The shirt off their back

There are things in this world I admit I'll never understand. How deep the ocean is. The vastness of the universe. My income tax forms. And why every store can't offer the same extraordinary level of customer service as Nordstrom.

There's such a thing as going the extra step, and then there's going above and beyond above and beyond. Which is exactly what Nordstom's did for me.

If you know me at all, you know I practically live in black shirts. Specifically lightweight, black corduroy shirts from Nordstrom. These magnificent shirts are incredibly comfortable and amazingly versatile. They're equally at home whether the occasion is formal or casual. They save me a lot of decision making when it comes to what I'm going to wear - kind of like Jeff Goldblum's closet filled with all the same outfits in The Fly. (Point of fact: I'm much more careful going through the transponder).

But I digress.

When I first saw these shirts, it was love. So I bought four of them, thinking that would be plenty to last me. But the years take their toll, and the shirts became threadbare, torn, and faded. I admit I took them for granted. I always thought I'd just be able to hop over to Nordstrom and get some more.

Come to find out that wasn't the case.

When I couldn't find them in the store, I went online. They weren't there either. So I sent an email to a Nordstrom customer service person who replied they no longer carried the shirts and weren't planning on getting them in. I asked if they could special order them, and the answer was a polite no.

Here's the thing - "no" is not an answer I'm fond of taking. I decided to take my case higher up the Nordstrom food chain.

I got the name of a senior management person - let's call him Dave - who I thought might be a good person to talk to. After explaining my situation in an email to him, he said he'd see what he could do and get back to me.

Not only did he get back to me, he got back with the answer I was hoping for.

He said even though they didn't stock the shirts, there was a person in their product development department - let's call her Annie - who could make it happen. Annie figured out that they had enough of the material to make four sample shirts. They'd be made at the sample shop instead of on the line, dyed black, hand-stitched, and they'd be just like the original shirts.

Except custom ordered, hand-made and mine.

So the shirts will arrive this week. I'm forever grateful to Dave for his responsiveness, and Annie for her extraordinary efforts to insure I got the merchandise I was looking for. And to both of them for demonstrating that genuine customer service does still exist.

When you see me wearing one, you may not know it's one of the shirts that Nordstrom hand-made for me.

Don't worry. I'll tell you.

The Super Bowl

Own a home, and you'll find yourself shopping for things you never shopped for before.

Like a new toilet.

Now, I've never been a toilet connoisseur. More of a journeyman really, just using whichever one happened to be available at the moment. You know, "the moment."

But my house has three bathrooms and four people, so the law of averages had to catch up eventually. Since the toilet in our master bathroom has decided to take a leak of it's own all over the floor every time it's flushed, it was time to aquaint myself with the plumbing section at Lowe's.

After some serious research, including what I'll call "faux test drives", this is the one that bowled me over. Yeah, I said it.

It's the Kohler Memoirs Comfort Height Toilet with Stately Design.

And why shouldn't a toilet be stately?

Now that I'm forced to actually give thought to it, turns out there are some things I don't like about the toilet I have, and some features I want in a new one.

For starters, I want one that feels like a La-Z-Boy recliner. Something comfortable. Something I can spend a lot of time on. After all, it's not just a toilet. It's also a reading chair.

One of the many reviews I've read said, "Looks good and flushes well." If only we could all say that about ourselves.

I also like the comfort height. I'm not potty training anymore, I've got it down pretty good. So I don't want to feel like I'm sitting on a trainer. And sometimes, those few seconds you save not having to situate yourself so far down make the difference between, well, they make the difference.

The only thing I don't like about this big, tall, comfortable crapper is the price. It's anywhere between $750. and $1000. depending where I buy it. Not including what it'll cost me to have it installed.

I feel a bit embarrassed about being so excited about this purchase. However that embarrassment is trumped by the cases of toilet envy I know I'll be creating once everyone who visits our house spends a little quality time with the new Kohler.

Toilet envy. Yeah, I said it.

The Iceman goeth

Riddle me this: how does an actor as seriously great as Val Kilmer go from playing Iceman in a huge hit like Top Gun with Tom Cruise to a nothing film like Hardwired with Cuba Gooding Jr.?

And don't even get me started on Cuba Gooding Jr.'s career.

I was in Blockbuster today and saw this straight-to-DVD for Hardwired. It just made me sad.

