When I saw an advertisement for these shoes at the Pentagon City Mall, I wanted to vomit all over the freshly mopped floor:

These Croc rip-offs are the most hideous shoes I have ever seen in my life. What's even more insulting is that they have appropriated the term "Cali" for these shoes (I assume they are referring to California and not Cali, Colombia) when, in reality, no self-respecting Californian would be caught dead in them. They should rename these shoes "Nebraska gear" or "Delaware gear" or whatev.

Real Cali gear

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If this is approved by the regulators, it's a pretty sweet deal for both the oil company and the environmentalists in Santa Barbara. PXP will be allowed to drill and profit from record oil prices, while prime real estate owned by the company will be spared development and donated to a land conservancy:

A Houston oil company has agreed to shut down its offshore oil production off Santa Barbara County decades early in exchange for approval this year to drill into untapped undersea reserves and cash in on the nation's record oil prices.

To sweeten the deal, Plains Exploration & Production Co. -- known as PXP -- also has agreed to donate about 200 acres of oceanview property along the sparsely populated Gaviota coast and an additional 3,700 acres in Santa Barbara's premier wine-growing region for public parkland. It would withdraw a proposed housing development on that land and pay millions to fund projects that offset carbon dioxide emissions, such as low-emission public buses.

[...]

Steve Rusch, a PXP vice president, said the company was willing to make concessions because it wanted to do more than simply neutralize offshore oil's traditional opponents -- it wanted to enlist their support. Since the 1980s, most offshore oil development in California has been met with fierce opposition, including protracted litigation, congressional moratoriums and bureaucratic delays.

So beginning later this month, Krop and her clients will support PXP in its petition to use "slant drilling" from one of its four offshore platforms to tap into an undersea oil field, the Tranquillon Ridge, that could yield as much as 200 million barrels of oil and 50 billion cubic feet of natural gas.

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With oil prices now at $100+ per barrel, companies are revisiting older wells that were shut down when it was economically unfeasible to produce oil from them. Many of these wells are located in southern California:

Independent producers and major conglomerates alike are reinvesting millions in these mature wells, using expensive new technology and drilling techniques to eke every last drop out of fields long past their prime ---- and often in the middle of suburbia.

In this instance, Terra Exploration & Production Co. believes that up to 2 billion barrels of oil remain hidden beneath Signal Hill, once nicknamed "Porcupine Hill" for its crown of oil derricks before developers planted gated communities and strip malls.

"A lot of these wells have been sitting idle for many years," said Mick Conner, who hopes to increase daily production on his half-dozen wells. "If we can take a 10-barrel well and make it a 20-barrel well, it becomes very profitable for us."

In California, some of the least profitable and old wells ---- so-called "stripper" wells ---- are clustered in a dense urban environment, tucked between malls, gas stations and homes. They are the legacy of a turn-of-the-century oil boom that quickly faded with the discovery of oil in Texas and the depletion of the easiest reserves.

But the move to boost production on these aging oil fields has also inspired bitter protests from some homeowners, some of whom live just a few dozen feet from active wells. Many do not own the mineral rights under their land or moved in long after the original well was built.

If I had a lot of free time on my hands, and still lived back in California, I would probably write a book on California's oil history. It's an interesting topic, but I can't imagine it would be much of a bestseller. At least my parents would buy a few copies.

Posted by Lindsay at 11:33 PM | Permalink | Comments? (2) | TrackBacks (0) |  Subscribe in a reader |

Via the LATimes:

Local water authorities have begun closing some of the state's prime fishing lakes in an effort to keep an infestation of tiny quagga mussels from fouling drinking water supplies for nearly 375,000 residents and threatening fish populations.

And where did these invasive species come from? The Soviet Union, in the 1980s:

Native to Russia and Ukraine, the mussel migrated to the Great Lakes region in the 1980s, probably in the ballast of ocean freighters. They hitchhike on boats and trailers, and quickly form new colonies in bodies of water. They are virtually impossible to eradicate, potentially adding hundreds of millions of dollars in maintenance costs to pumps, pipes and other infrastructure across the state, water district officials say.

