We’re sitting in the car at Q and 15th, waiting for the light to change. There’s a coffee shop on the corner, with outdoor tables and a neon sign in the window.

“Mama, why do they call that place ‘The Naked Lounge?’ What is it?”
“Oh, it’s a good coffee shop—best lattes in town—“
“Why do they call it, uh—naked–?”
“I don’t really know—to get your attention maybe? There’s nothing naked going in there that I know of—”
The light changed to green , thank goodness, as both my daughters peered into the dark cafe to see what exactly might be happening in the Lounge.
We then turn left onto 16th Street, and the corner ad there proclaims “Hot Italian” alongside a sexy black and white enlarged photo of Sophia Loren. My husband gives me that look, the out-of-the-corner-of-the-eye look, and we both laugh.

Which comes first–a naked lounge, or a hot Italian? Whatever–I’ll take mine hot, and to go, please. Keep the change.

The news is out. The I-5 honeymoon is over. This morning, the commute was back to normal (ie packed) on I-5 Northbound into the city.

This evening, the wonderful respite from bumper-to-bumper Southbound is alas, also gone. I particularly enjoyed last week’s cruise after entering the freeway on W Street and being able to drive the speed limit all the way to the 43rd Street offramp.

Unfortunately, C.C. Myers rained on my vehicle-free I-5 parade. Open on time? Open early? Are you kidding?

They’ve done too good a job at keeping us all in the loop. I imagine the buses are back to empty and the light rail has minimized from sardine to regular standing room only commutes.

At least I have something to look forward to after Independence Day. I-5 shall close again, and there will be at least 2 or 3 people celebrating the fact. (You, me, and that CHP officer sitting for endless hours in the vehicle blocking the ramp–when does he get to use the restroom?)

I’m so happy about it, I may ride the Light Rail, or perhaps I’ll take the bus in to work. Maybe I’ll even get back on my bike. In any case, I’m looking forward to the second honeymoon…I-5, we shall dance again.

We got good stuff here. I know, I know, you save money if you stay close to LA. But I was watching The Jane Austen Book Club this evening, which is set in Sacramento, and, living here, it distracted me that so many places just don’t exist, or weren’t what they were. Just open the phone book and call someone who lives in Sacramento to find out that no school in this area is called “U” for instance.

One character says he lives at “Vista Mar” - something you get a feeling is a bit like an Elk Grove housing development. If you google that, you get something called Mar Vista Apartments in Rancho Cordova.  Shrug.

Oh, and while our airport is relatively small, it’s a darn site bigger than the Deco Gem that is Long Beach Airport.

I know it’s a small complaint, but at least for the names of stuff - that’s free to get right, even if you can’t shoot on location.

KSAC, formerly Talk City, formerly a progressive radio station, formerly a station on which I used to listen to Christine Craft…has gone back to Jesus. No, this is no April Fool’s joke. Christine Craft actually stepped off of that station months ago, and now it has transmuted into a mouthpiece for the Gospel.

I appreciate religion, but where to go now for a dose of progression? I can go to church to hear about God, or I can turn on the radio. Somehow this seems like a liberal’s (and I’m not a liberal–believe it or not) or anyone who is for freedom of speech, freedom of religion’s worst nightmare. Our city is one location in the Orwellian Animal Farm, where the freedoms are restricted one bit at a time. Soon you’ll have to wear your crucifix like an identity badge. A data chip in the cross and your local pastor will know how often you’ve gone to church, how you’ve voted, and whether or not you practice birth control. Somehow none of that seems to fit with what I was taught about in the United States in grammar school.

What’s happened to the local, inspiring, outspoken figures like Michael Newdow and the Pearcys?

I guess I have to go to San Francisco to hear the “progressive word” because no matter how we look at it, Sacramento’s still (firmly entrenched) in the Dark Ages.

Note: Someone will call it a “free market” and say the demand just wasn’t there for a progressive radio station. I will respectfully disagree in advance.

If you see a bee buzzing around, it might be one of the few survivors from yesterday’s overturned big rig on Highway 99.

What I found most amusing was this excerpt from the report in the Bee (which incidentally is another coincidence):

Getting information about the incident wasn’t made any easier when CHP Officer Michael Bradley, reached by phone at the scene, had to sign off abruptly while he went at it with a bee in his car. Once he got that situation under control, Bradley was back on the line.

