriating than watching these assholes fly past me on the 405 with their neon yellow “Access Ok” stickers plastered beside their “PETA” bumper stickers, is being forced to go through the added disgrace of reading their personalized license plates for an hour and forty-five minutes on my commute home. Some of the choice Prius plates I have seen this week have been:

"OILBGON”

The driver of this Prius is under the impression that her purchase has relieved her of the burden of relying on fossil fuels. Apparently her car runs on the same contraption that Kevin Costner had in Waterworld whereby she can urinate in her gas tank and emit purified drinking water.

"LIVEGRN”

Yah, live green man. Meanwhile, this Prius owner’s backseat was filled with plastic shopping bags. Until this guy shops with hemp bags that he harvested and wove himself, and his children use loin-skin diapers made from raccoon pelts, he can keep his preaching plate to himself.

“PRDIIB”

This Prius owner had an American flag license plate frame, reminding us that one can think green and be proud to be an American. Bold.

“COXZIST”

Why didn’t we think of this before? Israelis and Palestinians put down your arms because the guy in the Prius said that we should all coexist and respect each others differences. Yeah, the guy in the Prius with the Dave Matthews t-shirt eating granola, he said we should just live in harmony. So, that should solve that problem. It’s so simple, yet so brilliant. Moron.

To further illustrate my point, West Hollywood has recently adopted the Prius as their parking enforcement vehicle of choice. God, I hate parking enforcement. Every year Forbes releases a list of the most respected professions, and “Parking Enforcement” continually ranks one notch below “Professional Child Rapist”. If I get one more chicken-shit ticket from these guys for not turning my wheel far enough into the curb, (even though I’m parked on a street with a 1% grade) I might just snap. Also, spare me the argument that “they are just doing their job,” because then the guards at Dachau were just doing their job too. So, there you have it…buying a Prius is like supporting child raping and Nazism. I hope you are happy with your purchase.

L.A. Traffic

Just a quick post to end the work day:



That's L.A. traffic on a Thursday at 7 p.m. By the way, red=bad.

Happy travels!

FORGET GPS, CALL BALOOGLE

So, we've discovered that N's brother, once known to the world as Baloney, has an uncanny ability--and has since a small child--to memorize streetscapes in his head and permanently etch them into his neurological pathways. Kinda like Rainman, except he doesn't particularly care for underwear. He's better than Mapquest, OnStar, and that asshole Tom Tom. He has since been renamed Baloogle by his lovely girlfriend who is somehow able to see past the chonies thing and embrace his more redeeming qualities. Like being a veritable Thomas Guide-Idiot Savant.

Last week, K was in the middle of Koreatown and had to get to Phillipe's, but kept getting turned around. She called Baloogle, and he was able to determine K's exact location in .3 seconds, and give her detailed, easy directions in an instant. Granted, this may seem like no big deal given the close proximity of these locations, but we've utilized his powers in places as far and wide as the Inland Empire, the Westside, Eastside, Pasadena, Southbay and the never-ending story that is the San Fernando Valley. Before we nominate him to the Justice League, we need to test out his powers, and we've enlisted you, loyal Pico readers, to help.

So far, we think his powers are limited to places he's been, even if only once, so if you live in Memphis, this may not work, but all of SoCal, including San Diego, is fair game.

Get lost, and give him a call: 909-702-6216. Report back here with your findings.

Thanks,

The Pico Team

LA TRANSIT TAKES IT UP THE A . . . . AGAIN

The Los Angeles Times reports today that our fab lawmakers have taken $1.3 billion from mass transit funds to balance the budget. Super! These guys are great aren't they.

"The cuts could imperil a variety of transit projects, most notably the Exposition Line light rail from downtown L.A. to the Westside, extending the Orange Line busway from Warner Center to Chatsworth, and building the Gold Line from Pasadena to San Bernardino County, said Roger Snoble, chief executive of the Metropolitan Transportation Authority."

I'm aware that $1.3 bil isn't much in the grand scheme of our traffic problem, but losing it sure doesn't inspire faith in the powers that be.

Got Signal?

Finally, what all of us here in the land of gridlock have been waiting for: the ability to use our words, not just our fingers, for personal expression the moment inspiration strikes behind the wheel.

Problem is, for the sailor-mouthed drivers such as myself, inspiration often comes with expletives. Nice how the messages on the ad have banal little blatherings such as "Go Team" or "Hello." You know what we all really want to say is "Get some balls m*therf*cker!" to the folks who choose to drive in the center of the road, at 15 miles per hour no less, through all the little residential streets on my commute around Melrose, turning my shortcut into a slowcut. How about the friendly, but direct "Got Signal?" for all those nimwits who slam on their brakes for apparently no reason then make a breakneck turn without warning? Or, when they cut you off, and, in the language of the dark ages, flip the bird? I'll just click my little remote the scrolling letters will read: "My Corolla eats Bentleys for dinner!" or something clever...

Okay, so that gives us two more phrases to save in my hypothetical frame...comment back and let us know what your scrolling plate would read....Prize for the wittiest, I promise.