I've always liked Kilmer no matter what kind of films he did. To me he's like a next generation Gene Hackman - even if the movie's awful, his performance is the one to watch time and time again.

Comedies like Real Genius and Top Secret. Noir like Kill Me Again and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. He was even great in big popcorn movies like Batman Forever (the only good thing in it) and The Saint (ditto).

Tell me you didn't believe he had tuberculosis as Doc Holiday in Tombstone. Or that he was Jim Morrison in The Doors. Everyone talks about the scenes between DiNiro and Pacino in Heat, but Kilmer was the one who stole the movie with the shootout scene in downtown L.A.

The first time I saw Val Kilmer, actually saw him, was when I was in line at the Regent Theater in Westwood opening night to see Top Secret, the comedy he made with the Zucker Brothers who did Airplane. It was a Friday night, long line, and this stretch limo pulls up and out pops Val Kilmer and Ellen Barkin. Val had his cream colored sport coat sleeves rolled up (very Miami Vice), lowered his sunglasses, smiled at the line and then went into the theater. He wasn't a big star yet, but you could tell from his charisma he was going to be.

Word around town for years has been how difficult he is to work with. Wow, a talented movie star who's tempermental, demanding and opinionated. Gambling in Casablanca? I'm shocked, shocked I tell you.

I recently saw him in a trailer for MacGruber coming out later this month. It's another SNL sketch stretched into a movie. And probably another chance for Kilmer to shine in a film not worthy of his talents.

I hope he finds his Pulp Fiction like Travolta did, and I hope he comes back just as strong.

He deserves it.

Sonny at the toll booth

Some days I'm Michael. But more often than I'd like to admit, I'm Sonny at the toll booth.

Wrapped up in a fit of anger. The heat of the moment. Leaping without looking. Hopping in the car and speeding in a blind fury to bring a fast and furious revenge to the Solozzo family. Even though Tom and Michael would both tell me it's the wrong move.

Next thing you know, the toll taker drops my change and the shots ring out.

Not to say this method is always wrong or isn't occasionally justified. For example, nobody deserved an ass-kicking more than Carlo for the way he treated Connie, Sonny's sister. And really, what was Carlo thinking? That Sonny would just sit down and talk to him about it?

So yeah, I've learned a lot of life lessons from the Godfather. It's not personal, it's business. Leave the gun, take the cannoli. Never take sides against the family.

The one I still have to get down better is where Sonny's temper wound up getting him.

Maybe the answer is to hire my own personal consigliere.

Right after the bodyguards.

Gonna take a Lotto love

Tonight's Mega Millions jackpot is $266 million. Like many of you I've already started planning what I'm going to do with the money. And as I make my list, it's plain to me I'll definitely do more good with it than you will.

Which is probably reason enough why I should win.

Don't shake your head like that. We both know you. You'll be selfish and materialistic.

I however will embrace philanthropy with my newfound fortune.

First I'll build a church youth center (named after my children of course). I'll start a non-profit organization to feed and house the homeless. I will sponsor science contests to expedite technological discoveries. I will create a research grant to encourage breakthroughs in deadly diseases that strike children. Small children.

See? There's so much good to be done.

Of course, I will need a base of operations to do all this good from. A big base, with lots of rooms so I can dedicate individual ones to each of my charitable efforts. I'll need even more rooms for the staff. This big base should come with a really nice pool and tennis courts, which will provide ways to relieve the stress that comes from doing so much good.

I assume every once and awhile I'll need to get away from it all and clear my head so I can come back refreshed and ready to do more good. Perhaps a nice, luxury car - since they keep out the sound better to reduce stress - would be a small, necessary expenditure.

Naturally I'll need to compare the good I'm doing with the good other like minded, financially able people in the world are doing. A private jet to travel to and from different continents will probably be the most efficient way to meet and compare the goodness of our deeds. I hear the Gulfstream V is a very efficient plane. And if it's not the most efficient, I can always purchase a second one, so I will have two efficient jets to choose from.

In the event no one wins the money tonight, it'll only be because God wants it to rollover so I can win more.

You know, to do more good.

UPDATE: The bad news is I didn't win. Which of course means less good will be done in the world. The good news is I have a new best friend who lives in Pico Rivera.

I just don't know his name yet.

