Pump it

As long as everyone agrees to use this knowledge only for good and not evil, I will tell you how to break into a car silently and quickly. Say there is the cutest chi-poo trapped in a Lexus at the Beverley Center. He's hot, you need to get him out and fast. Insert the cuff of a blood pressure rig along the top edge of the door near the corner farthest from the hinges. Pump madly. The door should flex just enough for you to reach in and unlock the door. You're a hero!

Day 2 — Box wine recap

I woke up with a headache, which is odd. Ok, I had to get underwear at Target, so I figured, 'How bad can their box wine be?' Only three liters to go and I can go back to Charles Shaw.

But aside from the headache, today was a good day. I only had to scoop up two condoms. One was brand spanking new, the other, not so much. And I was less bored than riding in the truck with Willie. It seems moving around, walking, and having people in their cars point and stare can really make the day go faster. Here are a couple of photos.

Aren't they scary? This was my crew today. They are smiling because either, the day is over, or I just bought some hand sanitizer and passed it around. There was one alcoholic in another crew who refused to use it. I feel sorry for that guy.

I have a prison crush on the one in the middle. Great sense of humor, smart, and broom skills second to none.

Apparently this van can, and does, move around the city. Does anyone know the story behind it? If I had to guess, I would say that the owner is crazy. Just a gut feeling.

Day 2 — Lunch

Found a twenty in a pile of rubbish on a side street, mixed in with some underwear and the usual cigarette butts. Bought lunch for my crew at El Pollo Loco. I won't get shivved today, no sir.

Day 2 — Break

False alarm, I thought we were heading out onto the highway, but the standard issue yellow shirts were still in the dryer. I guess they needed a way of keeping track of us in the meantime. It's going to be more street sweeping today. Right now we are at McDonalds off Santa Monica Boulevard, having our morning break. We have yet to do any work. I met a guy who is an actor, and his day job is stealing cars. He always gets this far-away-look in his eyes when something shiny passes. I'm resisting the urge to ask him how he does it.

Day 2 — Morning

We are all in the yard waiting for the crew assignments. I'm not supposed to have a cellphone, let alone live-blogging with an iPhone. Damn my thumbs are imprecise under pressure. The bad news is we were all assigned orange vests. This does not bode well.

Day 1 - Recap (from home after 2 glasses of box wine)

It took about two and a half hours to get processed before the actual beautification of Hollywood could begin. Standing in various lines to get my finger electronically scanned, t-shirt issued, rules agreed to, etc. I had to practice a bit of pranayama to stave off an anxiety attack. Though, I did meet a nice man in line who told me never to talk about 'what you are in for.' As in, what you did to 'catch a case.' He claimed that when he was incarcerated, they planted a guard in his cell to listen in on the boasts of his cellmates. Who were then, horribly, convicted of even more crimes!

So now my pat answer to the question, "Mister, why are you doing community service?" Is "I was in a fight with a guy, and I had to stab him in the neck." Not true of course, but it ends the chit-chat.

We are broken into several 'crews.' I get assigned to my 'trustee' Willie. Ok, I'm embellishing, but I love prison jargon. Picture Granny from the Beverley Hillbillies, except black and male. He is about seventy-five, thin, and smokes a couple of Winstons during the day. Nice guy, but will pull a grumpy when necessary to keep the 'virgins' in line.

So out we go into Tinseltown!

But first another glass of box-wine...

I think we actually got started working at about nine-thirty. We all piled into a flatbed Ford with brooms and those long-handled dustpan things and headed to the eastern reaches of Hollywood. I am talking east of Little Armenia. Everyone piled out at a Seven Eleven, grabbed their brooms and started sweeping with flair. I was tapped on the arm by Willie. He had plans for me, which meant I got to ride on the truck the entire day hoisting the bags of trash into the back, listening to old school R&B , and second-hand-smoking Winstons. Not bad actually. Got a bit of a deltoid workout, I think.

Now, I must watch episode three of John Adams.

Day 1

Shit.

It's six forty five in the morning and I am waiting outside the offices of The Hollywood Beautification Team and there is no sign of Lindsey or Paris.

The kind folks at HBT have rescued me from having to spend 20 days in the County Jail for what I'll refer to as The Incident. There is a group of about fifty of us waiting in the mild ginger scented air, only a hundred feet from the star of Orson Welles on the Walk of Fame. Thats where the romance ends, of course. The HBT offices are really more like a super-sized janitor's closet full of paint, gardening implements, and handwritten signs threatening "You Will Not get your hours and you will be sent home if you are caught smoking (except on breaks)." It's all about the hours...I have 160 to go. Seems daunting at this point.

The group is actually a little more mixed than what you would find on an LA city bus. There are some older white guys like me. What did they do? Oh wait, they are each with a much younger boy or girl. Aha, the minors must have to bring a parent. Looks like about half the group is under eighteen. And I thought a was embarrassed when my mom picked me up after school.

Ok, we are going in...