I am convinced this is not an accident, but rather a long dormant communist plot finally coming to fruition.

First, the mussels...

...and then the ground forces.

Posted by Lindsay at 11:43 PM | Permalink | Comments? (0) | TrackBacks (0) |  Subscribe in a reader |

In order to relieve pressure on existing SoCal outlets, which are increasingly crowded at all hours of the day:

Their beef isn't with the burger.

Merchants near some Southern California In-N-Out Burger restaurants say their gripe is with growing traffic jams at drive-through lanes that are keeping customers from getting in and out of their stores.

Long lines of idling cars whose occupants are waiting for made-to-order double-doubles, fries and chocolate shakes sometimes spill into streets and block driveways and alleys, according to owners of adjacent businesses.

The traffic crunch has sent executives of the Irvine-based chain on a crash program to open new outlets to relieve pressure on existing In-N-Outs.

If only they could expand to the (l)east coast and show these (l)east coasters what a real burger tastes like, then I'd be in heaven (well, not quite, but it would make this swamp a bit more bearable).

Posted by Lindsay at 11:08 PM | Permalink | Comments? (2) | TrackBacks (0) |  Subscribe in a reader |

From the LATimes:

Like many of the Californians he represents, Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger now spends more than three hours commuting because he lives so far from the office.

But his ride is a private jet.

After flirting briefly with buying a Sacramento abode for his family, then living alone for a while in a 2,000-square-foot hotel penthouse across from the Capitol, the governor has decided to stay nearly every night at his Brentwood mansion.

The commute costs hundreds of thousands of dollars a year, which aides say the governor pays for himself. Some environmentalists say the trips expand his carbon footprint enough to undermine his image as a crusader against global warming, despite the pollution credits he buys to offset the damage.

Solution? Move the state capital to SoCal. Who wants to visit Sacramento anyways?

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Depending on my GMAT score, this might be where I end up getting my MBA. And ya know, maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.

The In-N-Out University, according to the company's website, is "where new managers are trained and the In-N-Out formula for success is consistently reinforced."

I snapped this photo while on a traditional In-N-Out run after being picked up from Ontario airport. The In-N-Out University is located at 13850 Francisquito Ave. in Baldwin Park, the city where In-N-Out Burger was born.

Also, if you stop at the Baldwin Park location, there is a company store located in the same building as the "university." Here, you can buy all the In-N-Out merchandise that your heart desires, including t-shirts, Fossil watches, beach towels, and Christmas ornaments. I'm not even going to tell you how much stuff I bought there.

Oh, and after checking the "new items" section on the website, you can now buy flip-flops:

Dudes, as a reminder, my birthday is coming up in a few months.

Posted by Lindsay at 10:28 PM | Permalink | Comments? (3) | TrackBacks (0) |  Subscribe in a reader |

Stealing a page from Ann's new blog, I'm going to start posting random photos that I've taken over the years and write a short explanation about them. The photo might be of something historical or just plain ridiculous, but will usually be related to somewhere that I've traveled.

I took this photo a few months ago while I was in Los Angeles. Pink's Hot Dog stand, located on N. La Brea Boulevard in Hollywood, claims to be the "Home of the World's Best Chili Dog". Not having taste tested every single chili dog in the world, I cannot vouch for the authenticity of this claim, but I will say that Pink's does make a damn good hot dog. Their menu is pretty eclectic, featuring hot dogs topped with everything from guacamole to BBQ sauce and onion rings. Ryan and I first visited Pink's back in 2005, when we gorged ourselves on hot dogs after visiting a Soviet submarine in Long Beach. During my most recent trip, I opted for the "Today Show Dog" - two hot dogs in one bun topped with mustard, onions, chili, cheese, and guacamole (and keep in mind that for lunch I had a double double and fries from In-N-Out. Yes, I am well aware that a visit to the cardiologist is in my future).