Counter culture

America isn't the center of the world it once was when it comes to building things. Cars, tv's, cameras and airplanes are now made all over the world. But there's still one thing we manage to make a lot of.
Hamburgers. And there's one place, in my opinion, that makes them better than anyone else.

I started going to the Apple Pan when I was five years old. Leo, my barber that used to torture me (you never forget your first butche...barber) had his shop on Pico Blvd. just west of Westwood Blvd. As a reward for being good during the haircut - and by good I suppose my mother meant not leaping up out of the chair, grabbing Leo's straight-edge (not a euphemism) and threatening him if he cut another hair on my innocent young head - she would take me to the Apple Pan for a hickory cheeseburger, fries and a Coke.

It was the beginning of a life-long Apple Pan habit.

Of course back then, menu prices were a little different than what you see here. Not sure what year this is, but a hickory with cheese was 65 cents back in the post-haircut days.

To this day, when I sit down at the 27-seat counter to order, just out of habit I peruse the menu as if it's changed. Or like I'll order something different than I've been loving all these years.

Yeah, I see the tuna sandwich. But that's just crazy talk.

I know there are other great hamburgers. Cassell's on 6th St. was a legendary burger place where you built it the way you liked with homemade mayonnaise and horseradish. Since the restaurant got sold, relocated and downsized years ago, it's a shadow of it's former ground beef glory.

Hodad's in Ocean Beach is an amazing experience. The ginormous burgers, thicker than cement milk shakes, dingy, dive feel, tacky license plates hanging all over the walls combined with the always entertaining crowd - a combination of surfers, tourists, stoners and vagrants - add up to an exceptional burger experience. Hodad's is always a must have when I'm heading to San Diego for Comic Con...er...business.

Father's Office (both of them), Dave's World Famous in Long Beach, The Original Tommy's, The Counter, Fisher's, In-N-Out, and even the Bleunami at Islands. All great in their own right.

But if someone held an order of crisp, golden fries to my head and said I had to choose one burger to go with them, it would be this hickory-filled beauty right here.

I'm sure the fact the Apple Pan is part of my childhood is one reason I love it. For readers who are LOST fans you'll appreciate it when I say it's my constant. It's still here. I'm still here.

There's something extremely comforting that the same people who are serving the burgers now are the ones who served them then. That guy on the left with glasses is who I remember best.

It's not a chain. It didn't sell out to the mall next door or across the street, both of which threw the vault at the owner to get that corner. They literally stood their ground (beef) against the rampant, arbitrary development you see all over the city.

If you ever want to grab a burger with me, just tell me where you want to meet (meat).

But if it's not the Apple Pan, be prepared for a counter offer.

This is not the post you're looking for

You've come to the right place. You just got here at the wrong time.

If you recently clicked on a link expecting to be taken to a post called "Survey Says!" I have some bad news for you. I was advised to take that post down. And since that person knows a lot more about the potential consequences of leaving it up, and I'm paying him for his advice, I took it (Hint: Not a doctor. Not a shrink. Getting clearer?).

It leaves me in an interesting predicament though. Here I have this situation going on that I'd love to just be a bloggin' fool about (if you've been following RNB for a while, or caught "Survey Says!" before I took it down you probably know what I'm talking about).

For once though, I'm going to try to focus on the positive aspects of being reined in.

Normally I'd bitch and moan that I can't write about something I want to (only child? Why yes, why do you ask?). But this time, I'm actually helping my cause by listening to someone who knows better. It's not the first time I've done that. But if you know me at all, you know I don't do it nearly often enough. I have a long trail of knee-jerk emails that never should've been sent to prove it. Where the hell is that unsend button anyway?

So I'll keep it short. Because if I write about all the good advice I've gotten over the years I didn't listen to it'll only depress me.

Like when a good friend told me I should take the auto accident settlement money and buy a house because I'd never have a lump sum for a down like that again.

Okay, okay, I said I wasn't going to write about it.

Or the nine unit apartment building in Brentwood I could've bought for $279,000 except I thought that was so much money at the time.

Alright I'm done.

The giant 2 bedroom in Tribeca my friend wanted me to share a 20-year lease on for $300 a month. Hey, twenty years was a long time.

Maybe this post was a bad idea. A friend told me not to write it because I'd start down that would've, should've, could've path.

But hey, guess what I didn't do?