The New & Improved Griffith Observatory.

It's been since before the renovation that I've gone to visit the Griffith Observatory. I remember not being very impressed with it. It was small. Not much to see except the planetarium show, which was its showpiece. That and the awesome view of downtown, the Wilshire corridor, and if the air is clear, Palos Verdes (among other sites).

But the renovation did the Observatory good. It's not a real observatory in the sense that astronomers do serious work there--it sits above the bright skies of L.A., after all. But it was built for the public and not astronomers, anyway.

It's really more of a museum of astronomy, especially now that they have the expanded basement under the front lawn.

Alba and I reserved a visit for yesterday and spent most of the day there taking in the new exhibits and the still-spectacular view (even if there was a bit of the typical mid-summer haze hanging in the air).

I love the new exhibits.

The Big Picture is the world's largest photographic image of the night sky, made up of 105 4' X 8' panels stretched three high (24' feet high) by 35 long (140' long). (It's HUGE!) And in it are hundreds, possibly thousands of far off galaxies that lie in a stretch of sky in the constellation Virgo that you could cover up with your index finger held at arm's length.

How's that for a visual demonstration of the expansiveness of the universe! Awe inspiring, it is.

Then there are the gigantic scale models of the solar system with a Saturn that dominates the ceiling area with its massive ring system, and a Pluto (no longer considered a planet), which is nothing but a small brass ball.

Then there are the gigantic, rotating full-relief globes of the Earth and Moon showing all the mountain ranges, deep-see trenches, moon craters, etc.

Then there are the meteorite exhibits, live images of the sun, time-lapse videos of solar activity, a visual model of the periodic table complete with actual samples of each element, even uranium. (But not many of the really heavy or man-made elements.) And other exhibits to keep you entertained for a few hours.

There's even a cafe and gift shop now.

I had read about a hike from the Observatory down to Fern Dell Park in a guide book to L.A. area hikes. So around 4:00 pm, Alba and I hiked down to Fern Dell Park, a shady park that follows a creek with charming little wooden bridges that cross it every so often. Then we hiked back up to the Observatory.

I think what I learn more than anything else that day was that reading about a 500-foot elevation gain is a hell of a lot different than actually hiking a 500-foot elevation gain! (Talk about my buns burning!)

After the hike, Alba and I took the shuttle back to the parking area and had dinner in a nice shady area of Griffith Park.

I love Griffith Park. It's HUGE! It's one of the largest municipal parks in the world. (The "Hollywood" sign sits below just one of the several peaks in the park.) And it's still quite nice, even after the fires. Nothing really important was lost in the fires. Just a few hiking trails, bench areas, and maybe the bird sanctuary, but don't quote me on it.

That still leaves the Zoo, the Gene Autry Museum, the Observatory, Greek Theater, Hollywood Sign, Equestrian Center, Golf Course, Merry-Go-Round, Visitor Center, Travel Town, several picnic areas, many miles of trails, baseball diamond, basketball and tennis courts, pool, etc. In other words, plenty to keep you busy.

Camping On Mt. Pinos

Well, I spent my Fourth of July camping in the Los Padres National Forest about two hours north of L.A. There is a campground near the summit of Mt. Pinos (elevation 8831 ft.) at elevation 8300 called Chula Vista, and it lies right on the border between Ventura and Kern Counties.

Chula Vista has a large parking lot, which marks the very end of Mt. Pinos Rd., and many amateur astronomers congregate there all year round (unless the road is closed due to snow.) The parking lot and adjacent meadow allow a break in the Pines which affords a spectacular view of most of the night sky.

But during the summer, the skies never get really dark. The edge of the horizon looks like it's constantly dusk. But if you look carefully, you could still make out a fuzzy patch where the Milky Way should be. It's a great spot for stargazing, and I took full advantage of it, searching out all the visible constellations and planets. Venus, Saturn, and Jupiter are all visible in the early evening right now. Venus shines bright in the west, with Saturn close by. Jupiter is obvious in the East.

But there weren't any astronomers there on the Fourth of July, though. In fact, it was deserted. The campground has 12 camp sites, and Alba and I were the only ones there. During the day, there were the occasional hikers, but come nightfall, we might as well have been in the Old West, except for the sound of an occasional commercial airplane far overhead.