I can just imagine the drama. Stay tuned for the local production of “Officer and the bee.”

The latest news about the 19-year-old who escaped from the courthouse Tuesday is almost as bad as trying to represent yourself in court when you have no law degree–even when you have a law degree, things can get tricky. But this one…”breaking news” item about the alleged escapee calling the Sacramento Bee to discuss his case amazes me. I guess he’s watched too many movies and wanted to tell his side of the story. I think being convicted of car theft would come with a lesser sentence than evading arrest, etcetera and becoming a fugitive.

It’s just one more mistake in the domino game this guy is playing. One after the other, it all comes down.

Apparently a huge number of RT mechanics called in sick today. Could it be valid? Call me a Pollyanna, but the cold, rainy weather in Sacramento right now tanks. And in my office, the heating is not optimal, so we have people wearing parkas in their cubicles. Get cold, get sick. Cause and effect.

If I were working in a dank garage twisting stuff on a bus engine, I might catch a cold too. But then again, I just may be “sick” of my contract or “sick” of how management is running things. I might also be “sick” of not having decent health insurance.

If that’s how it works, maybe I’ll just call in sick to the presidential elections. That might help things. As if.

I went to Crest Theater last night, to watch the Orphanage, and as I sat down I was asked, “Do they have screenings here?” I didn’t quite understand the question, looked puzzled, and thankfully the question was rephrased; “Do they do other events here? That’s a big stage.” Aha! I understood and rambled off the number of events they house in the theater: film festivals, concerts, lectures, and standup comedy performances.

While listing the events, it occurred to me the diversity the Crest offers up. In order to survive, and creep towards profitability, the Crest has adapted. I suddenly was impressed with the Crest. I was also, suddenly, and equally, disappointed with the Tower Theater. The Tower seems to consistently bemoan it’s inability to compete with the new movieplexs (Oh no! Not the big bad Cine Arts complex on K Street!).

Tower seems focused on their value as a landmark; they foolishly bank on their history as their meal ticket. Meanwhile, the insides are dilapidated, and I don’t blame anyone for fleeing to another theater. “Wait,” they cry, “it’s not our fault! We don’t have the money to spruce the place up!” Well, Tower, I’d suggest you figure out a way to augment that meager art film income. Crest looks for other income streams, why shouldn’t you?

In fact - call me a bastard if you want - if those who run the Tower are to stupid to try something new, I hope the place does get torn down.

Yes, the possibilities are nigh on endless.

Whatever you choose to call yourself, this particular Sacramendicant availed himself of the Dine About Town this past Monday night. $30 for a 3-course meal at any of several restaurants. I wandered by Ella round about noonish, and asked the perky hostess if I could get a reservation for that evening.

“Sorry, we’re all booked up. We’ve got a waiting list…what time would be good for you?
“You know, I’ll take any time. I’m easy like that.”
“All right. I’ll put you down for “Any time!!!!”

Yes, she did actually give me four sassy exclamation points on the reservation sheet.

That was obviously the key, for when I called back around 1:30, the answerer told me, “Four exclamation points, eh? I guess we’ll have to fit you in. 5pm or 7:45?”

I went with later.

I got there at 7:00 on the nose to find…
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It’s New Year’s Eve. You know what that means. Time to go get shitfaced! Woohoo. ‘Cause binge drinking is fun, right? Well, I don’t really think so, but hey, whatever floats your boat.

Oh, except, can you do me a favor? I know, I know, you’re a tough guy or a hard-drinkin’ woman. You can handle your booze fine. And you live in the grid or just out at Arden or just over in Natomas, so you can probably make it home, right?

And of course, drunk drivers themselves are usually fine, right? You’re all lose and relaxed. You bounce. You don’t die. They do.

It IS murder though. You know that, right?

So don’t do it. You have options:

Try RT.

Call the Designated Driver’s Association of Sacramento at (916)335-5555. Their volunteers are available on New Year’s Eve to give you AND your vehicle a safe ride home.

Take a cab. The wait might be long, but a protracted vehicular manslaughter case takes longer.

Call AAA, even if you aren’t a member, for a FREE ride and a tow home: 1-800-222-4357

Don’t be a murdering fool.

Happy New Year. (click below for more fun stats and warning signs)
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