Only In My L.A.

So last Sunday was a Malibu kind of a day. In the morning, I kicked it on a private beach with the likes of Julia Roberts’ husband and kids, a doctor from Scrubs tossing around a frisbee, Ryan O’ Neal …  even Mike D from the Beastie Boys was busy getting respect.

Although, in fairness to the keen and genius observation of my dear Mother Drucker, Mike D did look eerily like an older Jewish mother from back east. All he needed was some clip-on earrings and loud makeup and Mrs. Goldberg’s doppleganger would have been in full effect.

Anyway, it was just a typical errry day Sunday Fun Day experience for me. Not like I recently moved down to the Orange Curtain after a traumatic time in New York and the one celebrity I’ve seen in months before this was Miss Cleo at the Trader Joe’s or anything. (Actually, here’s a better clip of her).

Later on that afternoon, as I stood in line at The Malibu Fish Grill on PCH, wearing a cowboy hat that looks like I snatched it straight out of a beer commercial (hey, this is LA., you have to look the part; besides, we fear wrinkles more than earthquakes), the man in front of me felt the need to put the smack down on his kid.

So what do you think he said?

Ripley!!! Don’t make me tell you again. Go stand over there with Pixie.

 Umm, I’m sorry?  At first, I couldn’t believe my ears, but as I walked over to the tables to eat, it sunk in just what we’re doing to the LA chilluns. And it’s nothin’ nice.

Because on my way, I also heard ‘Berkeley’s’ sister getting very, very upset with her. Jeez, little sisters can be so bratty sometimes. That ‘Pepper’ really laid into her.

 Pepper: A condiment, or a child’s name?  You decide.

I know this may sound like I’m making it up, but sometimes, truth really is stranger than fiction.  Especially in my L.A., which often feels more ‘mirage’ than ‘city’ anyway.

So next time you decide to pray (even though we don’t really do that here, we’re  a much more ’spiritual but not religious’ crew),  send out a little love to the Children of L.A why don’t you.  From the looks of things (and in L.A. that’s all that matters), they need all the help they can get.