The campsite was over 1000 feet from the edge of the parking lot, which made it a lot of work packing everything to and from the campsite. But it was worth it. You couldn't even see the parking lot from our camp.

The weather was mild, but extremely dry. The ground was nothing but dust, which crusted up our mucous membranes, and got in our eyes when our foreheads began to sweat.

Here were the amenities: picnic table, fire ring, and a bathroom which was just a hole in the ground. That's it. No running water whatsoever.

It's an interesting experience to live without running water. Try going to the bathroom, then realizing that you can't wash your hands. Or eat a peach, then have no way to wash off the stickiness. Or a layer of dust all over your body and especially your feet and between your toes, with no way to wash yourself. By the next day, Alba and I were nasty, sweaty, and stinking to high heaven.

But it was a hell of a lot of fun, and I can't wait to go again!

The best part was at night, when no one else was around. It's strange how a wooded landscape, which during the day is so beautiful and tranquil, can appear sinister and spooky at night. Alba was scared walking down the dark moonless path from the parking lot back to the campground after our stargazing session.

There was this one spot where the trail dipped down a bit, and cut through a rotting, fallen log. A section of it was cut out to allow for the path, and on one end of this huge log was a jumble of branches forming a dark, twisting shadow looming over the trail. At the same time, the temperature had dropped suddenly by at least 15 degrees.

Yep...pretty spooky.

And the woods were dead quiet all night. Not a sound, but the occasional breeze through the trees and the far off sound of commercial planes soaring overhead just to the south.

I've been camping enough to know that the forest is supposed to make noise at night. Crickets, insects, birds, animals, etc. In the Midwest, the woods can be downright LOUD. But these woods were dead silent. Not a sound until the early dawn when the birds start their song.

Just before dusk on the evening of the Fourth, I lit a fire, which started with surprising ease, and roasted some marshmellows, and assembled the obligatory s'mores. (Camping isn't really camping without a fire, roasted marshmellows, and s'mores!)

All in all, despite some painful and uncomfortable moments and fitful sleep, it was a great trip. I'm hooked on camping and hiking now, and like I said: I can't wait to go again!

Happy Independence Day!

Well, it's been a few days, so let me bring my readers up to date: not much happening here.

My laptop finally bit the dust, and seeing that it was my only home computer, that means I've got to use my work computer to make posts. But at the same time, I've been swamped at work because things are finally reaching the home stretch before implementation. (I'll be more specific about this once things get rolling.)

On another front, I've been reading tons. I breezed through the six Harry Potter books in about three weeks, and I'm dying to have that Book Seven in my hands RIGHT NOW!!

It's interesting how a writer can pull you into a fantasy world, and leave you begging for more, dying to find out what happens to characters who only exist in fantasy.

Fascinating.

I've decided I want to do that.

So I piled up some paperbacks I'll be working through over the course of the summer: some Stephen King, some Tom Clancy, some Dean Koontz, some Orson Scott Card (who many of you may not have heard of, but who has written tons of interesting and well-written sci-fi books).

But I'm reading for more than just pleasure--I want to analyze what these writers do to capture the reader's attention and keep them hooked throughout an entire 600-700 page book. I love a good a story. And I think I could tell a good one, myself.

On yet another front, Alba and I are going camping over the fourth. It's been AGES since I've been camping. In fact, I bought a tent 'way back in 2000 and have never used it. So I figured it's time to break that baby out and put it through its paces.

Of course, one overnight stay up on a high and dry Mt. Pinos in the Los Padres National Forest probably won't be putting it through its paces, but it will be fun, anyway. There are hiking trails, camping spots....well, that's about it. But there will be trails and camping spots, and I suppose that's all you need except for a john, and fortunately there is one of those close by, as well.

But what I'm most looking forward to, and I'm hoping dearly to find, are the amateur astronomers who like to congregate at the Chula Vista parking lot close to where we'll be camping. If there are star nerds with their humongous telescopes out, you can bet I'll be making friends with some of them in the hope of getting a peak through their telescope!

