cameraphone follies

I guess it stands to reason that L.A. would have an actual store where customers can purchase an ego boost. Where else does ego so grease the gears of the local economy?

Like so many other commodities, ego now comes in a variety of forms. Stroking, toadying, and empty flattery are popular. Less often mentioned but no less prevalent are such services as sucking up, brown-nosing, being buttered up and having sunshine blown up your ass. The sensitive nature of these deliveries naturally requires an establishment like the one pictured to be staffed by licensed egotologists, serving the demands of everyday egotists.

I was even thinking of getting into the ego business myself, and planned to name my own retail operation Leggo My Ego (trademark implications notwithstanding). But then I began noticing things like this:

Chalk it up to supply and demand. Come to think of it, most people I run into do seem to have ego to spare. Perhaps it’s due to Pilot Season, Awards Season, or the annual pilgrimage to Sundance… who knows. On the other hand, I’d think that the new season of American Idol would have upset the egosystem the same way it did in the past. Ergo, ego is a field I might do best to avoid.

Freshmakerccino?

Back in the day, the sleeve was for your protection. It was a 60% post-consumer fiber barrier between your precious drinking hand and the scalding side effects of an otherwise delicious cup of coffee. After a little while, corporate America inevitably got around to adorning the coffee sleeve with ad copy, or at least some brand marketing. Phew! My God, people - we can’t just have blank cardboard sitting there in people’s hands!

Today the coffee sleeve marketing channel took a turn for the absurd. I wouldn’t have known about this had I not needed cash to get out of the Encino Medical Center parking lot (proof positive that the Blog God watches over us all). The parking lot attendant told me that if I bought something with my ATM card in the coffee shop, they would give me change in cash. Thus did I end up with the Mochaccino Freeze pictured here, its gratuitous sleeve adorned with the sample packet of Altoids. So I was left there wondering, just how cold is this drink? Do I need gloves? If so, what kind of protection do you have for the inside of my mouth? Based on the evidence, my breath was the least of my worries.

As pretty much anyone surely would, I detached the mints and threw them away before I even took a sip. Turns out the mochaccino tasted like it had 60% post-consumer fiber ground up inside it (and possibly another packet of Altoids, wrapper and all). At least it got my car out of the parking lot.

When I first got my Treo, I didn’t foresee much use for the camera feature.

The problem with hair removal?
It should be more nutritious.

Turns out I was wrong. I seem to keep encountering things that simply must be captured on film, if only for the purpose of verification that I didn’t make them up. Something like the sign pictured here, that just can’t be fully conveyed as a verbal anecdote.

The establishment that had this sign adorning its window is called “Beauty Center” - a profoundly uninspiring store name if ever I heard one. In fact, it’s such a boring name for a business that I can’t help but wonder if they were thinking of re-naming it, and the sign was a test run of sorts for one of the new name finalists. In fact, I hope it was, purely for the sake of the owners. Who the hell is going to remember a beauty supply store called “Beauty Center?” “Fresh Tomatoes and Leg Waxing,” on the other hand, is pretty much unforgettable.