If you find yourself in Los Angeles and craving a hot dog, I highly recommend you stop by Pink's. The line tends to get long, but it's worth the wait.

Posted by Lindsay at 10:53 PM | Permalink | Comments? (3) | TrackBacks (0) |  Subscribe in a reader |

Lunch, originally uploaded by lfincher.

Would you have expected anything less?

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Got a 6am flight out of Dulles tomorrow, which should put me into Palm Springs around 10:30 am, just in time for a double double from In-N-Out.

Guess I should start packing. Be back in DC Monday night.

Oh, you don't get President's Day off? That sucks.

Posted by Lindsay at 08:38 PM | Permalink | Comments? (0) | TrackBacks (0) |  Subscribe in a reader |

'Cause it was saved:

The California Coastal Commission handed environmentalists a major victory and rejected the pleas of motorists Wednesday, voting down plans to build a six-lane toll road through San Onofre State Beach, a popular preserve in north San Diego County known for its scenery and famous surf spots.

Before a boisterous crowd of more than 3,500 people, commissioners decided 8 to 2 that the proposed Foothill South project violates the California Coastal Act, which is designed to regulate development along the state's 1,100-mile shoreline. They reached the conclusion following hours of sometimes heated public testimony that pitted protecting the environment against the need to relieve traffic congestion in south Orange County.

[...]

The vote, which was greeted by an enormous cheer, followed 12 hours of public testimony from the crowd, of whom 2,500 made formal requests to speak, the largest number for a hearing in the commission's more than 30 years of operation.

Some arrived by bus, brought by surf-industry companies opposed to the project. Others came as members of construction unions that support it. Some in the crowd carried surfboards as a symbol of protest. Others dressed as if attending a long-awaited football game.

My favorite sign: "They're paid to be here" (latimes.com)

Admittedly, I was a bit puzzled by this paragraph in a NYTimes article about the proposed toll road:

Some supporters of the road say it would open up San Onofre State Beach, already the state’s fifth-most-visited state park, to people from inland cities. Right now, they say, the beach is dominated by a clique of territorial surfers.

WTF? San Onofre is the most chill place I've surfed. "A clique of territorial surfers" makes it sound like you'll get hounded out of the water for being an inlander. It's a STATE PARK. Everyone's gotta wait in the same line and pay the same fee to get in. If you want a toll road, move to New Jersey.

Posted by Lindsay at 06:39 PM | Permalink | Comments? (0) | TrackBacks (0) |  Subscribe in a reader |

New California ad:

Rob Lowe in California t-shirt = hot. I always wondered what he was doing after The West Wing ended.

Related: U.S. Cities Put on the Charm for Foreign Tourists

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I was in California for the Thanksgiving holiday but am now back in hell, more commonly known as Washington, D.C., our lovely nation's capital.

This is only the third time in the past seven years that I've actually spent Thanksgiving with my family, so it was a welcome change. In the past, it's been too short a period of time to fly all the way out there for the holiday, as well as incredibly pricey, so I always opted to stay in DC (or London). This year, though, I decided to take the extra day off (Wednesday) as well as fly into the less desirable Ontario airport so that I could make it work.

Of course, with my luck, I was struck with an incredibly nasty bout of food poisoning on Monday thanks to a chicken salad sandwich from Corner Bakery. On the food poisoning scale, it was just a step above the Paris incident of '05, in which the French attempted to kill me with Brie.

I woke up on Tuesday morning fully intending to go to work for most of the day (flight wasn't leaving until late afternoon) but realized that I couldn't stand up for more than two minutes without becoming incredibly nauseous, so decided I should stay home. I am not quite sure how I managed to drag myself to the airport, but looking back I really should have taken a taxi instead of the metro. After checking in, I had to sit down and rest for a few minutes before heading to the security checkpoint, which was full of newbs who were oblivious to the fact that you can't walk through a metal detector with your cell phone, iPod, and assorted bling without setting the damn thing off.