(It just occurred to me that some of you may consider these humongous telescopes to be phallic symbols--which I suppose they are--and may find my wish to gawk at them quite amusing. Particularly since in the astronomy world, bigger is definitely better, and certainly gets the owner a lot of attention. But I assure you that phallis is not on my mind...just a desire to see some cool astronomical--NOT asstronomical nor gastronomical--phenomenon.)

I'll tell you about my trip when I get back. So, until then...

The Stan

The Opening...

Sorry for my delay, folks. My computer finally bit the dust, so I've got to steal a few minutes from work in order to post.

But to continue...

As I was saying, Shelley bungalow nights are always full of fun and merryment. She was living in her Aunt's back yard in Torrance before she married Matt. And as a bit of trivia, the photo you see at the top right (with me wearing my bug-eye glasses) was taken at her Aunt's house in Shelley's "front yard" on New Year's Eve one year.

On the night in question, Shelley had assembled the usual suspects: Matt & Shelley, of course; Michelle & Mateo, who were "just friends" at the time; Geoff & Emily, who hadn't been married long; Matt & Raven, his mail-order wife from the Phillipines...and me and Alba.

(By the way, you ever notice how you always put the name of the person you've known longest first? For instance, I knew Michelle long before I met Mateo, so naturally it's "Michelle & Mateo," and not the other way around. But I only met Raven after she came back from her and Matt's Phillipino "shotgun wedding" with Matt wearing a scottish kilt with the photos to prove it (even though he's not Scottish), so it's "Matt & Raven." Do you do the same thing?)

I don't exactly remember how Shelly got away with insisting that everyone be present for "the opening," but somehow it happened. We're all sitting in our pow-wow circle in Shelley's tiny, hot-as-hell living room when it's finally time to open my present from Ms. [grotesquely fat woman].

Naturally, I'm curious to know what Ms. [grotesquely fat woman] would get me for my birthday and how the hell she knew it was, in fact, my birthday. But I'm also not as gullible as you might think, and I knew Shelley must have been up to something. But who am I to stop the fun?

So the gift is presented amid the hushed crowd, as everyone looks on expectantly. Excitedly, I tear off the wrapping, and open the box inside it...and pull out...wait for it...and big, black dildo dubbed the "Jr. Dong," with a note in lovely, flowery writing that says:

Happy Birthday, Aaron.

I hope you get as much enjoyment from this as I did!

-Ms. [grotesquely fat woman]

Obviously, I must show the crowd my lovely new gift, so out comes the wobbly "Jr. Dong" for all to see--including the incredibly scandalized Raven, who was a bit more conservative than we realized, I think.

So everyone's howling except for the scandalized Raven, when Alba pulls out Mr. Jr. Dong and starts waving it around herself, and making favorable comparisons between its 7" length and my own personal dong, which I don't discourage.

So anyway, it was all a riot. Even Raven finally relaxed, and after about a million "Oh, my God's" and had to admit is was pretty damn funny.

So after that, the Jr. Dong started making the rounds as it became tradition to pass it on to someone else at the next birthday. I happen to remember another scene in a nice restaurant, when out came the Jr. Dong at Heather's birthday. (I think it was Heather's birthday, but don't quote me on it.)

But with time, the Jr. Dong has passed into legend, and no one is sure what its fate was. Maybe it's still out there...waiting for the day it will rise again.

The Stan

It's My Birthday!

It's my birthday today. And Alba has been saying "Happy Birthday" to me for a week, "just in case she forgets." In fact, she was in such a hurry, that we celebrated on Sunday with some Chinese takeout from the Emerald Garden. (Alba has to work late all this week, so Sunday it was.)

Anyway, every year my parents usually get me an Amazon gift certificate, which is definitely the best present anyone could ever give me. I probably tithe my income to Amazon.com.

But the most memorable gift I ever received was from none other than Matt and Shelley...although they led me to believe it was from Ms. [grotesquely fat woman]...

One day, I'm hanging out with Matt and Shelley, when Shelley informs me, "Hey, The Stan, I have something for you from Ms. [grotesquely fat woman]!"

"Ms. [grotesquely fat woman]?" I ask.

"Yeah, she tried to catch you after church the other day, but you had already left. So she wanted me to give it to you."

"What is it?"

