Recently, the French decided to adapt the “Yes We Can” Obama campaign motto.

I find it ironic that despite the years of hatred for Bush, their distaste for general American lifestyle, and their seemingly more progressive perception of who could be in high office (no problems with Chirac’s mistress, current Prez marrying a model/musician while in office) the French are , dare I say, trying to immitate the classless Americans?

 ”We shouldn’t be surprised that Obama’s popularity is so high here: It testifies to the aspirations of all the children of France who are experiencing by proxy a recognition that France does not give them,” the manifesto reads. “It also betrays the bad faith of those who welcome the victory of modernity outside our borders, in order to tolerate the status quo here.”

Well, I remember being in a manor in Quimiac France , outside on the lawn in a flower dress, celebrating the day one of my closest friends got marrie.

Could you explain why you voted for that man? We’re all so shocked! He’s already turned down many measures internationally to help the environment!

I swear, I swear I defeneded myself. More importantly, I swore it happened due to corruption and fluke.

I promis you, that man will not get re-elected.

Fast forward 4 years …. FUCK.

I remember my first trip to Toronto for work. A cabbie picked me up with a collegue after a night out at a bar. He was African, and when he learned we were American, he almost wanted to refuse to take us to our destination.

What is it about Bush that made foreigners seem to hate us or feel so puzzled by our decisions? Somehow I felt that despite my actions and my choices, I was somehow lumped in with a segment that felt the enviroment was 2nd par, God only mattered, and spreading “freedom” was the sole purpose of our Nation’s being.

Well now I can call it out. Finally, when I tell them I’m American, there’s someone to be proud of.

That’s right France, I’m coming back for you. Didn’t your president marry a model? Pshhh.

We drove over to Korean town winding up Crenshaw and turning right to get to Olympic, and I figured this experience was going to make me relaxed. I was excited after we valeted the car and were greeted at the reception to frilly smelling products and cases of expensive lotions and shampoos.  The hostess asked us if it was our first time, and since it was, decided to give us a brief tour.

“Here is your bracelet with your keys and your number. Don’t leave it behind, the number is important and I’ll explain why in a moment.”

… we walked past the double doors and get entranced with a humid scene of various women in green robes and white towls. Some topless, some more conservative, all with that look of “oh wow… toxins are so gross. I’m glad I come here and sweat it off unlike the common folk” all over their faces.

“This is your shoe locker, and you open it like this”

“You have separate lockers for shoes?”, I asked.
No humor, no laughter. Just a sad stare.

Past the Divinity of Soles, we migrate past the main hub of the spa, where women are all towel-headed  turbin style, looking like they may have just puffed some opium the way their dazes wander.

“And here is your regular locker. Remember your number, we will call you by your number for your service, not your name.”

And alas, we get to the pools. One cool, one hot, and one magma level Mugwort pool.And a long line of faucets and plastic stools separated them. Each upon on them, one large or saggy old Korean lady, washing everything, including the oldest of petals amongst her treasures. Oh sweet victory, I was at least skinner than most of them.

“Remember, you have to memorize your number. That’s how you get called.”

And this is where I promised Marie I would not make a reference to Auschwitz on this blog, even though it’s SO obvious.

So we bathed in hot, we bathed in cool, we bathed in Mugworts tea that made me feel like my nipples were ripping off. Then finally, came the scrub and massage. The wonders of feeling like a baby newborn, sort of like the pampering you get between diapers, only more raw, more real, and more corrupted.

Skin came off of me like I was carrot getting prepped for a dinner party. God knows I was in a daze of relaxation. And as Marie swears, it was like the sin in our very bodies was getting washed away with the men of our past.

Needless to say, I feel like I’m younger. And if you ask Hong, the old Korean in black panties and a bra who man-handled me for 90 minutes, I’m very beautiful as well.

My favorite new webistes:

www.myxer.com Because I don’t believe in paying for my iPhone to sound like Santogold. I think it should be for free.

www.hulu.com Because I don’t want to download a torrent just to catch up on TV.

News in the World:

How even immigrants don’t want to come here.

The Church finally apologizes to Darwin, for you know … not getting that whole evolution thing.

News in Technology:

Has Blu-ray really won the war ?

Finally, companies are making their sites not suck.  Except for eVite, that site will always suck.

Last weekend I went to Seattle for my step-brother’s wedding.  Bill is over 2 years younger than me. I remember going on trips to Lake Tahoe, back when he was”my mom’s boyfriend’s son” and putting him in headlocks making him chant Leyla’s good, Leyla’s great, ra-ra Leyla. Now I saw him in a 2 piece suit walking down an aisle and saying his vows to his bride.

It seems like fall 2008 will be the Leyla Pacific Northwest Tour. After this trip, I’ll be heading to Portland in October, and Vancouver in November. But this trip has been different. I got to meet the people from my step-brother’s life, those who live on Vashon Island, where he grew up. And I realize so much of me screams Los Angeles girl. Like the way I insisted on wearing platform open toed shoes on wet gravel and grass.

One things for sure, my hair is NOT suited for rain and humidity.

Congratulations to Bill and his beautiful Sarah. May you never get jaded like a 29 year Angelina with attachment issues to her dog.

Here is a recent conversation I had with a friend/client of mine discussion my new age of discovery.

That about sums it up , really.

PICS from the Viceroy…

Between my one week of SIGGRAPH insanity, and later having a visitor for over a week stay at my place, I think Oliver only saw one version of me - the exhausted one.

And now my life is somewhat back to normal I suppose. But that’s not to say that things won’t get hectic again.

And now, a very short pictoral retrospect of my last month.

SIGGRAPH 2008 - Los Angeles

Houdini Dinner

Drinking on the job (well, at night of course)

Anne-Laure visiting from Paris

 COLUMBUS, Ohio (AP) — An inmate scheduled for execution in October says he’s so fat that Ohio executioners would have trouble finding his veins and he might not be properly anesthetized.

In other news, I finally got back my two rolls of 120 mm film. A few things about buying a Holga I would like to pass on to those wishing to take up this hobbey.

• There are like 4 places in all of LA that still develop traditional film, only one exists in Santa Monica. That would be Boulevard Photo on 12th and Wilshire.
• Of the 24 pictures I took, roughly 6 of them were decent enough. Those six pictures cost me $36 to develop. One set.
• Learn how to manually wind the film, apparently this is key to not exposing your stuff.

Otherwise, enjoy…

I don’t hate McCain, really I don’t. But this is a great clip of the DS ripping on him.

Sometimes, the future is a small price to pay for some goodness today.

Thanks Frankie, wise words. I might listen to them.