I caught my connecting flight in Houston (where, I kid you not, a girl asked "Is there, like, a time difference between here and California?" WTF!) and arrived in Ontario before midnight. I finally got into Palm Desert a little after 1am. Unfortunately, I had to skip the obligatory double double from In-N-Out due to being damn sick.

I thought I would be over this food poisoning by Wednesday morning, but woke up in even worse shape. I basically spent the majority of the day curled up in bed, dressed in a fluffy oversized Ritz Carlton - Rancho Mirage robe (legally acquired!), downing liters of Gatorade and wishing someone would just put me out of my misery. Katerina and I were supposed to go hiking in Ladder Canyon, but for obvious reasons had to cancel. As you can see, our training regimen for Mount K is going quite well.

Thanksgiving rolled around, and I was feeling a little better, but still not well enough to eat anything substantial. I had a few bites of mashed potatoes and stuffing, but that was about it. I am quite possibly the only American who lost weight over the Thanksgiving holiday.

By Friday morning, though, I was back to normal. My face had regained its color, and I no longer looked like a starved zombie. The rest of my time in PD seemed to be a non-stop schedule of engagements. I had people to see, double doubles to eat, Mexican food to enjoy - the usual Palm Desert activities.

This morning, I left the house at 3 to catch my 6am flight out of Ontario. While our plane was pulling away from the gate, the girl sitting directly across from me screamed "Oh my God! Did you see that?!?!" Well this is great, I thought, I'm sitting next to an insane person. But then a flight attendant said that she had seen something as well, and they both concurred that a large mouse had scurried across the aisle. So our plane pulled back into the gate, an operations crew boarded, and after several minutes of deliberation, a decision was made that we would proceed to Houston with the mouse on board. The captain announced that anyone who did not wish to fly with the mouse could get off the plane and take a later flight. No one took him up on his offer.

And now here I am, back in DC. Food poisoning aside, I loved being able to spend Thanksgiving with my family. Hopefully next year I will be able to do the same without having to fly 3,000 miles. I'll steer clear of the chicken salad as well.

Posted by Lindsay at 11:50 PM | Permalink | Comments? (0) | TrackBacks (0) |  Subscribe in a reader |

Bay Area surfers were so frustrated with the government's response following the Cosco Busan spill that they took it upon themselves to organize volunteers and clean up their favorite breaks:

Aghast at what he saw as the government-run cleanup's slow pace, Rosas teamed up with two Silicon Valley friends, Byron Cleary and Kathleen Egan. All three are surfers. All three loathe red tape.

Their beach was getting slimed. Oil-smeared seabirds were in a death dance. The friends wanted action.

Risking arrest, they took time away from work to hit the sand -- and get others out there with them.

In a matter of days they had launched a remarkably successful campaign, harnessing both the high-tech chutzpah and the environmental passion of the Bay Area.

Tapping into far-flung communities of techies and surfers, they marshaled volunteers over the Web. They set up a blog. They offered cleanup tips that others posted on Craigslist. They persuaded local businesses to pitch in by providing paper towels, synthetic gloves, even bagels.

As to be expected, some surfers did show up to the contaminated beaches wearing flip flops.

Several thousand miles away, the cleanup continues after an oil tanker loaded with 1.3 million gallons of fuel oil sank in the Black Sea.

It's highly doubtful that this latest incident will lead to any improvement in Russia's enforcement of its environmental standards (or lack thereof). Remember, only non-Russian companies have to abide by those regulations.

Posted by Lindsay at 10:23 PM | Permalink | Comments? (0) | TrackBacks (0) |  Subscribe in a reader |

This is not an article from The Onion...this really happened:

The Federal Emergency Management Agency staged a fake news conference this week, with agency staff officials, pretending to be reporters, peppering one of their own bosses with decidedly friendly questions about the response to the California fires, the Department of Homeland Security acknowledged Friday.

[...]