"I don't know," said Shelley, "It's a present."

"A present?"

"Yeah, it's your birthday this week, right?"

"Yeah...but how would Ms. [grotesquely fat woman] know?"

"I don't know, but she must have known because she gave me a present to give you."

"Have you been spending a lot of time with Ms. [grotesqely fat woman], Stan?" Matt asks.

"No!" I quickly deny. "Well...I guess I talk to her every now and then...It's hard to avoid her." Matt and Shelley chuckle. "But I wouldn't say I spend a lot of time with her."

"Well, you must have made quite an impression," Shelley says as Matt tries to conceal a smile, "because she got a present for you."

"Okaaay?" I say somewhat skeptically.

"But I forgot to bring it," Shelley says, slumping her shoulders and acting disappointed. Then, she brightens and says, "But we're having a little get together at my bungalo next weekend, why don't you come?"

Well, I can't refuse an invitation like that...Shelley bungalow nights are always full of fun and merryment!

Tomorrow...the rest of the story.

The Stan

What's Really On My Mind

I changed my mind about blogging about farts again today. So if you were really looking forward to me expounding on SBDs (silent but deadlies), then I'm sorry to disappoint you.

I'd rather my blog not descend into the realms of toilet humor (any more than it already has)...and I certainly don't walk around thinking about farts all day, the way I do about sex.

I mean seriously.

They say guys think about sex about every six seconds or so...and I'm beginning to think that's probably true. I can be deep in thought about the most serious issue...when here comes this random thought about...

...nice supple breasts...

...a pair of shapely legs...

...a lovely round ass...

or...

...

What is it about sex, anyway?

In fact, here I am, right at this very moment, writing up my blog, thinking about sex...

Give me a second, here...

...

...

Okay, I'm back...oh wait, hold on...

...

...

Now...what were we talking about, again?

Oh, yeah!

...

...

Niiiiiice!

...

...

The Stan

An Introduction To Flatology

I think farts are hilarious.

Now before you start accusing me of being an unsophisticated, uncouth, crass, blue-collar yokel consider this: I didn't invent the things. God did.

And God had to have had a sense of humor when he invented them. Imagine creating a race of beings who walk around blowing hot, smelly gas out their ass, and often very LOUDLY.

Everyone has gas at one time or another (even the President). Its just a matter of how bad, how often, and whether it happens in public. I have a friend who is so flatulently repressed he says he has never farted...ever. And if he has to, he holds it in.

Now I don't know about you, but if I've got a lot of air pressure pushing against my sphincter, I'm going to let it out! It's where it's supposed to go...it's the natural order of things. Holding it in just postpones the inevitable, and makes it a whole lot worse. Like procrastinating on paying your bills...there WILL be a reckoning day!

Now, the degree of humor in any given fart situation is a function of how loud it is, how raunchy it is, how many people are in the "kill zone," and how embarrassed the flatulator is.

So what is flatology? It's the scientific study of flatulence. According to flatologists, flatulations are classified according to their three primary characteristics, known as the "Three 'S's": sound, smell, and spread.

1. Sound: The sound is made up of a combination of various measurable elements: volume (decibel level), length, timbre, pitch, repetition, etc., including their change over time. This is expressed in a series of graphs, mapping these sound characteristics over time.

2. Smell: Anywhere from "diffuse" to "deadly." It also takes into account the "delay factor," which is calculated as a function of the air density differential, the temperature differential, and wind speed/direction.

3. Spread: The precise dimensions of the "kill zone" and its change over time. This is represented by a series of graphs showing concentric rings of decreasing intensity from the source and the precise degree of exposure within each radius. Since the "delay factor" is directly related to spread, spread is also dependent on the air density differential, the temperature differential, and wind speed/direction.

Therefore, it stands to reason that the worse fart possible would max out in all three categories...while the most innocuous would barely register in any category.

However, there is a special subcategory, popularly known as the "silent but deadly" which barely registers on sound meters, but maxes out the other two. It can be argued that this is, in fact, the worst possible flatulation because bystanders have no early warning sign, and are, therefore, caught in the "kill zone" unawares until it's too late.

It is this special subcategory that is the subject of my next post...

The Stan