Pooper's first commercial, Part 3 OR another hit off the crack pipe for Cortney

We were going to have lunch with Sam and his mom. They were very nice and Pooper and Sam got along great.

Sam and his mom moved to LA from the midwest, just 6 months ago. The dad was still back home, waiting for their house to sell. Both parents are professional, grad-school educated, and gave up extended family and careers to pursue Hollywood.

Now, you would expect, or at least *I* would expect, that such a mom would be all "stage-momish" but she wasnt at all. The two of them seemed to have fun, and it was just that, fun with no pressure.

Anyways, we had agreed to first go to Dodger Stadium, and then find a place to eat nearby, because to do it any other way, would risk getting tied up in traffic and being late for the shoot.

We needed to get gas (which is about $4.15 a gallon these days, for those who are curious), and we stopped at a station.

As I pulled up to the gas pump, an older, black gentleman, wearing a dress shirt and slacks, but very grungy dress shirt and slacks, approached me as I got out of my car...

Man: Can I pump your gas

Me: (had a quick 'lightbulb' moment, remembering that we are in a big city now, and it's not uncommon for people to pan handle) No thanks (I said with a smile, while I made an effort to go about my business without stopping what I was doing.)

As I pumped, the man stood a few feet away, kindly offering to pump the gas of everyone that pulled up. There were no takers.

When I got back in the car, Pooper told me that the guy seemed suspicious. I told Pooper that he was there trying to get some money, by pumping people's gas. Not unlike the guys I have seen that rush up to cars at red lights, with spray bottles and window washer squeegees (sp?) and quickly wash your car wind sheild, and then ask you for money since they cleaned your window.

We drove onward towards the stadium, and Pooper made other comments, about how he noticed all the "drawings" and "scribblings" and "writings" on the walls and benches and signs.

Yeah, kind of what you would expect from a 2 year old. Apparently there is a whole group of people that didnt get spanked when they colored on their mommies walls, but that's just my opinion.

As we approached the entrance to Dodger Stadium, our friends were waiting near the entrance, in their car. The mommy said that, according to her fancy GPS system, the LA Farmers Market was only 6.7 miles away, and we decided to go there for a bite to eat. I think it was now 12:45, and we were due to return at 3:00, ample time to get some food.

The LA Farmer's Market, is a whole outdoor shopping area, with little stores, food joints, and probably more, but I dont know the market that well. Although, it's next to the CBS studios, of which I am quite familiar (thank you Rock Star INXS and The Price Is Right, posts for another day.)

Unfortunately, thanks to the irrational transportation system known as LA TRAFFIC, it took 50 minutes to get to our destination, and Im not lying, 50 minutes to go less than 7 miles. So, we arrived at approximately 1:35.

We parked, and meandered through the crowds, smelling the aromas of a variety of ethnic foods. My Honey and Beauty would have had a field day, as they are much more daring when it comes to trying different kinds of foods. Pooper and I, we keep it simple, and usually keep it Mexican, we both LOVE salsa.

Our friends went to the Chinese (or some type of Asian cuisine) and we went to get tacos. Although, once Pooper saw the tacos displayed in the window, he opted for a hot dog (which they did not have on display.)

We all got our food and met back at a table, thankfully in the shade, on this hot day.

Pooper took one look at his hotdog, and before he could start screaming, I said:

Me; I know this hot dog might not look normal to you, but I promise it tastes like a regular hot dog.

Pooper: (staring at it, with fierce injustice seething from his eyes) It's GREEN!

The other mommy, the kindler-gentler "this is all just a fun adventure" mommy, saved the day by explaining that the color is just from how they cook it, and it's really how the cowboys eat their hotdogs, and made the whole thing seem safe and kind of fun.

Pooper bought it, either that, or he knew the WRATH OF MOMMY would be upon him if he had a meltdown in the middle of the Farmers Market, (my guess is the first one, because as you read on, you will see, he does not fear my wrath.)

We ate, and then decided to grab some ice cream to go.

Sam got a cone. I encouraged Pooper to get a cup, or a cone with a cup, but he only wanted a cone. I tried to be all loving and positive, reminding him that in 150 degree heat, cones melt quickly, and the Stand Up 2 Cancer folks probably didnt want him showing up with ice cream dripped all over his shirt, but he only wanted a cone.

I knew not to push him, as he was tired, and we nearly averted a meltdown over the green hotdog. I was trying to pick my battles, so I cautioned him as I gave him a giant wad of napkins, and we headed back to the car. It was 2:10, and we didnt want to press our luck on being late, so we scooted back to Dodger Stadium. I was concerned that we had never got a nap in, but hopeful that he would get a second gust of wind upon arriving at Dodger Stadium.

We were about half way there, bumper to bumpering our way through the maze of people and cars, when Pooper got all in a fit in the back.

Me: What's wrong dear (in my best Carol Brady voice)

Pooper: MY ICE CREAM DRIPPED ALL OVER MY SHIRT

Me; (*&)^%$# I told you that would happen! (in my alien that pops out of Sigourney Weaver's stomach voice)


**More to come, stay tune ***