The questions from the staff were posed after FEMA gave reporters only 15 minutes notice for a news conference on Tuesday, meaning that other than television camera crews, no reporters showed up before questioning began. A toll-free telephone line was provided so reporters could listen in, but it was not set up to allow questions.

As a result, staff members asked Mr. Johnson a series of friendly questions like, “Are you happy with FEMA’s response so far?” and, “What lessons learned from Katrina have been applied?”

Mr. Johnson gave no indication that the questions came from his own staff.

“I’m very happy with FEMA’s response so far,” Mr. Johnson said in response to one question, according to a transcript.

I love it. Very...Soviet-esque.

Posted by Lindsay at 11:27 AM | Permalink | Comments? (0) | TrackBacks (0) |  Subscribe in a reader |

Oh yeah, we all talk like this.

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Oh, California in the summer...friends, family, cheap Mexican food, shrimp tacos from Rockin' Baja, margaritas, guacamole and Coronas on the patio, sun...

A few photos from my short trip to California last week:

Oceanside. Used to spend the entire summer here when I was a kid.

Hello, old friend. It's been awhile

Enjoying a double double on the beach...can it be any more perfect? (El Capitan, this one's for you)

Friar Tuck, "Beat LA!" (and beat LA they did)

The beach in the outfield, for the ankle biters

“Diego Dog” (bratwurst in a Kaiser roll-like bun topped with cabbage, pico de gallo, and mustard)

You take your car to work. I'll take my board

Tandem surfers and a crowded lineup

A lot like last year, more regrets that I moved back to DC. I think there will be a change of location in '08.

“I hope you want the same thing I want, freedom to live and ride nature’s waves without the oppressive hang-up of the mad, insane complex that runs the world and this sick, sick war. These are incredible times. Thank God for a few free waves.” - Miki Dora, 1960s. Apropos.

Posted by Lindsay at 10:23 PM | Permalink | Comments? (3) | TrackBacks (0) |  Subscribe in a reader |

I'm sitting at George Bush Intercontinental whatever airport waiting for my connecting flight to the Great State of California, where I'll be spending a few days at the beach.

I'm really just thrilled to get the hell out of DC. I returned home from work yesterday to discover that the power on my block was out AGAIN (second time this month. WTF?). I went for a run and figured that by the time I got back PEPCO would have it all sorted out. Yeah, right. It didn't come back on until 3am, so I packed and showered by flashlight. I think I really need to invest in some camping lanterns and headlamps for when this happens next time (and trust me, it will). I did miss the A/C as well, not because it was very hot inside, but rather the noise tends to filter out the wannabe gangstas yelling and fighting directly outside our house at 2am. Ohhh, I can't wait to leave this city forever.

Gonna find the breakfast burrito place now. Texans make 'em quite well.

Posted by Lindsay at 10:34 AM | Permalink | Comments? (3) | TrackBacks (0) |  Subscribe in a reader |

Three years ago my grandmother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Since I was living in either London or DC, I wasn't able to see her much over the past few years. I always stopped by her house during my short visits to California, but each visit grew more painful. She had always been a very active woman, simultaneously involved in the community and maintaining a full social calendar, but she spent much of these past three years lying in bed.

I called her a few weeks ago. We talked about the weather, family, work, and my recent trip to Ukraine and Poland. She asked if I liked it out here in Washington. I told her no, not really, and that I was planning to move back to California next year.

She passed away on Thursday, August 9th. I was prepared to write a long post, but it's still too hard. Perhaps another day. I did find this past article from the Rancho Mirage Chamber of Commerce newsletter, however. It's how she would want to be remembered, anyways.

I flew back to California for a few days to attend the funeral. Afterwards, over 60 of our closest friends and family members gathered at Las Casuelas Nuevas, the site of numerous past family celebrations, for huge plates of Mexican food and free-flowing margaritas. She would have loved it.

Posted by Lindsay at 11:58 PM | Permalink | Comments? (2) | TrackBacks (0) |  Subscribe in a reader |